[bigandlong]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[jae-felidae]

Oh hey! Haven’t seen this in forever! Didn’t reblog it when it came across me before, not gonna skip it this time, I need some good vibes.

[cupid-styles-deactivated2024071]

only angel (tattoo artist/plug harry)

in which harry owns a tattoo shop, sells weed on the side, and has a big crush on y/n, a shy virgin who's very much enamored by him.

here is part one of tattoo/plug harry!!! I hope you like it :) please lmk if you'd like more from them <3

word count: 10.2k (!!!!)

content warnings: y/n's parents being unkind people, comments and discussions about weight/disordered eating, fainting (caused by a piercing), smut! (y/n's first time being fingered, dirty talk, harry being a soft dom)

masterlist | talk to me

part two

. . .

Y/N doesn't know why she's here.

If the glares from the employees of the tattoo and piercing shop are anything to go off of, they don't know why she's here either. And it all makes this whole thing even more embarrassing.

In reality, she does have a reason to be here. Mai, one of the few friends she's made in her grad school program, asked if she would drive her down to The Village for a tattoo appointment she had.

Y/N's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull when she asked, especially when she pressed for more details about this tattoo she was getting (it was a strawberry just above her hip, which Y/N didn't quite understand considering she thought tattoos were supposed to be meaningful). But, ever the pushover, Mai ended up convincing her, going as far as getting her to come inside — the one boundary she had — and wait while she got it done.

(Thankfully, her parents had some benefit charity thing going on today, so they weren't concerned with Y/N's whereabouts or where she was taking the car they bought her on a Saturday afternoon.)

The shop, called St. Mark's Place Social Club (aptly named, she supposes, considering it's located on St. Mark's Place), is nice. Unlike what she imagined tattoo parlors would look like in her brain, the spot Mai chose to get tattooed at seems sanitary and actually quite trendy.

It's not wildly crowded with customers hustling and bustling around, but there's a few artists at work at their own small stations. The walls are painted a cozy forest green, all donning frames upon frames of, what Y/N assumes are, sheets of tattoo designs. The receptionist who checked Mai in even offered them some water, which Y/N thinks was very nice.

"Are you nervous at all?" Y/N asks quietly as they sit in the rattan chairs in the waiting area. Mai's filling out some questionnaire on an iPad, but she shakes her head at her question, crossing her legs. 

"No, not really," she murmurs nonchalantly, "I have a few tattoos already and I've been here before. The artist that's doing it is really cool and he's so hot."

Y/N's mouth forms around an oh as Mai quickly taps her signature into the tablet. She stands from the rickety chair and walks back over to return it to the front, her heeled boots clacking against the wood floor as she does. 

Y/N has her gaze set low in her lap, eyes passing over her fresh manicure (her mother has a standing weekly appointment for her). She doesn't even notice that someone's standing over her — more so, towering over her — until the figure clears his throat, her head snapping up to address them. Assuming she's done something wrong (what it is, she isn't sure), she goes to apologize immediately, but the long haired man in front of her cuts her off.

"You have an appointment?" 

Instantly, she flounders. Her mouth drops open as she stumbles over an answer: "I— um, no, I'm not— no, no appointment."

"So you're a walk-in, then?"

"N-no," she shakes her head quickly, his all-black outfit forming a blur in front of her eyes, "No, I'm not getting a tattoo."

The man laughs. He actually laughs at her, and Y/N doesn't know whether she should be embarrassed or pleased that she's made this very attractive man smile.

"You're sitting in a tattoo shop. You know that, right?" the stranger crosses his heavily tattooed arms over his chest, and Y/N's eyes fly to the swirls of black ink covering his skin. They're everywhere; all different fonts and images and numbers and... she wonders if he even knows what they all mean or how many he has. 

"Yes," she finally manages out, folding her hands neatly in her lap. It's the default body language she goes to when she's nervous — when she was a teenager, her parents paid for her to go to social etiquette classes, and the instructor told her that this was a good way to show that she was in control of her actions, even if underneath her pastel pink turtleneck, her chest was covered in hives. "No, I'm not getting a tattoo. I'm here with someone getting one."

Thankfully (though Y/N would've preferred it happening about two minutes earlier), Mai walks back over to them, a grin taking over her features when she spots the man talking to her.

"Harry!" she greets excitedly, and Y/N watches as his eyes flicker over to her, flashing a tight smile in her direction.

"Ah. This is who you're here with." he — Harry, apparently — says to Y/N. She doesn't know what she's supposed to say to that (if she's supposed to say anything), but any response is once again cut off. "Hey. You ready?"

She only now notices the gum wedged between his teeth, his jaw moving in a hypnotizing way. His tone appears to be far more clipped with Mai, but Y/N is fast to chalk it up to some fluke. Maybe the other employees mentioned something to Harry and they thought she was in the wrong place or something. That would make sense, she thinks.

"Yeah, all good. I'll see you in a bit, Y/N," Mai nods, swinging her bag over her shoulder, focusing her attention to Harry, "So listen, I'm going to a show in midtown tonight, I was thinking maybe after we finish up here we can—"

"Are you coming back with us?" Harry's eyes fall back onto Y/N, and it's only then that she realizes he's talking to her again.

"Uh... am I allowed to?"

He smirks. Y/N's chest feels like it may concave in simply from the sight.

"I own this place, so yeah, you're allowed to."

Mai's tapping her foot impatiently now, her hip popped out slightly with her arms crossed over her chest. "My appointment started a few minutes ago, Harry—"

"Okay," he says curtly, turning on his heel to face her, "Go in the back and get ready then. You know where my station is."

Both Mai's and Y/N's jaws drop at that, his snappy tone clearly not one to fight back on. Surprisingly, Mai does just that, turning around and walking back to where Harry has his things set up. 

"You coming, then? Y/N, right?" 

The teasing smirk is still painted over his features, as if he finds humor in outwardly rejecting Mai's advances. Y/N doesn't know why her heart beats a little bit faster at that, warmth spreading from her chest to the rest of her body as he continues gazing down at her.

"Y-yeah," she answers, grabbing her purse and standing up. "If it's not too big of a deal."

"Course not. C'mon, you can follow me."

. . .

Mai's tattoo comes out beautiful.

However, Y/N can hardly focus on the artistry and apparent talent because she's far too busy staring at Harry, who also looks beautiful while he works.

It's distracting, embarrassingly so, that she barely even registers when he's finished wrapping her new tattoo in some sort of clear wrap, sending her back up to pay. Quickly, Y/N scrambles to grab her things, realizing that she's once again left alone with Harry.

"What, running away so soon?" He asks as he cleans up his work station, spinning around to face her in his chair. He has that smirk on his face again — the one that simultaneously intimidates her and makes her entire body burst into flames — and anxiety begins to eat away at her, nervous of saying the wrong thing.

"I just— you're done. So I was gonna go."

"How do you know Mai?" 

It bothers her somewhat that he ignores her, but being the subject of his intense glint, she shifts her stance from foot to foot, shrugging her shoulders.

"We're in the same grad program. We've had a few classes together." she answers obediently, clutching the strap of her purse closer to her shoulder. 

"Mm," he hums, tossing some paper towels in the trash, "You sure you didn't want any tattoos today?"

Y/N's face erupts into a hot flush for the thousandth time today and she instantly begins to shake her head. "No. No, thank you, I mean. My parents would kill me."

"Your parents?" Harry asks, a slightly stupefied expression on his face. "You're in grad school. Surely you don't make decisions on your appearance based off of them."

He punctuates his sentence by giving her a once-over and she feels nervous under his gaze. She's never particularly felt good about her appearance. She's always just felt... neutral. She grew up with a mother who was constantly dieting, imparting weight loss tips on her every chance she got. When Y/N hit puberty, her father made comments about how grateful he was to finally see her drop the "baby weight". Even now, her mother critiqued her, making comments about how important it was to maintain a good figure; that she'd never find someone to spend her life with if she didn't take care of her looks.

So, all in all, it was safe to say that tattoos were extremely off the table for Y/N. 

"It's complicated," she finally replies vaguely. She knows that most people in their mid-20s aren't as deep under the thumb of their parents as she is, but she wasn't lying when she said this — the circumstances weren't as black and white as she wished they were.

However, there was something she'd always been curious about, and she had seen the piercing rates out in the front of the shop.

"But, um— do you guys do piercings?" she follows up before Harry has a chance to question her parents any further. 

"We do," he replies slowly, "Well, yeah, I do. Why, are you thinking about getting something pierced?"

She swears his eyes quickly glance to her chest, but just as quickly as she notices it, they're focused back on her face. She clears her throat, willing herself to have an ounce of self-confidence. 

"I was wondering if I could get my ears pierced."

Harry quirks an eyebrow and stands from his chair. Her heart rate speeds up tenfold when he walks over to her, his hand reaching outward. 

"May I?" he asks, pausing before he makes any movements. She nods, hoping he misses the way her throat bobs in nervousness. Gently, he pushes some of her hair behind her ear, taking a look at the lobe. He does it to the other one and she wonders if he can sense that she's holding her breath. 

"Hm, you really don't have them pierced," he mumbles lowly, eyes flitting back to her face. "Yeah, we could do that if you'd like. You sure daddy won't get too pissed?"

He says it with a simper though she's not entirely sure why; she thinks if he understood the dynamic between her and her parents, he'd be more concerned than teasing. Nevertheless, she shakes her head. 

"Like you said," she says softly, blinking as they stare back at one another, "I shouldn't make decisions on my appearance based on what they want."

His smirk breaks into a grin, and for the first time, Y/N feels like she's doing something right.

. . .

Y/N didn't think she would be this nervous to get her first piercing, but between the gorgeous man invading her space with a needle and the fact that Mai definitely won't want to be her friend anymore, she's feeling a little tense.

Before getting situated in the chair, Y/N said that she needed to tell Mai she'd be a bit longer, but Harry waved her off and told her he'd take care of it. Apparently, that just meant peeking his head out from his work station and yelling out to Mai that Y/N was busy and wouldn't be driving her home. (Y/N thinks she heard Mai practically stomp out of the shop.)

So now, she's spending her Saturday the last way she thought she would: With her eyes squeezed shot, anxiety making her heart thump far too fast in her chest, with a long-haired tattoo artist hunched over her body. He's so close that she can smell the woody fragrance of his cologne, and she has to resist breathing it in as she inhales deeply in an effort to calm her heart rate.

"Alright, you ready?" Harry asks lowly, his tone a groveled murmur that sends tingles down her spine. She nods, feeling particularly speechless from his closeness and her nerves. "'kay, I'm gonna count to three. Take a deep breath."

Y/N imagines he looks especially gorgeous right now, but she's too scared to open her eyes and see the needle he's about to puncture her skin with. Instead, she simply nods her head again, mentally preparing herself for the countdown. 

"Breathe, dove," he says calmly. Her stomach jumps at the pet name but does as he says. "Good. Okay... 1, 2, 3."

She jumps from the bite of pain that stings her earlobe, instantly wedging her bottom lip between her teeth as he shushes her. 

"It's alright, that was it," he murmurs, though she can still feel him at her side, carefully wiggling the earring into the newly formed hole. "Y/N? You okay?"

She blinks her teary eyes open and opens her mouth, willing her throat to push out a yes. Instead, Harry's face goes blurry as the images in front of her get hazy. In a panic, she tries to stand, the ringing in her ears sending loud alarms to her brain. She thinks she hears Harry tell her to sit down, his strong arms taking a hold of her own — but that's when everything goes dark. 

. . .

Harry's known this girl for all of two hours, and he's never felt panic ravish his body the way it did when she passed out a few minutes ago. 

Thankfully, she comes to less than two minutes later (he counted), but he remains by her side the entire time, gently stroking her hair back. As a professional tattoo artist and piercer, he's of course had people faint under the needle, but it's never happened from just a standard ear piercing. 

He supposes he maybe should've prepared himself for this. The sweet girl who accompanied Mai didn't look like she belonged at St. Mark's Social Club, but the moment his eyes zeroed in on her, he felt pulled to her. From the pastel pink top that stretched over her chest to the white ribbon tied in her hair, she was the opposite of any girl he's ever been attracted to — and yet, all he wanted was to tuck her under his arm, pull her into his chest, and spend the rest of his life protecting her.

Harry tells himself he's being stupid; some lovesick nerd that just needs to get his cock touched, but as he watches her slowly nurse a cup of water, warmth returning to her complexion, every doubt is thrown out the window. 

"I'm so sorry," Y/N pouts, lifting a hand to run through her hair, "I'm... I feel so stupid, I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Why are you apologizing?" he asks through furrowed brows. "It's not your fault. People pass out all the time here, you have nothing to be sorry about."

"Y-yeah, but this is annoying... you probably have another appointment coming up and—"

"I don't."

"Yeah, but—"

"Y/N?"

"What?"

"Stop it."

She huffs, but the apologies stop after that. With his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the wall, he watches to make sure she finishes her water. He can tell she's still feeling embarrassed and it bothers him that she thinks of herself as something to feel sorry about.

"Y'know, kinda looked like some kind of badass Sleeping Beauty while you were passed out," Harry says with a smirk, making her eyes widen, "Pretty cute, if you ask me."

Y/N's face warms and he chuckles, deciding that making this girl blush is his new favorite past time. 

"You're being silly." she mumbles, finishing off the water with a final swig. He shakes his head and takes the empty cup from her hand, tossing it in the garbage can behind her. 

"Would never lie to you, dove. We're going on what, three hours of knowing each other? I wouldn't even dream of it."

"Harry," she whines and it makes him immediately grin, especially as she pushes her bottom lip out in a slight pout, "Shush, stop it."

"Think I should just call you princess from now on, hm? Such a pretty face coming in here, think I got lucky having you pass out on me."

He laughs loudly when her lips part, her jaw slack from the compliment. She doesn't have a comeback for that one, but he assumed as much. He turns to face the cabinets behind him and grabs a paper towel and a pen, quickly scrawling out his number on it before handing it to her.

"This is my number. I'm not gonna do your second piercing today 'cos that sounds like a recipe for disaster, but I want you to text me when you wanna come in and get it done," he explains, "I only work here on the weekend, but I'll come by any day you're free, princess."

She shuffles her feet before nodding her head, stuffing the paper towel in her bag. "O-okay. That sounds good."

"Good," Harry breathes, reaching out to for her hand to help her up, "Do you need a ride home?"

"No!" her eyes dart away from his face, blinking quickly as she focuses on the dark green walls. "Um, no, thank you. You've done enough for me today. I appreciate it, Harry."

"Sure," he says slowly, narrowing his eyes at her, "Okay, well... get home safe for me, alright?"

"I will." she nods and punctuates her sentence with a harsh swallow. "Can I... is it okay if I text you when I get home?" 

A gentle smile wiggles its way onto Harry's face, warmth filling his body once again. 

"You took the words right out of my mouth, princess."

. . .

To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

hi, im home!! im so sorry again for what happened but thank you sm for making sure i was okay. hope it wasn't too inconvenient! 

Y/N's never texted a boy she has a crush on (well, except for Jason Saunders in the 8th grade, but her dad found out within the hour and made her delete his number as he watched). She thinks she must still be lightheaded from fainting because there's no way she can seriously have a crush on someone she barely knows, but nonetheless, she pushes herself to message him to at least thank him for everything he did for her. 

She sighs as she throws her phone in her purse and climbs out of her Range Rover. Locking the doors, she crosses her fingers as she walks up the stairs and to the elevator of the luxury garage, pressing the penthouse button on the panel. She hopes her parents are still out — if they're home, she'll be on the receiving end of their badgering for the rest of the evening, and she still wants to work on a paper she has due later next week.

When the sleek elevator doors open, she's met with silence — the only telltale sign that she's alone, with the exception of her parents' private chef and maid. Relief floods her body as she steps out and into the apartment, toeing her shoes off in the entryway and taking quiet steps to her bedroom. 

She's exhausted from the day, flopping down on her bed with a sigh. Mindlessly, she feels for her phone in her bag, pulling it out to scroll through Instagram before she commits to doing work for the rest of the night. Instead, she's met with not one, but two texts from Harry.

Remember what I said about apologizing, princess?

Glad you made it home safely. Don't forget to text me about your second piercing — just name the day and I'm there. xx

She wants to let out a squeal, even if there's a large part of her brain that's constantly reminding her to limit her excitement. He's probably just being polite, she says to herself. 

Still, it doesn't stop her from replying a mere moment later, promising to restrain her apologies and message him when she's ready to get her other ear pierced. 

. . .

"Where were you yesterday?" 

Y/N blinks at her father as she sets down the spatula, shifting her attention from the buckwheat pancakes she's currently cooking. 

"Studying on campus," she replies easily, even if she had to coach herself all night to lie. She's never one to fib, let alone to her parents — she's always felt some type of fear when it comes to her father, but she knows he never would have approved if she gave him some vague answer about taking a friend to an appointment. 

He lets out a noncommittal humph. "You know there's no reason for you to be getting a masters degree when you'll just work at the company when you graduate."

Her stomach tightens. It's a frequent area of contention between she and her parents — their dream for her has always been to work at their jewelry company as soon as she graduated college, but she somehow managed to convince them to entertain her wish to go to graduate school for an English degree. They told her she could do it as long as she starts at their office as soon as graduation comes around.

She hasn't quite yet figured out how she's getting out of that one. If she even can.

"I know, father," Y/N forces out, redirecting her attention to flipping the pancakes on the pan. "It's just important that I get good grades."

"I can't imagine it's very difficult. You speak the language."

She bites her tongue. Her parents have never understood her love for books, always scolding her for having her head in the clouds from a young age. If she's being honest, books have served as a way for her to escape, always wishing she could be the girl getting whisked away by her romantic interest. 

Things always worked out in her books. Potentially having a happy ending like the ones she reads about is the only thing that keeps her going sometimes. 

Her mother, looking pristine as always even at 9 in the morning, enters the kitchen just as Y/N's sitting down to her eat. Turning stiffly, her eyes narrow at her daughter. 

"Those better not be full fat, Y/N." she says, jabbing her pointer finger at her plate. 

"They're not." Y/N says softly.

In response, she simply hums. "I don't understand why you don't just have Freya make you food. She's there for a reason."

Y/N quickly stuffs a bite of pancake into her mouth, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly chews. She's never felt comfortable requesting their chef make her anything to eat when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. 

"Don't shrug. It's not ladylike," she scolds, Y/N's posture immediately straightening, "We have a lunch meeting with the Franklin family today. If you're available, you should come. You need to start learning the business."

"I have to work on a paper," the lie rolls off her tongue, knowing full well that she nearly finished it last night, "Finals are coming up. School is getting very busy."

"You know, Y/N, you're lucky we grant you all this freedom." her mother spits, the high heels of her Louboutin shoes clacking against the marbled flooring. "One day, you're not going to have this much of a choice in how you spend your time."

Despite only eating half a pancake, Y/N no longer feels hungry. Instead, she just nods her head and rolls her lips into her mouth. 

"You're right. Thank you for everything you do for me." 

She clears her dishes and goes back to her bedroom before her parents have a chance to see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

. . .

Y/N spends the better part of Sunday crying in her bedroom. 

She's so exhausted of this cycle. Her parents work so hard to tear her down all the time, never once taking into account what her dreams and aspirations are. She feels like she can't do anything right, as if nothing she'll do will ever please them. 

In her fit of anger and sadness, she decides she needs to leave Harry behind. He's just a pipe dream, a tiny little sliver of what her life could be if she had less restrictive parents. That night, when she's laying awake in bed, she decides that in the morning, she'll take the fresh piercing out and throw the earring away, delete his number, apologize to Mai, and pretend like this weekend never even happened.

That is the plan, anyway.

Until she wakes up to her alarm at 8 am and she has an unopened text from him, and her heart beats in a way that she's never truly felt before. She doesn't think she's ever smiled this wide after just waking up, the mere appearance of his name on her screen sending waves of hope and happiness throughout her body. 

From: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

How's the piercing holding up? 

After getting home on Saturday, he texted her a series of care instructions for the piercing, instructing her to clean it twice a day, twist the earring, and let him know if anything felt off. She wasn't sure what it was, but she felt particularly giddy when he told her what to do. 

To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

good!! no pain or anything and ive been doing what you told me to :)

She has a class at 10 this morning and she knows she should follow her typical routine of a shower, breakfast, and getting ready, but instead, she just lays back in the fluffy tufts of her bedding, smiling to herself as she waits for Harry to text back. A minute or so later, her phone vibrates.

Good girl.

Think you'll come in for your second anytime soon?

Her stomach twists in a delicious way but she's not sure why. There's nothing inherently sexual about what he's messaged her, but it has her craving more, a steady heartbeat forming somewhere deep in her core. 

Her eyes read over his question and she bites her lip. She knows that less than 10 hours ago, she was planning to forget Harry, but the feeling he gives her is addictive. She doesn't want to stay away — so she won't.

yeah, if you don't mind doing it :)) maybe today? 

In reality, she doesn't want to go under the needle again so soon, but she's craving to see him. He did say he'd come in any day for her.

Harry: I'd love to. What time are you free?

Y/N: i have classes from 10 to 1 today.. would 1:30 work? i can come by on my way home from campus

Harry: How about I meet you at your last class and we walk to the shop together?

Y/N swears her heart is going to beat right out of her chest. Her parents have never allowed her to hang out with a guy outside of anyone they approved of — over the years, they've attempted setting her up with other men of their same financial and social stature, but Y/N was never interested. As a result, they all grew bored of her by the second date, and her parents would yell at her for not being appealing enough. 

She doesn't know if Harry will be bothered by the same thing, but she wants — no, she needs — to find out.

Y/N: okay:) 

Harry: Great. Can't wait to see you. x

. . .

Harry knows he's pushing it.

This girl may as well have wealthy virgin tattooed across her forehead, but he just can't get himself to stay away. It doesn't seem like she wants him to either, which just makes it harder. And as he's waiting for her outside of her lecture hall on a campus he's never even step foot on, he realizes that they're from very, very different universes. 

That doesn't really bother him. He can see the obvious differences — he wears all black, has over 70 tattoos (most of which were impulsive or practice while he was apprenticing), and gives people tattoos and piercings for a living. Y/N is smart and soft; an English major in graduate school, lives with her parents, and drives a car that costs more than his yearly rent. 

He's not blind. Although, if he was blind to pretty, innocent girls, he probably could stop walking around with a permanent boner from thinking about how gorgeous she'd look in his bed.

The only thing that can tear him from his thoughts is the sight of her. He watches as she walks through the doors of the building, a slight pep in her step when she notices him, waving her hand with a smile. He licks his lips absently, willing the arousal pooling deep in his stomach to go away. 

"Hi," she greets as she approaches him, "How're you?"

"I'm good." he answers, trying his best not to let his eyes wander over her outfit, "How was class?"

"'s okay. Kind of boring. Almost fell asleep once or twice."

"Yeah?" Harry chuckles as they begin to walk towards the nearest campus exit. "Gotta stay awake in those smarty pants classes of yours, princess."

He already knows she's blushing before he turns his head to see the familiar flush flower over her skin. He points to the bag over her shoulder, pausing his steps. "Lemme carry that for you."

"Oh— no, you don't have to, I don't want to be annoying—"

"Why would that be annoying?" he asks with a quirked brow. She swallows, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"N-no, it wouldn't," she shakes her head and he nods, keeping his arm stretched out. She pushes the strap down her shoulder and hands the bag to him. "Thank you. That's very kind of you, Harry."

"What d'you have in here, a ton of bricks?" he asks teasingly as he slips the pink tote over his own shoulder. 

"No! I have to bring books to campus every day so we can discuss certain passages and stuff. I guess I've been doing it for so long I didn't notice how heavy it is."

"It's very heavy, Y/N," Harry says, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, "No wonder you're falling asleep in class, you're basically doing an upper body workout on your way there."

"It's not that big a deal," she replies nonchalantly. "It's just— it's what my professors want, so."

He continues grumbling, annoyed that anyone would ask this girl to shuttle all this weight to campus every day. 

"Can you start parking closer to your lecture halls, then? I don't wanna find out you dislocated your shoulder one day."

She shakes her head. "I don't drive to campus."

"Oh, is parking that bad?"

Y/N begins to fidget, wringing her hands out in front of her as they walk. Harry glances at her from his peripherals, soaking in the nervousness written all over her face. 

"No... my parents don't let me drive to campus, that's all."

He hums, attempting to stay unbiased, even if everything he's learned about her so-called parents has only made anger rise in his chest. 

"Do they have a lot of limits on things you can and can't do?" 

"Kind of. I don't know."

"Is... is that something that bothers you?"

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as they stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. He shifts his body to face her. 

"I've never really told anyone about how they are, but... well, they take care of me. They always have. They just have a very clear vision of what they want for me."

"Right," Harry nods, "Just because they care for you or pay for certain things doesn't mean they're good, though. I'm not saying they aren't— I just don't want you to confuse the two."

"I guess."

He decides to leave it at that, mainly because he can she's growing uncomfortable, but also because they're approaching the shop. He pushes the door open and holds it for Y/N, who sheepishly walks in, Harry close behind. 

He doesn't acknowledge anyone as she follows him to his station, but she supposes it's not out of the ordinary for him to do these things since he's the owner. Once they're safely sheltered by the walls of his space, Y/N lets out a breath, sitting down in the chair she was in on Saturday.

After setting her bag down, he washes his hands at the sink. A long-haired guy pops his head in, grinning when he sees Y/N. 

"Hey, H," he greets, "Didn't know you'd be here today."

Harry's tone is gruffer towards the man, even though he seems friendly. "Yeah. What's up?"

"I need a favor. I have an appointment that looks like it's gonna take a little longer than anticipated — last minute changes and all that to the design, but Jude is coming in to pickup at 2. You mind dealing with him?"

He glares at the man before assuming what Y/N is starting to call his signature pose — arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning back against some surface in his station (today, it's the tattoo bed).

"None of the other idiots can do it? Kinda busy."

"It's your off day, figured you could handle him," he shrugs, "Unless you'd like to introduce me—"

"Shut up." Harry replies, clenching his jaw. A spark zips up Y/N's body, though she's not sure why he seems to take offense to the man's words. "Yeah, I'll deal with it. What does he want?"

"Just some edibles and a few grams of bud. Nothing crazy."

Again, Y/N doesn't miss the way Harry shoots a glare at him, who simply raises his hands in mock defense. As if speaking through some sort of secret language, he backs out of the room, his Adidas sneakers sounding crisply against the wooden floors as he walks away.

"Sorry," Harry mumbles.

"Oh. It's okay."

He turns back around to look at Y/N, who somehow looks even smaller in the chair since they arrived.

"You have no idea what that was about, do you?"

She shrugs, though it's clear that Harry's right. She doesn't often like showcasing her naive nature, like it's some sort of party trick for people to laugh at. It makes her feel sad, a reminder of the "normal" years she could have had if not for her parents.

He sighs and lifts a hand to run through his messy hair. "A few of us sell weed on the side here. It's not really a big deal, but we just do it for some extra cash on the side. I would've rather told you on my own time, though."

Y/N's palms find her thighs, plucking at the hem of her skirt as she swallows, digesting the information. Weed? Her parents had always taught her that all drugs were bad. In their minds, weed was just as bad as heroin, but when Y/N read about states legalizing the former, she didn't quite understand how that made sense. 

"I hope that doesn't make you think any differently of me," he continues. "I'm sorry."

She keeps her eyes set in her lap, "Is weed... bad?"

She's expecting him to laugh at her but instead, when she looks up, she's met with a small, adoring smile on his lips. His eyes twinkle just a bit as he shakes his head.

"No, it's not bad, dove. What do you know about it?"

"Nothing, really. I know it's legal in some places but my parents always told me to stay away from any drugs."

"I think a lot of parents do that," Harry replies with a nod, "But it can actually be really helpful for people. Mentally, physically. And others just like it, they enjoy the feeling of being high."

She swallows before biting her lip. "Do you... do you like it?"

"I do." he says. "Is that okay?"

She thinks he could tell her he's a serial killer and she would be okay with it.

"Yeah. 's okay."

His grin widens. "Alright. Lemme get you settled with this other piercing. I'll have to step out to sell to Jude at 2, but after that, do you wanna grab something to eat?"

She nods so fast she feels like a bobblehead. A chuckle — the warmest, most melodic thing Y/N thinks she's ever heard — sounds from his mouth.

"Just don't pass out again on me, Sleeping Beauty."

. . .

Y/N takes her second piercing much better than her first. 

(And by that, she means she only teared up a little bit, and no fainting occurred.) 

She's actually more nervous about the whole weed... thing. She feels torn. There's a half of her that feels intimidated by it; the part that still has a foot stuck in her parents' world, she supposes, where they taught her to never even look at people like Harry. The other half of her is intrigued to see what happens. Fascinated by him, maybe, and the way she feels when she's around him, and she doesn't know whether that's a good thing or not.

"Harry!" 

Someone calls his name from the main room as he's cleaning up and he peeks his head out. 

"Yeah?"

"Jude's here!"

He looks a lot less flighty about it than she assumes he would. Instead, he simply walks back into his station and unlocks a bottom cabinet to reveal a safe inside. 

"Know you're watching, princess," he says, turning his head to flash a toothy smirk in her direction. She looks away, blinking nervously. "Don't reveal any of my grand weed secrets to anyone, hm?"

"I'm not," she huffs, making him chuckle, "I'm just... curious."

Harry hums, pulling contents out from the safe. When he's done, he doesn't even bother concealing any of the weed he's just taken out, instead just rising to his feet. 

"I'll be right back. We can talk about the curiosity in a second."

Y/N's not snappy enough to come up with a response so she simply watches him walk away. She's only seen drug deals go down in movies and TV shows, where they're dramatic and part of the mob and guns are a necessity. She doesn't think this is one of those drug deals, but who is she to assume?

Surprisingly, Harry returns less than two minutes later with a small wad of cash in his hand. He pockets it, smiling at her when he sees she's still sitting there, the same perplexed look on her face. 

"Steal any of my bud while I was gone?"

"Harry!" 

He cackles and shakes his head. "Alright, dovie, c'mere."

Hesitantly, she stands, shuffling over to where Harry is back to kneeling on the floor. He looks up at her with an expectant expression, a wordless command to do the same. She does.

"Okay. You said you were curious?"

She nods.

"I've always found that the best solution to curiosity is knowledge. This doesn't mean you have to do anything, but it's good to know about things that may intimidate you," he explains. "So, weed can be found in a few different forms. I only sell flower, which are these little buds," he pulls out a container, showing her the small green nuggets. "And edibles, which is just candy or chocolate, stuff like that, with different levels of potency." 

"Oh." Y/N furrows her eyebrows, a small wrinkle forming between them. "That's it?"

He chuckles, "Mhm. That's it."

"And what does it do?"

"Like how does it make me feel?"

She nods.

"It's different for everyone and strains — like, the types of weed — will affect people differently, too. For me, it just makes me a little more relaxed and giggly, more touchy and less in my head. It's nice."

"That does sound nice." she says softly. He hums as he pushes the container back into the safe, locking it back up in the cabinet. "Do you think I would like it?"

It's a question that kind of blurts out without thinking about it. When he turns to look at her, eyes serious and thoughtful, she feels small; the way everyone her age or older has always made her feel. She swallows harshly, immediately regretting it.

"I don't know the answer to that, but if you ever want to try, you can tell me. I'll make sure you have a safe experience."

It's not the answer she's expecting, but instead maybe the one that only exists in her wildest dreams. She looks down to hide her blush and he smiles to himself, ducking down to catch her eyes. 

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a blushy little thing."

Her jaw snaps closed, wiggling uncomfortably at his blatant call out. Her mother always told her that her emotions were easy to read — she said it made her weak, though. 

"I like it," Harry quickly amends, throat bobbing, "I like it a lot." 

She thinks she notices his eyes zip to her lips, but just as quickly as they dart down, they're back up to her eyes. She swallows when she realizes they've somehow gotten closer, the distance slowly closing between them in millimeters. She doesn't know who's moving in — if it's him or her or both — but suddenly, she's looking up and his face is hovering over hers, blinking in silent permission. When she doesn't grant it because she's too nervous to speak, his tongue peeks out, licking over his raspberry lips. 

"Is this okay?" He asks, minty breath ghosting over her mouth. "Can I do this?"

She nods, because she thinks any noise that would come out of her mouth would be just that — a sad excuse of a squeal. Her heart is pulsing in her ears, her hands trembling over her thighs, and then it happens — he presses his lips to hers, so gently it's almost like they aren't even there. The last time Y/N kissed someone, it was in ninth grade in the locker room after school, and she doubts it even qualified as a real kiss. This is different, though. This is Harry. 

He feels the nervousness radiating off of her so he breaks away, despite the already addictive taste of her mouth. He's gone too quickly and it makes Y/N's heart rate quicken even faster. 

"Need you to relax, princess." He says with his forehead pressed against hers. "Just follow my lead, okay? Promise it's not hard."

Embarrassed, she nods again, willing him to close the gap for a second time. This time, his lips are quick to move against hers, and it initially takes her by surprise. But she does what he told her to, mimicking his movements in tentative paces. With each passing moment, he's kissing her more and more breathless, and she lifts a shaking hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It's a bold move for her and she swears she feels his signature smirk form into their kiss. 

Time doesn't feel like it moves much when Y/N's mouth is on Harry's, but she knows it is because she needs a break to breathe. With panting lungs, she pulls away, watching as Harry's eyes flicker open. His lips are pinker somehow and swollen with spit. The image makes her core throb. 

"Y'okay?" He asks. Y/N notices his pupils are darkened and he shifts from his seat on the floor, adjusting his lower half. 

"Y-yeah," she nods, "Needed to, um, breathe."

He chuckles. "Yeah? Get a little dizzy there?"

"A little bit." 

"Cute," he murmurs, lifting his thumb to swipe a bit of spit away from her bottom lip. Instinctively, her mouth opens, and she watches as his eyes flicker to hers. Through labored breath, he slowly moves his thumb along her plushy lip, resisting the urge to sink it inside. She's not sure why something as small as this is stirring her insides, but her eyes widen when he breaks away, pushing the finger into his own mouth. 

"Oh." She breathes out. 

"I don't wanna scare you," Harry whispers, "But I'm completely fucked when it comes to you, dove. If you don't want this... want me, I need you to go now." 

She swallows. Slowly, she rises to her knees and inches towards him, closing the small gap that formed between their bodies. She's hesitant in her movements but pushes herself to straddle him, gently sinking her ass down into his lap. His eyes widen. 

"I want this. I want you." She says. 

"Good," Harry mumbles, brushing his lips against hers for the third time that afternoon, "Good." 

. . .

Y/N thinks she could go pro at lying to her parents.

A month ago, she had to spend hours preparing the perfect fib, coaching herself on how to articulate it just casually enough so it didn't seem fabricated. These days, they come out like nothing. 

I'll be home late, I have a group project to work on in the library.

I'm going to a tutoring session for one of my classes, I probably won't be home until dinnertime.

I'm spending some extra time on campus today so I can get a head start on a paper.

In all truthfulness, school couldn't be the furthest thing on her mind right now. Harry is.

Ever since that day they kissed at his shop, they haven't been able to spend more than a day apart. Mostly, they follow the same routine from that very afternoon, where he'll pick her up from her last class of the day and they'll walk back to St. Mark's together. Sometimes, Harry will have deals to do so they sit and talk in the downtime. Other days, he'll have actual work to tend to, accounting and whatever it is he does as a business owner, so she'll do some homework, enjoying the silent companionship. Y/N never stays too late into the evening, not wanting to push her luck with her parents, but Harry always sends her off with a kiss that leaves her breathless, making her promise to text him when she gets home.

And the kissing... yeah. 

Y/N likes to think she's gotten better at it from all the practicing they've been doing. She still gets a bit flustered, but it's one of her favorite things to do with him. The second they shuffle into his station, Harry closes the door so they're finally in private, and it's like a switch is turned on. Within seconds, they're wrapped up in each others arms, mouths wet and hot against one another. She's discovered that her favorite place to be is seated in his lap while his tongue explores her mouth, breathy pants parting her lips. He loves to squeeze her ass over the pleats of her skirt, knowing that it riles her up in the smallest forms of contact — tiny rolls of her hips, nails being pressed into his skin, a slight pull of his hair. 

She doesn't think things could get much better with Harry until today, during their typical makeout-and-grinding session, when he ducks beneath her jaw, pressing messy kisses to her soft skin. It's then that the words leave his lips. 

"Can I feel you under here, dove?"

His hand is fisting the hem of her skirt and the low tone of his voice makes lightning zip through her body. She doesn't know how to reply — she wants to say yes, but her mouth is dry from immediate anxiety. 

"N-no one's ever touched me there," she whispers, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Harry hums, unbothered, kissing her jaw once more before backing away slightly.

"Don't have to do if you don't want to. We can just keep doing what we've been doing if you'd prefer." he replies nonchalantly, his lips swollen. She swallows nervously, perturbed by his frank nature.

"I— I do want you to feel me," Y/N mumbles. It's not a lie — yes, she's a virgin who knows next to nothing about her body besides its reproductive process, but sometimes, when she goes home in the evening, she thinks about what it would like to keep going. She's seen movies and TV shows, but those have only made her even more curious. Sometimes the guy takes it slow and makes it romantic, other times it's painful and uncomfortable. She can only hope Harry would take care of her.

"Where, princess?"

Well, she can only hope that Harry would take care of her in his typical teasing ways.

Huffing, she shakes her head. "I can't say that, H."

"Can't touch you if I don't know where you want it," he murmurs, kissing her cheek lightly. "Wanna hear you say it. Ask me."

"Harry," she whines. "Please? You know... where."

"Here?" he asks, pressing his the warmth of his hand to her thigh. "This where you want me?"

"No."

"Hmm, how about here?" he moves his hand up just a bit further, inching underneath the fabric of her mini skirt to the crease of her thigh. Again, she shakes her head. 

"Dunno where you want me then, dove. Thought you were my good girl."

"H-higher." she mumbles, attempting to push her body closer so he gets the hint.

"Higher?" he echoes with a smirk, "Here?"

This time, his fingertips have found the waistband of her panties. It immediately feels wrong, but not because of who's touching her, but rather the act of it. She takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the voice in her head. Slowly, in an act of false confidence, she bunches the fabric of her skirt up at her hips, watching as Harry's eyes widen. They instantly dart down to the small wet patch between her thighs and it makes him groan softly.

"Jesus," he mutters, forgetting about his little game. He gently thumbs at her clit through the material and she jumps. Using his other hand to squeeze her hip, he tries to keep her steady, mumbling out an apology. "Am I allowed to see this cute little pussy?"

She clenches at his question, surprising herself with how turned on she feels from just a few words. 

"Yes," she nods, "Please."

"'Please'? Aren't you just the sweetest wet dream, hm?" Harry murmurs. He pushes the width of the fabric to the side, making Y/N shiver from the sudden exposure and being under his gaze. "Are you always this polite or is this just for me, princess?"

She licks over her lips when he parts her pussy with his ring and middle fingers. He hums, dipping a fingertip into her crease and lifting it to his mouth. He looks at her expectantly and she realizes she hasn't answered him yet.

"J-just for you." 

"Pretty, swollen pussy just begging for attention. Do you always get this needy when we kiss?" 

She nods, her eyelashes fluttering as he runs the tip of his pointer finger through her wetness. 

A poor excuse for an answer sounds through her lips, the affirmative tone being the only thing that gives him an idea of what she said. He snickers boyishly, Y/N's jaw dropping when they both feel her pussy pulsate. 

"I think my girl is a bit naughtier than I thought," he breathes, moving his finger back up to her clit to form slow, small circles. She gasps from the intensity, a new sensation of overwhelming pleasure that she's never received before. "Is that the truth, dovie? Do you wanna be my naughty girl instead of my polite one? Tell me." 

"Harry," she mewls, arching her back to press deeper into his touch, "P-please— feels really good."

"Yeah?" he smirks, a mocking tone to his voice that makes Y/N squeeze her eyes shut. "Yeah, does it feel really good?"

"You're— you're being mean—"

"Oh, I don't think so, dove. I think I'm letting you use my fingers to get off, petting this pretty little clit until you cum all over my hand. I don't think that's mean, do you?"

He stops stroking at her and her eyes snap open. She can feel how warm her face has gotten under his touch, quiet puffs of breath ghosting over his lips as his eyes twinkle, knowing what he's done.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks in a small voice.

"You said I was being mean," Harry replies with a shrug, "If I were really mean, I'd leave you here high and dry. Do you want to learn about edging today, Y/N?"

She shakes her head, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He hums and lifts his hand to his mouth, his pink tongue darting out to swirl around the fingers that were just caressing her. She watches him with wide eyes. She doesn't think she's ever been this turned on in her life.

"Do you like when I tease you?" he asks lowly. They both know the answer — her body couldn't lie even if she wanted to, and Harry noticed it the second he felt her pussy clench against nothing at his mocking tone.

"Y-yes." she whispers.

"Dirty girl," he murmurs, moving both his hands down to her hips to give them a squeeze. He tightens his hold on her and gently moves her up to the tattoo bed, helping her lay down. "We have all the time in the world to learn about what makes your pussy wet, but right now, I wanna make her cum. Can I do that, dovie?"

Y/N nods, allowing him to adjust her body however he wants. He smiles at how pliant she is for him, sticking to her good girl demeanor. 

"Need you to tell me if I go too far or if something doesn't feel right, okay?" he reminds her as he fits himself between her thighs, "At any point, you say stop and we do, no questions asked." 

"Yeah. Okay."

It's apparent to her that Harry is experienced, because it takes no time for him to wiggle his fingers back to their initial position. His thumb is applying the smallest bit of pressure to her clit, still sensitive from when he was playing with it before, but now he's circling over her hole with one of his larger fingers. She gasps at the slight intrusion. 

"Have you ever put your finger in here, princess?" 

She shakes her head. "N-no."

"Do you want me to?" he asks, though he can already feel the way her hole is all but sucking him in, "It won't hurt. Promise."

She trusts him — maybe foolishly, because she knows her parents would disown her if they knew the position she was in right now — but she pushes the thought to the back of her head, instead simply answering his question with a nod. He keeps his eyes on hers as he slowly pushes in, a gasp instantly falling from her plushy lips. Her immediate reaction is discomfort, but as he starts to stroke at something towards the back of her walls, it feels... good. Overwhelmingly good. So good that a loud moan frees itself from deep in her chest and he jumps up, gently pressing his other hand over her mouth. He ducks down and presses a kiss to the shell of her ear.

"Know I'm making your little hole feel so good, but there's other people here. I wanna keep those moans just for myself, okay?" 

Her eyes roll back as he continues to pump his finger inside of her, the assault on the magic little spot never stopping. She can sense the smirk that's likely formed on his face but she can't find it in her to care because she's never, ever felt this good before. She whimpers against his palm and he groans quietly, the sight of his gorgeous girl writhing beneath him nearly too much to handle. He wills his own raging hard-on away, instead focusing on Y/N's need to cum before he can even consider getting himself off. 

"H-harry," she sounds beautiful mewling his name even when it's muffled by his hand, "I feel— I'm—"

"I know, dove, I know," he coos, quickening the loops around her clit. She's growing increasingly sensitive from his touch as her hole throbs around his finger. "Let go for me. Let go for daddy, lemme see that pretty pussy soak me."

Realistically, he would've preferred introducing her to the whole daddy kink thing on different terms, but he's instantly reminded of how insanely lucky he is when those are the words that push her over the edge. His jaw drops as he watches her squirm underneath his hands, riding out her orgasm and squeezing him in the most delicious way. 

"Fuck, you're so fuckin' beautiful," he groans, unable to stop himself from lightly grinding his covered cock against her inner thigh. He can feel the warmth radiating off of her core and his desperation to feel her grows by the second. 

When her orgasm finally subsides, she's panting heavily and he swallows, palming himself over his pants. 

"Is this okay?" he asks breathily. Y/N raises up onto her elbows, her eyes growing a bit wide when she sees what he's doing. Despite how exhausted she is, she still nods, the curiosity of what he looks like when he comes steadily building inside her. "'s not gonna take me long — that was the prettiest thing I've ever fuckin' see. Jesus."

She blushes but he doesn't notice as he pulls his cock out from under his pants and boxers. He spits into his palm and starts to stroke himself, his gaze glued to the swollen mess between her legs. 

In college, Y/N watched porn once. It was with her roommate and her friends, who found out she was a virgin and asked if she knew anything about sex. She didn't, so they had some sort of debauched education night for her, which was really just an excuse to giggle and make fun of the way guys moan in porn. It made her feel weird, watching this couple have sex on camera, but what she does remember is the girl encouraging him to cum. Once she started begging, it pushed him to her orgasm, and Y/N was pretty impressed with that.

So, she swallows her self-conscious nature and gazes up at Harry as the slick pumps over his length grow clumsy. She can see the pre-cum bubbling at the tip and the way he gathers it with each stroke, using it to further lubricate himself. 

"Want you to cum for me," she breathes out, the words sounding foreign when they leave her lungs, "Please. Wanna see it."

Harry's eyes nearly bulge out of his head and she assumes she's done something right by the way he quickly squeezes them shut, a quiet fuck falling from his lips. 

"Please cum for me, daddy."

Much like it was for her, the use of his honorific is what finally pushes him to his finish. His jaw goes slack and his chest vibrates with muffled groans as spurts of cum rain down on Y/N's mound, eliciting a small gasp as the feeling. It's messy, but she's enamored by how gorgeous Harry looks when he comes: swollen lips, clenched abs, flushed cheeks, his large hand fisted around his length. 

"Shit," he mutters, reaching up with his clean hand to push his curls out of his face, "Are you alright? Was that okay?"

She nods far too quickly for her own good. She'd be lying if she says she isn't slightly overwhelmed, but she wouldn't take any of it back. She never wants to forget how good he made her feel, while the knowledge that she's the one that turned him on like that is a boost to her confidence. 

"Lemme clean you up, hold on," he says breathily, reaching over to grab one of the folded hand towels in the cabinet. Gently, he runs the fabric over her sensitive bottom half, shushing her softly. He does the same thing for himself and then helps her shimmy her panties back up. "You sure you feel alright, dove? You're being quiet." 

"'m okay. Just tired." She replies truthfully, sitting up to lean back against the wall. 

"Yeah? One little orgasm and you're ready for a nap?" 

She giggles and buries her head into his shoulder,  her limbs feeling particularly jelly-like. He wraps a loose arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, chuckling as he presses a kiss to her hair. 

"That's alright. I'm happy to take care of you however you need, princess." 

. . .

"When were you planning on telling me the bookstore is hiring?"

Harry's eyes widen at Y/N's unusually bold demeanor. He glances down at her, following her gaze to where she's staring at the small bookstore across the street. Sure enough, there's a help wanted sign in the window. 

"I didn't know you were looking for a job, dove," he replies with a shrug. In all honesty, he's never really paid attention to the business across the street from his own. 

"Well... I'm not really, but I do want to start making my own money." she says softly, biting her lip. 

He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah? You wanna go see if you can fill out an application?"

Despite her nerves, she still nods her head. Harry smiles and intertwines their fingers together, guiding her across the way to the bookstore. He holds the door open for her and she swallows anxiously, stepping inside the quaint store. With his hand pressed to the small of her back, he gently ushers her to the cashier. 

"Hi," she says shakily, "I saw you're hiring people and I was wondering if I could apply." 

The woman at the front grins, immediately launching into a conversation with Y/N about how excited she is that someone's interested in working for them. As she pulls a paper application out from a drawer on the side, Harry smoothes his hand over her back, rubbing it gently. He's so proud of her, his heart feels like it could burst. 

It's only when she's finishing up filling out her information that someone says her name. They both turn, Y/N's eyebrows instantly furrowing in confusion. 

"Y/N," the woman hisses, and Harry glances down to watch his girl's face crumble, "What are you doing?"

"Y/N... who is this?" Harry asks, his possessive instincts immediately taking over. 

She swallows harshly, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater. 

"Um... this is my mom."

read part two here!

[powerfultenderness]

Jealous

Pairing: Adrian Chase x Reader (F)

Rated: Explicit 18+

Summary: Adrian’s jealousy leads to a peculiar discovery. 

Warnings: PWP. Possessive!Adrian. smut including: Daddy kink, light choking, cum play/eating.

Word Count: 4918

A/N: Big shout out and thanks to @pretendfan​ for helping me through the seagull problem (mine! 😆) and for keeping me motivated on this one!

[Vigilante x Reader Masterlist]

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[vigilvntes]

Be Good For Me - Adrian Chase x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Im so sorry for whatever the hell this is i don't know what came over me no i am not ok do not ask i've just been thinking about him all day so uh . yeah. this has been in the drafts for a while but i just decided to finish it today so </3

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT JUST PURE UNAPOLOGETIC FILFTH HONESTLY, use of restrains/being tied up, thigh-riding, orgasm denial, hand-jobs, vaginal sex, dirty talk, sub!adrian :)

Word Count: 2.2k

••••••••••••••••••

Adrian's cock was rock hard, probably harder than it had ever been before. His wrists were tied to the bedposts (the restraints not too tight, but tight enough to ensure that he couldn't just slip himself out of them), his legs spread wide for you as he awaited your return. Shaking, sweat glistening on his skin, his face contorting in a pained pleasure as he bucked his hips into the empty space.

If he listened closely enough, he could hear you singing along to a catchy pop song in the kitchen. He imagined that you were dancing around, a smirk on your lips as you thought about your boyfriend, alone and tied up in your room, his cock vieny and angry and desperate for you to relieve him.

That thought alone was enough to illicit a whine from his throat.

Adrian knew what he signed up for when he agreed to let you restrain him. Truthfully, it was something he had fantasised about. Sure, he liked to be in control sometimes, but there was nothing more he loved than to submit.

He just never expected you to be this ruthless.

You had been pushing him to edge for the best part of an hour, only to pull away completely at the last second and leave him writhing and desperate for more.

This time, you had been gone for almost ten minutes, and it was killing him. He was so desperately horny, and he was getting pretty fucking pissed off about it as the minutes ticked by agonisingly slow.

"Fuck!" He spat out, glancing down at his cock. The tip was swollen and leaking with precum.

Only a moment later, he heard your footsteps coming down the hallway. You pushed the bedroom door open, leaning against the side frame, a mug in your hands. You wore only a button-up shirt you had stole from his drawer. "Did you say something?" You asked casually.

"I..." All words were lost on him. "No." He answered finally

"That's funny, because I thought you did." You raised your eyebrows at him, your features breaking out into a grin when you saw his eyes flick between the your face and the mug in your hands. "Oh, it's coffee." You replied, lifting the mug. "I would have made some for you but you... y'know, kinda have your hands tied." Oops. You couldn't resist. The look he gave you was deadly, but what the fuck could he do about it? His hands were literally tied.

You raised the mug up to your lips, taking a sip of your coffee, smirking when you heard a groan come from his throat, his eyes now firmly trained on the shirt which had ridden up your thighs.

You gave him a sweet smile, "Oh, just look at you, baby. You look so sweet like this. I wish you could see yourself." You mumbled, making your way over to the bed, placing your mug down on the nightstand.

You stood over him, reaching down to push his hair away from his forehead, smirking when he glanced up at you, his eyes filled with hope.

So, he tried his luck. "Please. Please touch me. P-please... I can't... I need you to touch me. I've been so good for you." His tone was frantic, a pitch higher as he desperately tried to plead his case.

He truly did look so cute like this, that much you couldn't deny. He was a beautiful boy anyway, but there was just something about seeing him all tied up, pupils dilated and lips agape as he begged you that made him all the more pretty.

You chewed on your bottom lip, your gaze glancing down to his cock, swollen and hard and waiting for you to bring him to his release. Surely it wouldn't hurt to touch him, just for a minute.

"Well... you are being so good for me. So patient..." You whispered, climbing on the bed, moving to straddle his waist, sitting yourself just above his cock. "Tell me what you want from me." You demanded, your hands running up his toned chest.

"I just want you to touch me. Just touch me. I just need to feel you. Fuck! Please!" He begged in that whiny voice.

"You want me to touch you?" You spat into your hand and reached around slowly. "You want me to touch you... here?" You asked sweetly, your fingers now wrapped around the base of his cock, his hips bucking up into your touch instinctively.

"Yes! Fuck-... Yes, please." He corrected himself quickly, knowing he wouldn't get anything from you if he wasn't polite about it.

"Such a good boy." You mumbled, your thumb rubbing circles on his chest as your other hand remained stationary on his cock. You could see he was desperate to move, desperate for any kind of friction. So, you relented. "Okay. I'll touch you. But you have to promise to be good. Don't cum until I say you can, do you understand?"

Adrian let out a low hum, but it wasn't enough. You needed an answer. "Adrian... do you understand?" You repeated, a warning in your voice.

"Yes." He panted out, squeezing his eyes closed.

"Good."

You began fisting his cock, slow and steady, watching his every movement as you pump your hand up and down. You keep track of his reactions. The way his eyes screw shut, the way his brows furrow together when you run your thumb across the head of his cock. The way his jaw clenches and his breathing starts to sound more like panting right before he cums.

He looked fucking beautiful like this, completely at your mercy. It took everything in you to not just allow him to cum there and then, just so you could watch every single twitch of his lips and every expression that flashed on his features as he came.

But you weren't about to allow yourself to break so easily.

You pulled your hand away at the last moment.

"Fff- Oh, fuck. No. No. Please. Come back. Please." His hips met the air, wrists tugging against the restraints as he searched for that last bit of friction to push him over the edge. He moaned and whined, his legs shaking, writhing underneath you, a plea for you to give him anything more.

"You were about to cum." You stated simply.

"N-No... I wasn't!" He protested weakly, still panting under you.

"Don't lie to me. You were about to cum. I told you that you weren't allowed to do that until I said so, didn't I?"

"Y-yes! You said that!" He spat. Oh, he was seething. He had gotten so close, so close to just letting go and cumming in your hand. He didn't care about the consequences anymore. Whatever you dished out afterwards, he was prepared to take.

"Watch your fucking tone." You scolded.

You moved to stand up then, but a strangled whine from his throat caught your attention. You looked down at him, eyebrows raised, daring him to speak. And he did. "Fuck... No... Please don't go. P-please don't leave me here again. Fuck. You're so beautiful. You're so pretty. I want you to stay here. I wanna look at you. I wanna see you cum. Please... Just- Fffuck--.... use me. Just don't leave. Not again."

"You want me to use you to make myself cum?" You let a slight smile grace your lips as he nodded quickly, mumbling, "Fuck. You're lucky you're so cute..." as you inched down his body (not missing how his eyes flickered down to the wet patch you had left on his lower stomach) eventually settling on his thick thigh. Your legs were situation on either side, and your hot, sopping cunt was pressed against his skin.

You began to grind your hips, pressing your cunt down against his thigh. One hand slipped up to your shirt, popping the buttons open slowly until your chest was exposed to him.

Adrian just watched you quietly with hooded eyes and parted lips, almost in awe of you as you rode his thigh. He watched the way your breasts bounced as you rolled your hips against, the way you let quiet moans slip through your lips whenever your clit brushed against his skin.

You leaned forward, angling yourself in a way that meant your clit was pressed firmly against his skin. He was being so good for you, so patient and pretty and perfect, watching you fuck yourself on his thigh. You couldn't help but breathe out a laugh when he let out a yelp as your fingers curled around his cock unexpectedly, stroking languidly, keeping in time with your own movements.

The pressure on your clit was delicious, and you could feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. His quiet moans and whimpers, his hips bucking up to meet your fist, only spurred you on, urged you to grind your hips down faster against him, watching him watch you come undone on his thigh, his eyes flickering from your face, your chest and your cunt.

When you came, you came hard. You threw your head back, eyes squeezed shut, letting out an almost pornographic moan as waves of pleasure ripped through your body. Adrian groaned underneath you, your hand now loosely gripping his cock while you rode out the rest of your orgasm.

Adrian wanted to touch you. He wanted to touch you so bad. It was taking everything in him to not force himself out of the restraints, hold you through your orgasm then fuck you dizzy.

"Oh, fuck..." You panted out, your head tilted back, looking at him through your eyelashes. "That was so fucking good..."

I wouldn't know, he wanted to say, but he kept it to himself. He was sure he had softened you, broke you down. He was sure you would be kind to him now. And he was right.

"Do you wanna cum?" You breathed out, shifting back up until your cunt hovered just above his cock.

"God, yes." Adrian moaned out.

"Do you think you deserve to cum?" You inquired. Hell, you were becoming impatient now. You wanted him inside of you.

"I-I don't know... Do you think I deserve to cum?"

"Yeah. I think you've been good for me. So good." You ran your finger across his lip before leaning down, kissing him softly.

Then, you sank down on to his cock. Slowly, slowly, slowly. You sighed in relief at the feeling of your walls stretching out to accommodate him. You loved to tease him, to keep him on the edge, but there was nothing you loved more than feeling him inside of you.

Adrian, on the other hand, was about to lose his fucking mind.

He knew he wouldn't last long, not with your tight cunt squeezing his cock just right. He had been waiting for this all night. Waiting for you to slide yourself on to his cock and fuck him until he came.

"Oh fuck... Fff-... I love this cunt. I love being inside of you. You're so beautiful. So perfect. Treat me so well." He babbled as you sat still on his cock, "So good to me. My perfect princess. Looking after me so well. F-fuck... Please... Let me cum. Wanna cum inside this sweet pussy."

A few rolls of your hips and he was cumming inside of you. He remained quiet at first, and you watched his face twist, his neck straining, eyes squeezed shut until he let out a guttural moan from the back of his throat. It wasn't long until he was bucking his hips into you, cursing and pulling at the restraints, moaning your name along with 'i love you's' and 'thankyou's' as he shot rope after rope of his hot cum inside of you.

You pressed your lips against his as he rode out his orgasm, mumbling that he was your good boy and you loved him and that he had been so, so good for you.

Reaching up, you tugged the restraints loose, allowing his hands to roam freely once again. He wrapped his arms around your body, clutching you tight against him, whimpering against your shoulder while you peppered kisses on his cheeks, forehead and nose.

"You good?" You whispered, sitting up once his whimpered moans had died down and his breathing had settled. He was still inside of you, still rock hard, though you weren't surprised since you had had him on the edge for almost an hour.

Adrian glanced up at you then, a dazed and lazy (yet still shit-eating) grin on his lips. "Fuck yeah. Never been better. Ready to go again, actually."

You raised your eyebrows, but not in shock or disbelief. More because you expected that response from Adrian. "You wanna go again?"

"Fuck yeah, I do."

"You're insatiable." You mumbled, leaning down to press your lips against his, his hand coming up to cup your face. You had planned on running him a hot bath, making him a cup of coffee and cuddling up to him with a shitty Netflix horror movie, but Adrian's plans differed wildly from your own.

"Hey, can I fuck you this time?" He asked excitedly, sitting himself up against the bed frame.

"....Fine."

••••••••••••

tags because im a big dummy and i forgot (if you've already seen this then ignore </3)

@juniebugg @bvcksmurdock @neptuneswritingwork @cressida-clearwood @withahappyrefrain @all-the-captains @lindenvale @tinalbion @ladamari68 @flower-slut00 @milfodyssey @madmax2191 @andromacher @myguiltypleasures21 @osnapitzandi @flutterskies @emmaflag17 @trash--blog @jlclvsjpm @papitas-con-sal @thedamchii @abbynx @lunaticsandidiots @skateb0red @fenderenderender @possessedxparrot @transias @aprilfire18 @the-a-word-2214 @winterrfalconn

[perlelune]

NDA | Coriolanus Snow

When you get hired as a nanny for President Snow and his wife's firstborn, you’re beyond thrilled and grateful. But quickly, the perfect facade melts, revealing the ugly truth of what actually goes on in the Snows' house.

Warnings: NON-CON, Capitol! Reader, Innocent Reader, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Power Imbalance

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your worried eyes track the frenzied glide of the woman’s quill over the notepad. You squint, hoping to discern some of the words she’s scrawling that way, but they are indiscernible…just like the stone-cold expression of the bespectacled woman on the other side of the desk.

She catches you trying to peek. Your heart jumps.

As her sharp green gaze zeroes in on you, you clear your throat and shift in your seat.

She puts her quill down and twines her fingers.

“So what do you think sets you apart  from the other applicants?”

You chew on your lip. When you arrived to offer your candidature this morning, you naively believed you’d be early. Instead, you were forced to join the tail end of the massive waiting line stretching far outside the Snows’ estate. It didn’t hit you before that moment, how prized the position is. Each of the women and girls you saw radiated excellent breeding and impeccable manners. Many probably attended the University and could double as a tutor if the need presents itself.

This isn’t your case. Your parents left you and your brother Laertes with nothing when they suddenly passed away in a rebel bombing. You couldn’t blame them. This wasn't the plan. Who plans on dying and leaving their two children to fend for themselves?

Still, you now have a list of bills the length of your arm coupled with a massive mortgage to pay every month. And as Laertes’ sole caretaker, you must ensure you can afford to send him to University once he completes his education in the Academy.

Circumstances denied you that chance. Despite being of university’s age, you couldn’t afford the cost of tuition and had to drop out as soon as you got accepted. You want better for your little brother.

So as soon as you heard the news that President Snow and First Lady Livia Cardew were in search of a nanny for their son Martius, you jumped on the opportunity to apply. You rose before the sun, rummaged through your mother’s closet to find her best dress, and hailed a car to come here.

It’s a long shot, of course. You’re not as polished and impressive as some of the other women. You’re also noticeably younger. But the wages promised alone compelled you to take a chance despite the odds being unfavorable.

Fiddling with your hands, you meet the woman’s impassive stare head-on.

“What sets me apart?” You mull over your answer. You could paint a false, august portrait of yourself, your skills and your accomplishments. Or try to at least.

But what would be the point of pretending to be someone you’re not only to be found out later on? So you elect to tread the path of honesty.

“Nothing,” you say. “But I’m a hard worker. A very hard worker. In fact, I already have three jobs, one at a bakery, another as a clerk in an antique shop and I assist Fabricia Whatnot at her boutique sometimes.” Panic quivers inside you as the woman quickly jots something down on her notepad. You swiftly specify, “...But I’ll quit all of them if I get the position, of course.” You lick your lips as knots tie your stomach. “I can learn everything there is to learn on the spot. I love children, and…” You trail off, gaze traveling to your lap as you muse if you should reveal more. Your fists clench as you add, “I have a little brother who’s a few years older than Martius, and I’m really hoping I get this opportunity so I can give him the life he deserves.”

An unnerving quiet occupies the air. The wait is agony, your nails digging painfully into your palms. The jagged drumming of your heart bleeds inside your ears as she studies you.

Eventually, she leans back in the velvet chair, her face betraying no thought or emotion.

“You’re dismissed,” she says.

Your heart plummets to your feet. You shakily rise, dispirited as you drag your heels towards the door. You steal a glance above your shoulder. The woman’s attention has already drifted away from you as she shouts for the next applicant.

You sourly exit the office. You try to swallow your dejection as you note how many women are still waiting in line, each of them likely more qualified and experienced. It’s obvious you tanked the interview. Shoulders slumping, you take resigned steps through the elegant, palatial hallways of the Snow’s mansion. You get lost in admiring the crystal and gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There isn’t an inch of the house that doesn’t scream excessive, unattainable wealth.

You take your time soaking it in. Chances are you’ll never step foot in such a place in your lifetime ever again.

Distracted, you don’t notice the person in front of you before it’s too late. You bump straight into a hard, inflexible body. 

The sudden collision threatens your balance.

Fingers coil around your wrists as you stagger back, preventing your impending collapse onto the marbled floor.

As your attention drifts skywards, your jaw drops at who fills your vision.

“P-President Snow, my deepest apologies, s-sir,” you stammer, flames licking your cheeks.

As if you didn’t make yourself look dimwitted enough before, you now carelessly crashed into the leader of all of Panem. Just when you thought the day couldn’t possibly get worse.

You take him in. It truly is him. Shock fills you. 

 Tall and dazzling in a crisp white shirt and crimson vest that hints at his lean physique beneath the clothes, his signature blond waves slicked away from his face, he looks every bit the important figure that he is.

The flickering TV screen you own at home doesn’t do him justice.

A gentle smirk unfurls on his lips.

“It’s quite alright. I’m not made of sugar,” he jests.

“No…you’re not, your highness…majesty...I mean sir.”

Your blunder expands his smile. His cerulean gaze drags over your frame.

“Are you here for the nursemaid position?”

“I am, sir.” You unleash a deep exhale, his inquiry tossing salt on the fresh wound. The interviewer clearly wasn’t impressed by your less than stellar performance. Maybe you should have tried to mimic the way the girls with whom you attended the Academy behave more. They carry themselves with such confidence, wading through the world with the certainty of their destinies being secure, bereft of hardships unlike district dwellers.

You envy how carefree they get to be. Everyday you wake up worried you’ll come up short on a bill and you and Laertes will be forced to leave your family home. No matter how diligent you are at work, there never seems to be enough money to sustain the two of you. Even with three jobs, you’re barely eking out a decent living for you and your little brother. Many times, you’ve gone to bed hungry just so Laertes would not.

You don’t even realize tears have filled your eyes to the brim until a handkerchief is daintily pressed into your cheeks.

Flabbergasted, you blink up at President Snow. 

“Thank you,” you exhale, stunned by his kind gesture.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

You search his eyes. Genuine interest lights up his pellucid blue orbs.

Without much thought, you confess, “I just don’t think I did very well with my interview.”

As he scrutinizes you in silence, cocking his head sideways, embarrassment rushes through you.

Words anxiously leave your lips in a tremulous string.

“God, I’m so sorry, spilling my problems to you as if you’re not an extremely busy man, sir.”

He shakes his head. “It’s quite alright. And do not count yourself defeated, sweetheart.” Your pulse stutters when he bends over you to whisper, “You may have left a stronger impression than you think.”

He nudges the pocket square between your hands. It’s still damp with your tears. You gape at it in awe. President Snow’s initials are elegantly etched in the left corner of the fabric.

“Here. Keep it. Though I’d much prefer it if you didn’t cry.” He pauses, studying you. “Girls as lovely as you never should.”

His words send your heart into a frenzy. For a while, you’re too stunned to move. You then shake yourself back to reality, noticing you’re now staring at the empty space where he used to stand. He’s gone. You look ahead. He’s already miles away from you, wrapped in conversation with who seems to be an assistant of his. 

Your thumbs press against the soft fabric of the pocket square. Cheeks ablaze, you hold it to your nose. It smells like roses, the same delicate scent that wafted from him a few minutes ago. Your back prickles. You pivot and are astonished to find the envious glares of some of the applicants still waiting in line zeroed in on you. Self-conscious, you rush to continue your exit, fleeing away from the hateful stares. 

As the outside gates come into sight, you can’t suppress an elated smile. It’s not everyday someone meets President Snow and receives such a gift from him. Shoving the handkerchief in your pocket, you vow to place it somewhere safe and always cherish it. 

When you return home, your brother’s already sitting in the living room, his tiny brows scrunched in concentration and his nose buried in his books. Your stomach sinks. Everything you did today was for him. You can’t help but feel you missed out on a huge opportunity, one that’d have changed the course of his life forever. You glance around at the apartment. The walls are crumbling. The wooden floors are creaking. The pipes in the kitchen have been leaking for weeks, a measly bucket you must empty every morning the only thing preventing a flood. And at night, the pitter-patter of rodents’ paws resonates from the ceiling.

Every inch of your family home is in dire need of repairs.

Unfortunately, every penny you earn goes into rent and food, meaning the house falls apart a bit more everyday. Perhaps one day, you and Laertes will awake beneath the rubble of what’s left of your childhood home. Nightmares of that sometimes keep you up at night.

“How was the Academy today?” you chime, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Worry twists your chest. There isn’t much left. You’ll need to make do with cabbage and whatever other veggies are left. Perhaps you could toss in some leftover dried meat and make a stew.

“My teacher signed me up for advanced trigonometry,” your brother announces.

You close the cabinet and beam at him.

“Oh, that sounds hard. I’m proud of you.” It doesn’t exactly surprise you. Laertes’ always been exceptionally smart. Even his teachers noticed how gifted he is from an early age. Unlike you, he breezed through middle school and now the Academy.

It’s why it’s crucial you make sure he can go to the University. A mind like his shouldn’t be wasted.

You brother shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

You rush to him. You wrap your arm around him playfully and hug him in his chair, pulling his cheek like when he was little. You know he hates when you do that but you can’t help teasing him a bit. It’s your duty as a big sister after all.

“Don’t downplay it. My little brother’s a genius.”

He wriggles his way out of the hug, rolling his eyes. 

“Stop it.”

You head back to the kitchen and fire the stove.

“I’ll make you something,” you say, smiling at your brother.

His brows knit. “Make something for yourself first.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You truly hoped he wouldn’t notice, how much smaller than his your portions are. But he’s growing; he needs it. Much more than you. Besides, how can he focus at the Academy and be the brilliant boy he is supposed to be with a growling stomach? You won’t allow it.

“Laertes…”

He shakes his head, his expression firm.

“No. You always do this. This time, we split whatever is left.”

Heaving out a resigned exhale, you nod. You whirl to resume preparing dinner.

You gather a boiling pot from the overhead cabinet and place it on the stove. With the ease of practice, you begin chopping vegetables and tossing them into the pot. You add spices and water. The mouthwatering aroma quickly fills the kitchen. Pride swells in your chest. Your cooking skills have improved so much in the last year since your parents passed. You now manage to bring flavor to the blandest of meals. 

Once the stew’s ready, you pour a portion in each bowl, putting just a little more in your brother’s and praying he will not notice.

You place the steaming bowls on the table and take a seat opposite him.

“No books at the dining table,” you admonish, mimicking the exact tone your mother used with your brother. Admitting defeat, Laertes sighs and sets his homework aside. The tiny victory tugs your lips skyward.

He tells you about his day at the Academy while the two of you eat. You’re delighted to hear he’s making a lot of friends and he’s at the top of his class for most science subjects. He’s struggling a bit more with his poetry and ethics classes, but you encourage him by reminding him he can just ask the teacher for extra assignments to keep his grade up.

“I interviewed for a new job today,” you reveal, stirring the spoon in your bowl while waiting for your brother to eat more of his food.

“How did it go?”

“Well, it pays really well so I’m hopeful.”

The hope dancing in his eyes makes your chest ache. You don’t have the heart to tell him you made a fool of yourself today. You may not be gifted like your brother, but you want him to know he can rely on you at least.

Pursing his mouth, he looks down at his stew.

“That’s great. It’d be good if you didn’t have to work as much.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”

“Okay.”

His dour tone stirs your concern. You wish you were better at hiding things from him, making his childhood as normal as possible. But your brother’s twelve now, and that’s old enough to sense when things are wrong.

He rises from his seat. You frown as you note there’s still food left in his bowl.

“Finish your plate before going to your room.”

Annoyance pinches his features but he still picks up his bowl and hastily guzzles down the remainder of his stew.

“Happy now?” he says, wiping his mouth.

“Yes. Very,” you cheerfully respond.

He gathers his books and strides towards his room. 

Your voice rises.

“Don’t stay up too late to study, okay? I love you.”

“I…love you too,” he mumbles.

You bask in the moment as you clean the table. Thankfully Laertes is still at an age where he says it back. One day he might not. So you must cherish every instant. Every conversation, every hug, every ‘I love you’. Because it could all vanish in a second. You learned that the hard way a year ago.

The day of the interview recedes to the back of your mind as you keep living your life. Work is harrowing, as usual, but you tend to your tasks as best as you can. Your arms ache as you knead the dough in the back of the bakery. You give yourself a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead. It’s been a hectic afternoon. There’s a massive pastry order for some Capitol heiress’ birthday due tomorrow. So you’ve been racing between the front desk and the kitchen in the back. A baker called in sick today, leaving you with twice the workload.

You know it won’t take much to crash into your bed and fall asleep tonight.

To make matters worse, the day hits its nadir when you get your pay that day. You peer inside the envelope for the umpteenth time. An anxious chuckle peals out of your lips. 

“I’m sorry I don’t want to complain, but…this doesn’t match the hours I put in.”

The owner scratches the back of his neck, a contrite expression etched on his face.

“I’m sorry too. With the new taxes imposed by the Capitol, I had to cut your salary.”

Slack-jawed by the news, no word leaves your mouth as you stare at him. He sighs.

“If it’s a problem, we can find someone else-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, blinking in panic. “Please, I need this job.”

He acquiesces and you’re forced to thank him despite feeling cheated. You actually scaled back your hours for your other part-times since this one paid more. What a waste. 

Dispirited, you return home. As you give the driver a bill for the fare, your insides wrench. Every bill counts. Perhaps you’ll need to walk back home from now on. The streets of the Capitol are notoriously dangerous but you can’t see any other way to save your dwindling wages. You already know you’ll need to request an extension for rent this month. How will you pay it, however?

You suppose you’ll have to figure it out. You always figure it out.

These are the somber thoughts swaying in your mind as you check the mailbox. 

Bills. Bills. And more bills. Your already sour mood plummets even more. But a slim, silver envelope sticking out from the pile corrals your focus. Curiosity surges inside you. It looks fancy and there’s a wax seal with the Capitol’s symbol keeping it shut. You rush to open it, heart fluttering in strange anticipation.

You unfold the neatly folded letter inside. As you read the words, you gasp, dropping the letter. Still trembling from shock and excitement, you bend to pick it up. 

You take a deep slow breath before reading it again. 

This time, a squeal escapes from your lips. 

You read it many more times to make sure your eyes aren’t just conjuring wild fantasies. 

After a while, you realize they aren’t. It’s true. 

Holding the letter to your chest, you toss yourself on your bed and kick your feet excitedly. 

You then place your palm on your forehead. In disbelief, you beam at the ceiling. 

Somehow…you’ve been hired to work for the Snows. You actually got the job. 

Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.

You fidget before the iron gates, smoothing absent wrinkles on your skirt. It’s one of the best outfits you could find on short notice that wasn’t moth-eaten or visibly overworn. You pray it’s enough. You let your gaze wander. The Snows’ estate truly is majestic. The lush gardens. The beautiful architecture. You feel a little small as you admire the mansion.

Remembering yourself, you pivot to the man who drove you there. You fish inside your pocket for a bill and hand it to him. He stares at you blankly from the driver’s seat.

A weary sigh ripples behind you.

You turn, your eyes widening. It’s the woman who interviewed you that day. She wears the same stern expression.

“You don’t need to pay him,” she explains, dismissing the man with her hand. He nods and drives away. “He’s your assigned driver. He’ll pick you up each day and take you back home.”

“Oh.” You offer your hand. “Nice to meet you…again.”

She gives you a lengthy onceover, completely ignoring your gesture. Then she motions at you to follow her. You let your hand fall to your side. Heat blooms in your cheeks. Perhaps, you were too enthusiastic just then. Straightening your spine, you try your best to keep pace with her quick strides.

“I’m Pandora. I supervise most housekeeping duties for the president. I’ll show you around the estate. Then you’ll meet the young Master.”

She gives you a tour of the mansion. You’re even more amazed than last time though you try to suppress your awe and not stare excessively. She shows you the garden as well. The sea of snow-white roses makes your head spin. She specifies that the only part of the house that is off-limits is the west wing of the mansion, as these are the First Lady’s apartments and she must have rest and quiet.

She ends the visit by taking you to the nursery. A smile spontaneously finds its way onto your lips. A toddler plays with his toy train on the floor. With his blonde curls and bright blue eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to his father.

“That’s him? He’s so cute,” you whisper. Even the stern woman’s expression thaws a little as she looks at the child, softening ever-so-slightly. You send her a questioning glance. She gives you a nod of approval. 

You approach the boy and crouch in front of him.

“Hi. You’re Martius, right?”

He lifts his head and beams at you. You’re immediately endeared. Again, his smile reminds you of President Snow. You suppose one could probably take over the world with a smile like that. 

You turn to Pandora.

“Is his mother around? I should probably introduce myself.”

Her face pinches. “Mistress Livia has been unwell as of late. She is not to be disturbed today as she is quite tired.”

“Of course.” Your lips squeeze shut for a few seconds but curiosity gets the better of you. A question burns on your lips, one that nagged you ever since you got the job. It slips out before you can think it through. “Is this…Is this why the president and his wife require a nanny? The First Lady is sick?”

Pandora glowers at you. You flinch as she steps further inside the room, her searing tone like a whip.

“You are here to do your job, and nothing else. Mistress Livia’s health is no concern of yours. Do you hear me?”

You rise on shaky feet. You forgot yourself.

“I-I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”

“This reminds me. You have to sign this,” she says, handing you a pen and clipboard. A thin stack of papers are attached to the clipboard. The front page spells ‘Non-Disclosure Agreement’ in bold letters at the very top. You scowl as you flip through the pages.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a contract, one signed by every one of the President’s employees.”

“I don’t understand most of what’s written here…”

A frustrated exhale peals from her lips.

“I’ll make it simple for you then. For the duration of your employment here, nothing you see or hear must ever leave this house. You are here to care for the young master, that is all. Nothing else should concern you. Is that clear enough?”

You swallow thickly. It doesn’t sound hard at all. Discretion is essential in every job, isn’t it? But the way Pandora makes it sound, you’d assume there are bodies buried beneath the Snows’ estate. You’d laugh if her death stare weren’t so disquieting.

You peruse the contract, perplexed by most of the legal mumbo jumbo filling the pages. None of it rings any bell. You understand the gist of it however. You must preserve the president and his wife’s privacy. While you don’t know the specifics of the first lady’s condition, her public appearances have been few and far between in the last few years.

She used to be the envy of every woman in the Capitol. Beautiful, young and married to the dashing President Snow.

She was a fairytale princess come to life.

Then their son Martius was born. And when they held him up from the balcony of their mansion for all of Panem to gaze upon, they truly seemed like the perfect family.

Until one day, Livia Cardew simply…vanished.

She was noticeably absent from all the events of the season, some she even hosted herself. Tongues wagged of course, rumors and wild theories spreading like wildfire. 

But no one knew the truth of what had happened to her.

The matter seems delicate. You promise yourself not to bring it up again.

You click the pen and scribble your name at the bottom of the very last page.

“I’ve…never signed a contract like that before starting a job.”

Pandora lets out a wry chuckle.

“Well, you’ve never worked for President Snow.”

As promised, you quit your two other jobs to focus solely on Martius. You’re hesitant at first. Your departed parents taught you never to put all your eggs in one basket. And it’s exactly what you’d be doing by trusting the Snows. But when you receive your first paycheck, long before the end of the week, every qualm you had fades. It’s more money than you’ve ever had, more money than you expected. Rent isn’t an issue anymore. Neither is food.

Besides, gifts keep coming from the estate. Clothes mostly, for both you and Laertes, but also jewelry, perfume and other fancy things you don’t need. Overwhelmed by President Snow’s generosity, you try to send some of it back, but you don’t have the heart to return everything when you see your brother’s happy face when he opens his wardrobe one day.

You’ve caught the self-conscious glimpses he casts at his classmates sometimes, when not wearing the Academy uniform. Their clothes are always brand new and custom, perfectly tailored while his are stitched back together by your clumsy hands whenever they fray at the seams. You’re not a seamstress but you’ve always done your best. But you know your best doesn’t compare to the access and privilege those kids have.

Other than those blessings, your time with Martius has been a breeze. Only hazy memories of your brother as a toddler linger in your mind, but you don’t recall him ever being as sweet and calm as the little boy is.

It hardly feels like work, caring for the small child. You spend the day playing along with his games, reading stories to him and, as the day nears its end, the two of you feed the ducks in the massive pond behind the mansion. He even gives them names and gets upset when they fight with each other. 

“Lily doesn’t like James anymore,” he whispers to you one day, a sullen pout scrunching his tiny features. 

“And why is that?”

“I think she’s angry that he steals her food.”

You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. The little boy always has a story for everything he sees. At all times, his world must make sense. So if he cannot find a reason to explain what fills his gaze, he’ll weave a tale that matches it. His stories are each more wild than the other and he sometimes utters words you’ve never heard a four year old use.

But you surmise it is expected from the son of the president. When he isn’t with you, the little boy is often with his private tutor. Even at his tender age, the importance of manners and eloquence is impressed upon him.

Martius tugs at your skirt when you make your way to the door. You look down. His blue eyes are pleading. 

“You’re leaving again?”

You heave out a long exhale. The little boy wasn’t so clingy before but with your bond growing, he’s been expressing more sadness from watching you go at the end of every day. 

You hunker down to his level.

“My little brother’s expecting me.”

His forehead puckers. “Stay…”

“I told you before, Martius. I have a brother. He’ll miss me if I’m not here.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, giving a begrudging nod. Tears already swim in his eyes though. Panic flows through you. You didn’t want to upset him. You pick him up and bounce with him in your arms to try to soothe him.

“Oh, no. Don’t cry, sweetie.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nearly squeezing you to death when he wraps his arms around your neck. His loud, tearful sobs swell in the room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow like always, okay? So I need you to be brave for me.” His grip on you loosens as he sniffles. You put him down and the two of you pinky promise that you’ll return. Your heart twists at the sight of his tear-stained little face. 

You give his hair one last affectionate pat before rushing outside. If you stay, he might throw another tantrum. No matter what, you can never get mad at Martius. He’s just a child. In the absence of his mother, he’s bound to grow attached to any woman filling a role adjacent to hers. You loathe that you’re taking those moments from the first lady. Though it pleases you to have a steady job and spend time with the sweet boy, it feels wrong that she isn’t there. She should get to see her baby grow up. She should hear his inane ramblings and eccentric stories.

As time wears on, you’re dying to meet her and tell her about Martius. Is she truly so sick that she can’t even see him for a mere few minutes? You’re itching to break the rules and visit the west wing of the mansion. Sometimes you hear blood-curdling  screams and wailing coming from the dark halls but you never dared venture through them. You know that if you did, Pandora would crucify you.

Laertes’ well-being matters more than your curiosity.

Humming absently, you halt in your tracks in the middle of a hallway. Confusion has you blinking. A peculiar noise bounces faintly against the walls. Your gaze drifts sideways, where the noise seems to come from. You’re clocking out. Whatever’s going on in the house isn’t any of your business at this hour.

But what if someone needs help? What if it’s something bad? You’d feel awful if you learnt something happened the next day and you pretended to ignore it. So you gingerly approach the wall. Your fingers graze the tapestry covering it. 

Your eyes widen when the wall moves, a tiny crack forming in it.

Your eyes bulge. It’s an ajar door, you realize. A secret door one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t aware it was there. Light spills from the slight opening.

Confining your breath, you bend over the crack in the wall to get a glimpse of what’s behind it. 

The vision crowding your sight makes the blood in your veins freeze. 

President Snow rutting into a maid with his pants down to his ankles. His usually neat blonde locks are tousled, a few damp curls kissing his forehead. His massive cock glistens with the girl’s essence, disappearing into the girl’s spread lips over and over again. Her body is bent over the railing of the bed and her maid outfit is bunched around her hips, exposing her ass, the flesh trembling with each of the president’s harsh, pointed thrust.

Each time he snaps his hips he draws a broken moan from her. One of his hands is around the back of her throat while the other’s on the small of her back. He grunts low in his throat as she clenches around him, thrusting into her even faster than before. 

The obscene sound of their coupling rises, coalescing with the feral grunts spilling from the president’s mouth. In that moment, he’s not the poised gentleman you’re used to seeing, he is an animal in rut chasing his high.

A shocked exhale escapes your lips. Your hand flies to cover your mouth. President Snow’s head snaps up, his gaze landing straight on you.

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

You jump back from the door and push the secret door closed. You dart across the hallway, determined to find the exit as quickly as you can. You don’t glance back, your steps hasty and panicked. 

Pandora was right. It’s best not not to hear or see anything, to become a tomb in which secrets are buried.

You can only hope he didn’t recognize you through the tiny crack in the door. 

Though you’re shaken to your core, you continue your work as a nanny. You still need money. You may have set aside everything you made thus far, but it will only sustain you and your brother for a month or two. Besides, you’ve already handed in your resignation for your other jobs.  The positions have likely been filled. You can’t exactly show up out of the blue and ask for your former job back. 

No. So you convince yourself that it’s alright. You have a good thing going anyway. You’re making more than you hoped. The child is happy. You’re happy. All is well. Or it would be at least.

…If you could conjure the memory of President Snow railing into the maid far away from your mind. 

You want to forget it, bury the moment so deep in the abyss of your thoughts, it can never be unearthed.

But it isn’t so easy. Because every time your mind wanders even a little, you see him again. Skin glistening with sweat and blue eyes alight with lust. The image is tattooed into your brain. 

You wonder if the first lady knows. Perhaps it’s why she’s hiding away. The weight of her husband’s indiscretions may have grown too heavy to carry. It sours your heart. President Snow seemed so kind, good and noble. He was nice to you. You still have the breast pocket he gave you tucked away in a drawer. You loathe to think he’d do that to his wife. No woman deserves this.

You lift your head when your name is uttered. You get to your feet. Adrift in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Pandora was in the nursery. 

“Yes?”

“The president wants to see you in his office.”

Dread wrenches your gut. It’s exactly what you feared. Does he know? Did he see you? Your pulse picks up. What other reason would there be? He never summoned you before.

“Really, why?”

“He didn’t say, but I’m assuming it’s to congratulate you.”

Befuddlement wrinkles your forehead. “Congratulate me?”

Pandora heaves out a weary sigh. “Well, you’ve done much better than we thought,” she begrudgingly admits. “The young master smiles all the time.” She rolls her eyes. “Even if we must deal with his tantrums when you leave.”

A sliver of pride flutters through you with her admission. Pandora made her doubts about your capabilities plain and obvious from the beginning. It gladdens you that you may have changed her mind a little. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” She turns to him, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a small price to pay for his happiness.”

Your smile vanishes as she adds, “Now let me escort you to the president’s office. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you trail behind her. The entire trek to the president’s office, your stomach’s in knots. You keep wondering if it’s the day you’ll lose your job for being too nosy. You should have walked past the noise. You shouldn’t have peeked. 

You inhale a lungful of nerve as Pandora opens the door to his office and frees room for you to enter. Your clammy hands wrench in your lap. He’s sitting behind his desk. You stagger further inside the room as he motions for you to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. He looks the same as the first time you stumbled into him, disarmingly handsome in an impeccable shirt and pants that flatter his long legs.

A sharp contrast to the version of him that has plagued your thoughts lately. 

His sky gaze follows you as you take a trembling seat.

“Are you settling in well?” he asks.

“Hm, yes,” you stammer, anxiously twining your fingers. “It’s pretty much the perfect job. I get to be around a cute child all day.”

“I hear my son is very fond of you.”

You bashfully dip your head. “He’s very easy to like. He’s such a good boy, sweet, kind, and curious. You and your wife are raising him well, sir.”

He hums in thought. “I can’t take much credit for that. I’ve tried my best to carve out time for Martius…but work’s kept me busy. As for Livia...” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well she isn’t quite herself these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He places one hand under his chin, scrutinizing you. You try not to twitch beneath his stare, your insides tight with dread.

“Hm, it’s strange,” he states after a minute that goes by like an eternity.

Your head rises. “What’s strange?”

“A girl like you.” His lips drag upward. “Sweet, nurturing, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be married already?”

Your lips part in astonishment. This isn’t the line of questioning you expected. “I-I’m not.”

“No fiancé?”

“No, sir.”

“A lover then?”

Warmth rushes to your face.

“No…”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his cobalt orbs.

“You must pardon me for being so forward but I simply find it astonishing. No suitors? It’s hard to believe since you’re so lovely, sweetheart.” He tilts his head. You shift in discomfort, his attention making you feel see-through. “I mean, a husband would have made your life easier than it’s been thus far, wouldn’t he, dove?”

A long exhale flows from your lips. “I’ve had offers, after I graduated from the Academy. There was even this boy, he was so kind to me.” The memory draws a small smile from you. “He proposed. I’m sure he’d make a great husband, but…”

“But…”

Your mouth dries.

“I know it’s probably naive and unrealistic but I want to marry for love, that great, life-changing love, like in those romance novels my mom used to love, not money or status.”

His eyes twinkle. “Or financial stability?”

Shame gathers in your chest. You know it sounds silly when uttered aloud. 

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. It’s sweet that you still believe in love.” He appears lost in a faraway memory, his gaze hazing over with remembrance. “I used to believe in it too. I used to think, ‘Who needs wealth and success and power when love conquers all?’”

He chuckles but it’s bereft of amusement. 

“Really? What happened then?”

His gaze locks with yours. 

“I grew up.”

Confused, you frown. 

“But aren’t you and the first lady in love?”

Another laugh bursts from his chest.

“God, you’re sweet.” His tone lowers to a dulcet whisper. “It’s like none of the world’s ugliness has gotten to you yet.” He reveals matter-of-factly, “My wife and I hate each other.” His smile widens at your flabbergasted expression. “Always did. It’s best that way, more…efficient. Of course, there was a time, when we had…passion.” He licks his lips, something you can’t pinpoint flickering in his gaze. “But not anymore. She’s far too gone for that.”

He rises from his chair. You stiffen as he circles the desk, making slow steps towards you. 

“Which is why I must…satiate my needs wherever I can,” he mumbles, fingers lurking under your chin, forcing your eyes to fall upon him. “Do you understand my meaning, dove?”

“I…yes.”

Discomfort flares within you. Tension hangs in the air, so heavy it clogs your airways. 

He cocks his head, lips slanting crookedly.

“Do you really? With that innocent look in your eyes, it’s hard to tell.” His thumb sweeps over your shuddering bottom lip. “Men have needs. And am I not a man, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes you are, sir.”

He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “You saw everything that day, didn’t you?” Your heart stops.

Flames lick your face as you bow your head. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

His warm breath ghosts over your earshell.

“Liar,” he mumbles.

Your pulse quickens.

He leans back and nudges your chin upward.

“Since my wife fell sick, I’ve been very lonely. And sometimes…” He looms over you, crowding your space as you peer up at him, fingers squeezing the arms of the chair. “I need something soft and warm to forget that feeling.”

President Snow slowly falls to his knees in front of you. His fingers find your thigh, starting to creep under your skirt. A devilish glint sparkles in his cobalt gaze. He finds your center, pressing the sheer fabric into your folds. You gasp. He chuckles at your reaction. He starts teasing you through your panties, tracing your slit and dragging over your tender bud. Your breath hitches as the air around you grows hotter. You grow slick beneath his finger, your thighs shaking as tingles bloom on your flesh.

“Sir…” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

He pushes further inside you, adding another finger, and you unleash an audible breath. You try to close your thighs. He places his other hand on your knee to keep you open for him.

The air in your lungs grows thinner as he rubs your core through your soaked panties. The friction is a delicious torture. Pleasure pools in your belly causing your face to burn with shame. You’re getting embarrassingly wet with President Snow’s attention.

“I just want a little taste,” he murmurs, his deep timbre bleeding lust. “Just one time and it’ll never happen again,” he promises fervently as his lips graze your ankle. You find some relief when his fingers disappear from your drenched center. But your respite is ephemeral. He slips his hands under your ass and tugs at your panties.

Panic widens your eyes. Cheeks ablaze, you pull at the material between your legs with both hands. But he’s stronger than you and effortlessly drags the fabric along your legs. A wicked smile plays on his lips as tears glisten in your eyes. It’s soon down to your ankles. You squeal when the president yanks the panties off your foot, tossing them aside. Cool air sneaks beneath your skirt, swirling over your bare folds.

Hands over your knees to keep you spread, his wolfish gaze sweeps over your glossy folds. 

Your skin heats, embarrassment gathering in your chest. You’ve never been this vulnerable and exposed in front of anybody before.

“Please, President Snow, s-stop…” 

“But you’re dripping, sweetheart,” he states smugly, sinking a finger inside your weeping core, as if to make a point. Your breath hitches. He takes his finger out sluggishly. You clench when he grazes one of your sensitive spots. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he hums, obscenely licking your essence off his long digit.

Without a warning, he buries his head between your thighs. A sharp exhale leaps from your mouth. His cool tongue traces a wet trail over your folds. President Snow traces maddening patterns over your swollen bud causing your eyes to roll back.

You card your fingers through his silken platinum locks, hoping to push his head away. But the delightful sensations grow too overwhelming. You unravel beneath his sinful ministrations, your limbs twitching as the thread of your thoughts comes loose.

Your grip on his hair weakens. Your belly tightens, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

You jolt as his tongue flickers over your tender heap of nerves. 

“P-President…” 

He purrs against your folds and the vibrations rock through your core. You squirm in the chair. Your thighs quake. Your vision dims, your mind blank as waves of pleasure swaddle you in their tide. Protests scatter on your tongue, replaced by wanton whimpers and moans.

Electricity ripples through your spine as you cry out.

Bliss engulfs you and your legs turn liquid. Shame swirls in your gut as your juices coat his tongue. He drinks your nectar, elation rumbling in his chest. 

When he lifts his head, you hardly recognize him. The feral glow in his gaze chills your blood.

There is no time to collect yourself, realize what just occurred, as the blonde gathers your limp frame from the chair and places you on his desk. Documents and papers are flung to the ground as he grabs your thighs and presses his throbbing hard-on against your cunt. 

He hastily unbuttons his pants, freeing his hard length. He fists his cock and guides it through your wet entrance. Your back arches, the sudden intrusion robbing you of air. He reaches the hilt of you in a few seconds, giving you no time to accommodate his thick girth. You collapse over the desk, weak whimpers leaving you as your walls are stretched to their limit. He drags out of you, his pupils flaring as they trace the motion of his length in and out of you. Coriolanus leans over you. He snaps his pelvis into your hips, each of his thrusts tearing tearful moans from your throat.

When you turn your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks, he grabs your chin so you’re forced to meet his lustful stare. Bracing himself on the desk, he reaches between your bodies to pinch your swollen clit. He plucks at your soft bud until you shatter around him with a sob. His throat bobs, a look of sheer bliss flitting across his face when you clench around him.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you the minute I saw you,” he confesses, trailing soft pecks over your collarbone. A sinister chuckle peals from his lips. “The way you looked at me with those sweet, innocent eyes…it made me rock-hard.” He tilts your chin towards him, his thumb skimming over your parted lips.

Satisfaction glimmers in his eyes as they flick over your prone form.

“You should thank me. Those boys at the Academy wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you…” His cock twitches inside you. Sticky warmth spills from him, painting your walls and dripping past your hole. Drops of his seed leak onto the desk. A throaty sigh pours from President Snow’s throat as your cunt flutters around him.

His teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“...But I do.”

After what occurs in his office, you hope to avoid President Snow. Those hopes are swiftly dashed however. President Snow lied to you. It doesn’t happen once. In fact, you begin to lose count of the actual number.

Every time the president finds a little spare time, he summons you.

Sometimes you end up bent over the desk in his office as he pours the frustrations of the day into your warm hole. Sometimes he prefers you sprawled on your back in one of the multitude of luxurious beds in the mansion while he devours you as if you were his very last meal. And at times, he grows even more impatient and simply shoves you against a wall before ravaging you.

More than once, a maid or footman has walked in on the two of you, and you’ve had to swallow your shame and embarrassment.

As you’ve come to learn, the entire staff is aware of Coriolanus Snow’s insatiable appetite and none of them seems to care.

You feel sick, desperate, trapped in something twisted and awful you never signed up for.

But how does one say no to President Coriolanus Snow? The entire Capitol yields to his every whim. And you are the same. Here to bow and smile and lie back whenever he demands it.

You long to focus on your job, to care for Martius and nothing else. Whenever the boy looks up at you with those innocent blue eyes, eerily similar to his father’s, your stomach wrenches. You pray he never comes to learn what kind of man his father is. You wish he’d stay just as kind and sweet as he is now.

Those are the thoughts drifting through your mind as you watch Martius play with his toy trains. Your eyes wander towards the window. Outside, orange and purple hues are bleeding into the sky, the afternoon nearing its end. Your stomach coils. It’s during times like these that President Snow often seeks you out. You’ve tried to run away from him but it’s all a game to Coriolanus, and he always delights in chasing you through the hallways.

Your brows crumple as you note that Martius has stopped playing. He drops his toy and rushes to your side. Confounded by his behavior, you’re on the cusp of asking him what’s wrong…but your gaze follows what caught his attention on the other side of the room.

You fall silent, your eyes rounding in shock.

“Martius. Come here, my love,” says the blonde woman in a white robe and nightgown, her arms wide open.

Time stands still for a few seconds. It takes you a while to realize who stands before the door. She looks so different, more ghost than woman, her glassy blue eyes hollow and sunken. But her likeness is unmistakable. Even with her graying, limp tresses and ashen complexion, you recognize Livia Cardew. The president’s wife.

You bolt to your feet. Arms still open, Livia takes slow steps towards Martius.

“I’m your mom, sweetie. Don’t you remember me?”

The little boy’s fists clutch your skirt as he hides his face against your leg.

“You’re not my mom.”

A stricken look twists Livia’s features as she shrinks. As if her own son just drove a knife through her heart. Your chest twinges. While her abrupt appearance is a shock, you can’t imagine how she must feel. You place a hand on Martius’ back and try to nudge him forward.

“Martius. It’s the First Lady, your mother. Go on, hug her,” you urge softly.

He shakes his head, tears filling his eyes as he hides behind you even more.

You’re stunned. Has it truly been that long?

“Martius-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, Livia lunging at you, her eyes wild with fury.

“You! This is all your fault,” she hisses. She points at you and scoffs, “You’re his new whore, aren’t you?” Her mouth wobbles as she grips her head. “First you take my husband, now my son.”

Martius begins to sob. His loud cries overlap with his mother’s frantic yelling. You cover his eyes, tossing Livia an apologetic look.

“First Lady, I never meant-”

Before you can explain yourself, she grabs a nearby vase and smashes it. White roses scatter on the floor. Stomping all over the petals and broken glass, she collects one of the shards and races towards you. Terror numbs you. You freeze as Livia aims the shard at you, scarlet droplets dripping on her nightgown as she squeezes her fist around the glass.

Your eyes shut as you wait for the inevitable strike.

You shiver, waiting still.

But it doesn’t come.

“Livia, darling, that’s enough. It’s time for you to sleep and take your medicine.”

The familiar sound of Coriolanus’ voice causes your eyes to snap open. 

You watch him restrain a struggling Livia. She curses at him, fighting him with all her might. It’s a painful spectacle. 

“No, don’t touch me!” Other staff members rush into the room. It takes several people to hold Livia down, colorful expletives pouring from her mouth as she punches and kicks whoever comes close. “You’re killing me! You bastard! Give me my son back! Martius! Martius!”

The child trembles against your skirt, his tear-filled gaze stuck to the floor.

Eventually someone manages to stick a needle into Livia’s neck. She instantly goes limp, arm still reaching for her son in her last conscious second.

“Take her away,” Coriolanus instructs.

The first lady’s flaccid form is dragged out of the room. Still shaken by what you just witnessed, you don’t move a muscle. President Snow approaches you, worry swimming in his blue orbs. 

“Are you alright, dove?” He cups your cheeks, his brows crumpling as his gaze settles on your neck. “I’ll have Doctor Gaul look at you. She has an ointment for that.” He caresses your cheeks, smiling. You gape at him. How can he smile at a time like that? “It won’t even scar. I promise.”

You graze your neck. Your fingers come away bloody. Oh. Livia nicked you with the shard but you didn’t even feel it. Perhaps adrenaline numbed you to the pain.

“Dada,” Martius chimes, lifting his chubby arms.

Coriolanus’ face warms as he picks up his son. He tosses him in the air and catches him. Martius giggles through his tears.

“My sweet boy. That was very scary, wasn’t it?” he says, balancing his son on his hip. Martius nods and wipes his nose. Coriolanus flicks his cheek, beaming at him. “Don’t worry, son. The scary lady won’t bother you anymore in a few months.”

A wave of ice blows through your veins. You wonder why the president uttered those words with such certainty. Like a promise. Or a prophecy. Almost as if he knows exactly when the grim reaper will come knock on his wife’s door.

The next day, you hand over your resignation to Pandora. Her expression is skeptical as she gauges the manila folder you give her.

“This is for the president,” you announce.

She unleashes a deep exhale. “You should reconsider, sleep on it.”

You almost laugh. Sleep on it? You can hardly find rest, the picture of a disheveled Livia Cardew crying out for her son haunting your nights. Whatever befell upon the poor woman, you wouldn’t be surprised if her husband somehow had a hand in it. It broke your heart, seeing her like that, her own son unable to recognize her. You also despise the role Coriolanus forced you to play in erasing her memory.

All of it feels wrong. 

And most of all, you don’t want President Snow to use you to satisfy his lewd desires anymore. He took all your firsts, all the moments that should have been beautiful, and made them a nightmare you have to relive every time he touches you.

You respected him; you admired him. Now you can’t be in his presence without dread whispering through you. What will he make you do this time? How will he make you small and powerless again?

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. He can hire someone else to care for him.”

Pandora purses her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s really not that simple. The president has developed…a fondness for you.”

You bristle. “I have to go back home. Laertes is expecting me.”

“You won’t like what comes next, trust me.” Her gaze narrows. “No one leaves the president.”

Ignoring the shudder elicited by her daunting words, you pivot and make a beeline towards the exit. Pandora’s voice echoes down the hallways.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Depleted, you glumly make your way to the gates. You enter the car that takes you back home everyday. Your thoughts wander as the Snow’s house grows smaller through the car window. You were thrilled when you got this job. It felt like kismet after the year you and your brother had. A rainbow after the rain. A slice of hope.

How it all went to hell so quickly. You’re still reeling from it. You’ve no idea what you’ll do next. The only thing you know for certain is that you will not step foot into the Snows’ estate ever again.

The car suddenly halts. You bump your head into the passenger’s seat. Wincing, you grip the sides of your head. As you retrieve your senses, you look around. You stopped.

You toss a questioning look at the driver.

But before he can respond, the car door opens and you’re yanked outside. Two pairs of strong arms drag you away from the car.

You take in the blue uniforms of the men. Terror pulses through your blood.

Peacekeepers.

Noting the guns at their sides, you stop trying to resist. There’s no fighting against them, ever. They are the Capitol’s fist and carry the President’s will. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you likely never did. You slump in their grip, despair thrumming inside you.

They escort you to a black car with tinted windows. Your pulse soars. You’ve only ever seen one individual step out of this car.

The peacekeepers toss you inside and slam the door shut.

Your fearful gaze rises to him.

He casually sits in front of you, his eyes narrowed.

“You disappoint me, dove.” He lets out a weary sigh. “After everything I’ve done for you…you try to leave me. I thought you were smarter than that.”

You twine your hands, sputtering, “I-I’m not the right person for this job, sir.”

He slides his fingers under your chin, tilting it upward.

“Oh but you’re perfect. My son loves you. You’re sweet, dutiful and most importantly…” He smirks. “You are mine. Mine to hold, spoil and fuck whenever I please for however long I please.”

The prospect fills you with dread. He wants you to be his toy again, submissive, available whenever he pleases.

“Sir…”

His jaw ticks, his hold on your jaw tightening.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your brother could attend the University, free of charge? A bright young mind such as his, I believe he deserves it.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Instead of, let’s say…end up in a District, his name chosen as a tribute in the next Hunger Games.” Your heart sinks to your feet. “That’d be awful, wouldn’t it? So cruel…” he mumbles, stroking your trembling bottom lip.

“No, please,” you beseech, tears swelling in your eyes. Your brother’s all you have left in the world. Nothing can happen to him. 

Coriolanus fondles your cheek, the tender gesture a sharp contrast to the wicked words rolling off his tongue.

“It’s all up to you, then, dove. As long as you behave, I’ll give you the world. But if you act like a little brat again…” A threat lurks in his soft tone, a glint of madness swaying in his cobalt orbs. “I really don’t know what I might do.”

Chills dance over your spine.

“I promise to never do it again,” you blurt out.

He pulls out a square from his breast pocket. It’s identical to the one he used the first time.

But a lifetime seems to have passed since that moment, the world now so different from what you imagined, and the man before you…even more so.

“Good girl,” he lauds while swiping away your tears. 

He shoves the pocket square back in its place. Coriolanus then beams at you as he starts unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his pants.

“Now, I’ve had a long, exhausting day. So how about you get on your knees for me and make it better with that sweet mouth of yours, dove?”

[tsumtsumrry]

Film Bro

WC: 3.6k

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, sexual content (dry humping, somno (so dubcon just to be safe; please only read what you're comfortable with!!)

“And that’s why I fully believe that movies are better than books.” Harry finishes his lengthy tangent with a deep breath. He looks over at your bored face and a beat passes before you both burst into laughter at how he’s managed to turn such a frivolous topic into such a serious and longwinded rant. 

“You’re ridiculous and wrong.” You shoot back, offering him a close-lipped grin to soften the blow. 

You and Harry have always had differing opinions, but somehow, you’ve still managed to become really close friends. You’re always bickering and getting into little spats over stupid things, but you still love him. He makes you laugh and he makes you feel loved and warm, everything you’d want in a friend. And you know what they say, opposites do attract. 

His arm is slung around you, and both of you are sat down on his cozy couch as he tries to offer up a rebuttal to your rebuttal and all you do is roll your eyes and pretend to tune him out. 

“You’ve got to understand, love. With books, you read it, yeah? And if you’ve got no imagination, what does that do for you? With movies, you can see, feel, hear everything. It’s so much more immersive and touching when you can see everything happening right in front of you.” His arms leave your shoulder so he can use his hands to talk, animatedly explaining to you why he believes you’re so wrong. He looks at your face for a second, when your features start to soften he smirks and points at you excitedly, “See I’m converting you! And you know I’m right.” He leans back with a smug grin. 

You just shrug, “You can think whatever you want, film bro. But I know that books are the most immersive experience on earth. There is nothing like reading words on a page and feeling them hit you with every letter. The good part about books is that even if that author doesn’t completely spell it out for you, you can create a piece of that world yourself, something that’ll always be yours to have and to cherish. Nobody else’s.” 

He looks up to the ceiling in thought, twisting his lips like he’s considering it. You think you’ve got him until he suddenly perks up and opens his mouth to speak, “Ah, but like I said, the imagination thing. Can’t do any of that if I’ve got a shit imagination.” That smug smirk is back on his face and you roll your eyes. Guess he can win this round. You’re so incredibly tired from work anyway and you just shrug which causes him to let out a small sound of victory. 

“And I am right again…as always.” He flashes you his signature smirk and you grab a pillow from behind you and smack him hard with it. 

“Dickwad.” you murmur. 

“Hey!” he chokes out a laugh, grabbing the pillow from your hands and placing it behind him instead, “You’ve lost your privileges, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly because he knows you hate when he calls you that. 

He brings his hand out to motion to the TV in front of you and then swings his arm right back around your shoulder, “see. Look at this.” He instructs. You’ve almost forgotten a movie was playing with how into the debate you’ve gotten with him. The scene on the TV flashes in your eyes, a couple making out hungrily and desperately. 

The male actor is pawing at every piece of his co-star’s skin that he can find, and with every touch, her breath hitches and her leg hikes higher up on his waist. They kiss like this is the last time they’ll be able to. The soft moans and grunts coming from the scene make your pupils blow out and your chest tighten. Your thighs push together softly and you curse your body’s inability to stay in control. 

Harry raises his eyebrows and gives you a slow once over with an amused smirk on his lips, “a book ever make you feel like that? This fast?” You know he’s only teasing you, but you’re so immersed in the scene that you can’t even find it in you to care when you shake your head. 

“This is exactly what I mean. A book might describe a touch, but actually seeing it, seeing him touch her like that, seeing how she’s enjoying it, how she reacts to it, that’s just cinema. Can’t find that feeling anywhere else.”

His voice has lowered in volume and timbre to match the intimacy of the scene you’re both watching, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of how close he’s gotten to you and how ridiculously loud those moans are. And if you weren’t a little turned on and a lot confused, you would laugh at it. 

You become even more hyper-aware of his fingers on your shoulder, caressing softly, the slightest touch, and you have no idea why it’s making you feel hot. His calloused fingers somehow feel light and gentle as a feather when he traces his index finger on your shoulder. And he just keeps going. As if it’s nothing. As if it’s not driving you crazy. 

You wonder if he knows what he’s doing. You’ve always known Harry to be touchy, but right now? It feels different, or maybe you’re feeling different. You don’t know, but it’s currently driving you a little crazy. That imagination you were so keen on before is really coming back to bite you in the ass when you start imagining the female lead to be you and the male lead to be…Harry.  

And what even brought this on? He’s always been attractive, yes, but these thoughts racing through your head, that’s more than an acknowledgment of attractiveness. 

He says your name softly, looking down at you curiously. You look up at him and latch on to the concerned look in his eyes, “you’re so quiet. What’s the matter? Mad I won again?” You can’t even fight the smile that graces your face and he mirrors you with a smile of his own. 

“Haha.” you deadpan. “You literally wish.” A soft chuckle leaves him followed by a sigh. He knows you like the back of his hand. And he knows that you’re both kind of turned on and very exhausted, so he expertly takes control of the situation and pats your shoulder softly, “you sleeping over tonight?” 

You nod softly, and he grunts as he tries to maneuver you up off of the couch, “come on. That’s it.” You really play into the damsel in distress bit (like you always do when he offers to take you to bed) and you let him lead your tired body to his bedroom. 

He sets you down on his bed and snorts when you let your body flop onto the mattress. “I’m gonna have a shower. I know you’re gonna be passed out by the time I get back, so goodnight. Dream of really nice sex scenes. Like the one that’s got you so turned on right now—” He can barely finish his sentence before another pillow is being hurled at him. 

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry, Jesus. Gotta tie your hands together or something.” he speaks through a laugh. You just shoot him a bored look and he rolls his eyes and leans down to press a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

“Night, sweet girl.” 

You don’t even remember falling asleep, but you remember Harry getting into bed. The world-class cuddler’s arms were immediately wrapped around you after he got comfortable. 

You figure it’s been about two hours when you start to stir. That’s always been a thing with you, waking up in the middle of the night and falling right back asleep. Harry usually lulls you back to sleep with a gentle forehead kiss and a tighter cuddle. You sleep much better when you stay over at his place. All feels right in the world when you’re in Harry’s arms. Something about him makes anyone he touches immediately feel at home. You cuddle up closer to him innocently, and he mumbles out your name. 

You figure he must just be trying to coax you back to sleep, so you nod, barely awake, and drift back off into the comfortable safe haven that is sleeping next to a human angel. 

Harry, on the other hand, is also in heaven. Just a different kind. 

He’s fully immersed in a dream where you’re the object of all his desires, standing in front of him in a get-up that’s so sinful and alluring it’s got him begging for you to let him touch the masterpiece that is your body. 

You tease him and torture him until he can’t take it anymore, trailing your hands across his soft skin, kissing his neck and his jaw, leaving marks that he knows will give him flashbacks of how you ruined him when he sees them tomorrow. 

“God, please, sweet girl. Let me have you.” he’s begging. And Harry is definitely not one to beg, you’ve reduced him to a puddle of need, grasping at any part of you that he can get. 

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I did though, right?” You pout at him with faux sympathy dripping from your voice and expression like venom. He groans deeply again when you palm his clothed bulge, rubbing the slightest bit to where he gets stimulation, but not what he needs. 

His breath hitches as you press harder for a moment before letting off, and then bringing your hand back to his bulge. He chokes out a soft groan, willing himself to endure your cruel punishment so he can have what he craves so badly.

“I’ve been s’good for you, baby. Don’t fuckin’ deserve this,” he whines out his words, desperate to the point that he has no shame in losing himself for you, in you. “I’ll do anything for you, sweet girl. Please.” His heart pounds, his eyes frantically searching yours for any sign of mercy. 

His hips start to thrust up in tandem with your soft rubbing, frankly unable to control himself with how absolutely ruined you’ve got him. His voice starts to shatter when he speaks and his eyes squeeze shut when you swing your legs around his hips and sit comfortably on his lap. 

He looks up at you with that fucked out, ruined expression and you pout at him again, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging just the way that he likes. Your hips move slowly against him like you’re testing the waters, and he immediately copies your movements, taking anything he can get from you, whining deeply in the back of his throat. He knows he’s leaking in his boxers and it would take nothing for him to explode right now. 

You’re just so fucking sexy. Everything about you is like a tease to him. Your voice, your soft touch, that expression you make when you beat him in a debate, the expression you’re making right now as you take what’s rightfully yours. His cheeks flame a rosy pink as he looks up at you, his pupils blown and his cock throbbing with need.

His head rolls back as your hips start to meet faster, eyes heavy-lidded. He looks back up at you with a plead swimming in his irises, his hands balled into fists to avoid doing something he knows he shouldn’t. Your hips move faster and faster and faster….

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, his hips rutting needily, but slowly against your ass. His arms are still wrapped around you as he pulls you closer into him, his abs flexing as he uses your body to relieve the deep pressure in his gut. 

Small moans and whimpers leave his lips, occasionally your name. Both of you are still fast asleep as he works himself into an absolute frenzy, his face is buried in your neck, shaky puffs of breath hitting your skin. Images of him worshipping your body and the feeling of that delicious friction on his throbbing cock are all that his brain can register right now. 

The feeling of your soft cotton shorts and your supple ass consumes him as he trembles gently with every thrust, his cock sensitive from the slow teasing game his body is inflicting on him. What was once soft sighs, turn to slightly louder, more needy sounds. He mumbles and slurs out incoherent words through his bliss, probably some variation of what he’s saying to you in his dream.

It’s not even the movement that wakes you, it’s those sounds, those unabashed needy little noises that he’s making. Your eyes fly open and a small gasp rips through your throat and you register three things at once. 

Harry’s the one making those sounds. 

Harry’s arms are wrapped tightly around you as he rubs himself against your ass. 

And your thighs are sticky and warm with your arousal. 

Your first instinct is to freak out a little, considering you’ve just woken up to one of your closest friends getting themselves off on you. But then you turn your head around the slightest bit and you realize, he’s still asleep. 

The poor baby’s worked himself up somehow and doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, doesn’t realize how needy he is. His face wears a tortured expression, his eyebrows arched and pushed tightly together. The desperate soft sounds continue to leave his slightly parted lips and all you can think about in this moment is how much you want to kiss his lips, soft and bitten. 

Honestly, you’re at a loss of what to do in this situation. Do you wake him? Do you let him keep going until he ruins his pants? Do you just will yourself to go back to sleep and pretend this never happened? You know that last one’s definitely not going to work considering how ridiculously turned on you are. With every thrust against your ass, an onslaught of butterflies assault your stomach and you feel the pool in your underwear only getting wetter. 

You don’t want to stop him. 

“S..sweet girl.” He’s dreaming about you. Your entire body melts into a puddle when he mumbles out that petname that you pretend to hate.

Being the good friend you are, you figure you could at least help him along. 

Your arm manages to break free from his hold and you use it as leverage to get your body to turn around to face him, once he loses his friction, a deep sound of disappointed leaves him and his brows fall, a pout gracing his face. His hips move in frustration as he tries to gain back the friction and you can’t help but feel bad for him. 

“Harry.” you take ahold of his shoulder and shake him gently, “Harry.” 

His body twitches a little in response to you rousing him and you smile gently, “Harry.” 

His eyes flutter open and when he’s met with your eyes staring into his, for a moment he only looks disoriented, a little confused and grumpy that he’s being woken up. But then his eyes widen and you swear if it wasn’t so dark in his room you’d see every bit of pigment drain from his face. 

“Shit. Oh my god.” It doesn’t take him long to figure out why you’ve woken him up. He’s so hard, sensitive, and it feels like he could come at any moment. And you’re looking at him like that. 

“I’m so sorry. Holy shit I’m really really—I didn’t know what I was—” you don’t let him slur out anything else before you pull his lips into yours, kissing him with the same desperation that you can feel radiating off of his body. 

You pull away from his lips with a soft click and his expression when you’re eye to eye again is one you know you’re going to commit to memory. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon and stars. You can still see that subtle frustration in his eyes though, you know he’s fighting to keep his hips under control. You hike your leg up so it rests over his hip and inhale deeply once your crotches are pressed together, “keep going. It’s okay.” You reassure him. 

He stares at you for a moment as if he’s unsure, and you nod, scooting closer to him and encouraging him to put his hands back on you, “it’s okay, baby.” 

Your soothing, yet sensual whisper of that name is what breaks him. His hips roll one slow thrust against your core and his jaw falls open in a deep groan. Your breath hitches at the feeling, you didn’t realize how sensitive you were until you felt him move against you, and fuck, you’re really sensitive. 

His breathing gets heavier as he continues to fuck himself against your cunt, maintaining eye contact with you as he loses himself in the white hot pleasure that’s tormenting every part of his body. It feels so much deeper than normal, it feels like you’re everywhere all at once, and he’s not even inside you. You guys are merely dry humping on his bed but it somehow feels like the most intense thing that he’s ever experienced. 

He says your name and you hum to let him know you’re listening, “you feel so fucking good. How do you feel this good?” he sounds out of his mind with pleasure. You can’t even find the words to respond to him so you just nod quickly and lean into to capture his lips with yours again. He moans into the kiss and his hands shoot to your hips to urge you faster against him and pull you closer.  

It feels like he can’t get enough of you, like he can’t get close enough. His hands reach for every sliver of skin he can find, his lips attack your jaw and neck, leaving marks on you just like you did to him in his dream. Every kiss he leaves is frantic, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. Continuous praises leave his lips, like he has to show you how grateful he is. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Feel so soft.”

“So much fucking better than my dreams.”

“Fucking perfect.” 

“Can’t believe you’re this wet from me using you like that. Filthy fucking thing.” he’s losing his restraint and you can absolutely tell, the way he’s talking to you, looking at you, thrusting against you, he’s letting go in the best way. He’s just doing what he knows will feel best for the both of you. 

“Such a good girl. Taking me like this, fuck.” 

You whimper softly as the tip of his cock bumps against your sensitive mound through the confines of your clothes. Originally you just wanted to get him off, but you find yourself chasing that release to, and it’s building faster than you thought. He feels amazing. With every deep grind against your cunt he drives you further and further into a pleasure induced oblivion. You should be embarrassed at the sounds leaving you and how you’re already so close, but it just feels too damn good to care. 

“Harry…fuck.” you grip tightly onto his pajama shirt, grasping at whatever you can to ground yourself with the way you feel like you’re floating off the ground right now. 

“Love the way you say my fucking name.” the words fall out of his mouth in a desperate whine, his hips move faster and needier and he buries his face in your neck to cope with all the sensations. He lifts his head up the slightest bit so his mouth is positioned right next to your ear and a full body shiver wracks through your body when he speaks, “need you to come for me, sweet girl. Can you do that for me? Know you’re close.” 

“So close, baby please.” you babble out, your hips moving together in a frantic rhythm to reach your climax. He encourages you with desperate words that sound more like whimpers and uses his firm grip on your hips to drive you harder against him. 

It builds and builds until everything in you draws up taut like a bow, you shudder through the release and Harry can’t keep his eyes off of your expression as he gently pushes you through it. 

“Gonna make me make a mess in my fuckin’ pants, fuck.” You fight through the painful pleasure of overstimulation as he chases his release, focusing in on the way he almost looks pained as he works himself against you so desperately.

A rushed whisper of, “m’coming” leaves him before his thrusts grow sloppier and rougher. His mouth falls open as needy, filthy noises leave his lips. He practically sings your praises as he makes a mess on the both of you, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck to ground himself as he works through a powerful release. 

“Sweet girl.” he whispers after a moment of silence, bringing his face out of your neck to look at you. His hands come up to caress your cheek, blowing out a breath from his mouth like he’s in awe of you. 

“Hi.” you whisper back, “that was….” 

“Yeah.” he finishes. A small chuckle leaving his lips at how awkward you two are making this. 

You’re unsure what to say for a moment and you look away, but his fingers grab your chin, “don’t do that. I like looking at you.” 

You look away again in pure shyness and he laughs and forces your eye contact again, “don’t!” he speaks through his laugh. 

He leans down to kiss you and a pleased hum leaves both of your lips, he barely disconnects from you before he starts to speak, “you believe me now, right?” 

“What do you mean?” you whisper. 

“Movies are better than books.”

[training4theapocalypse]

Tiny Stitches (Adrian Chase x gn!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT, Graphic injury detail, Handjob

Summary: Your Halloween plans are cancelled last minute. You’re ready for a night alone eating Halloween candy until Vigilante comes to your door needing stitched up.

A/N: Based on this ask by @impossibleheartflower - thank you! No pronouns are used but the reader is wearing a slutty nurse outfit. It’s pretty nondescript (e.g. no specific mention of skirt or pants) so the slutty nurse outfit can be whatever you want it to be. Maybe the real slutty nurse outfit is the friends we made along the way.

Masterlist

Chapter text

You dip your hand in your bubble bath to test the temperature - it’s not exactly going to make up for the fact that your Halloween date flaked at the last second but you know you’ll feel better when you take off this ridiculous costume and sink into the bubbles.

You hear a distant knock from your front door and turn off the tap. 

It’s sort of late for trick-or-treaters. Right? Maybe your apartment is the last stop for the kids who live in your building. You don’t want to end up on a register somewhere so you pull on a robe over your sexy nurse costume.

“Coming!” You rush out of the bathroom to unchain your front door. 

You let out a gasp of shock when you open it. Thud. A man’s body falls backwards into your apartment.

“What the fuck?!” 

Is he… dead?

Dread fills you as your eyes ping over every part of his figure, looking for signs of life. But it’s hard to tell when he’s dressed in a black and teal Halloween costume with his face completely concealed by a mask. 

Almost completely. 

His eyes are just visible behind the red visor on his mask. He blinks up at you. He blinks. He’s alive. 

The man dressed up as the masked Vigilante of Evergreen groans. “It’s me... Sorry.”

That voice is familiar. “Who- ?”

Vigilante stares up at you standing over him. He knows he’s got more pressing matters to worry about than being offended that you don’t recognise his voice but he can’t help it. He’d know your voice anywhere. Hell, he even recognises the way your keys jingle in the hallway when you get home from work. 

“I’m your neighbour… from across the hall.” He clutches his side with one hand so he can rip off his mask with the other. 

Oh.

‘Hot guy’ is the stupid thought that pops into your head when you stare at his upside-down face lying across your doorway. You realise who he is now after all, under his Halloween costume, with his dark, curly hair and sharp jaw - all that’s missing is his glasses. You’re not even sure of his name - you’ve been so used to referring to him as ‘Hot Guy Across The Hall’ in your friends’ group chat for months that you’re more accustomed to calling him that in your head.

‘Hot Guy Across The Hall took a package in for me today.’

‘I bet you’d like to take a package from Hot Guy Across The Hall.’

You snap out of it when you see a trickle of blood drip onto your floor. You look at the gloved hand clutching his side - he’s holding a wound on his abdomen. A dark puddle of blood leaks through the fabric, staining the white parts of his gloves crimson. A new terror sets in as you realise he’s been attacked.

“Please, I need a nurse.”

“This…” You look down at your red and white polyester outfit and the plastic stethoscope around your neck that’s visible underneath your open robe. “This is a Halloween costume.”

“I know that. I’ve seen you in scrubs.”

“I’m a vet.”

“Uh, thank you for your service?”

“A veterinarian.” You stick your head out the door and look up and down the hallway, worried about anyone stumbling upon the bloody scene. “Get in here.” You slip off your robe so you can move freely, then bend down and drag Hot Guy Across The Hall by his underarms into your apartment, sliding him across your wooden floor and shutting the door behind him. Fuck, he's heavier than he looks.

Shit, what was his name?

“Aidan, right?”

“Close enough.” He groans, staring up at your ceiling. 

“Can you get up if I help you?” 

“Mhm,” he winces in affirmation and you bend down to put his arm around his shoulder. He inhales sharply, holding onto his side as you help him across your small apartment into your bedroom. You’re glad your apartment is clean. Not that you’d admit out loud that you’d tidied it specifically just in case your date had gone well tonight.

You help him onto your fresh bedspread. The blood is definitely going to stain your new sheets. Perfect.

“Okay, let’s see what we’re dealing with,” you say, tossing the plastic stethoscope aside and sitting beside him on the edge of the bed so you can assess the wound. “Wait, is your costume a onesie?”

“No,” he groans. “I just need to take off the belt-” He swears when he removes his hand from his side to unfasten his gunbelt. A jolt of adrenaline courses through you when you realise that attached to him are real guns.

“Okay, let me do that. You just keep applying pressure.” You firmly move his hands from his belt to his wound. The sound of metal on metal clicks in your silent bedroom when you gently unthread the belt from the loops. “There we go, you’re doing great,” you soothe as you place the belt and his gun on the floor and roll up the top half of his suit. Your fingers tremble slightly when you realise the fabric under them isn’t cheap polyester. It’s thick. Lined with what you expect is Kevlar. This is no bargain bin Halloween costume.

Oh shit.

There’s a long but shallow knife wound running down his ribs. It doesn’t look like there’s any damage to his vital organs. But it’s gruesome. “I’ll get my car keys - I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“Wait!” He tries to sit up but yelps in pain and lies back again.

“Please, I can’t go there… Too many questions.”

It confirms your suspicions. 

“You’re not dressed up for Halloween.” It’s not a question but you look up to see his response all the same. You’ve been so focused on his injury that you haven’t noticed the way his green eyes have been searching your face. He slowly shakes his head and looks at you beseechingly. Ugh. You can’t say no to those pretty eyes. It’s why you ended up becoming a vet - you just can’t resist the stupid, puppy-dog eyes. 

“I don’t have any anaesthetic. This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“Thanks.”

“Keep that sentiment in mind when you’re screaming in a second.”

You leave him and boil some water while you busy yourself finding your medical supplies and a bottle of vodka. You set up your things on the bedside table while you sit on a throw pillow on the floor next to the bed.

“God, this is always the worst bit.” He says, squinting at you dipping the gauze in the boiled water, getting ready to clean out the wound.

“Don’t you normally wear glasses?”

“They’re in my pocket.”

You reach into his pocket and carefully place them on his face. “Better?” He nods. “Or maybe you don’t wanna see this?” 

“Aren’t you gonna clean it out with vodka first?” He asks as your hand hovers over his wound, holding the gauze.

“Hell no - that’s only in the movies. Alcohol can damage your tissue. This is for us.” You open the bottle with one hand, take a quick swig and shudder before handing him the bottle.

“Shouldn’t you be sober for this?”

“Hey, the dogs never complain when I turn up to work drunk.”

“They don’t?”

Your face cracks into a smile as you take in the sincerity of his look. “A joke. I’m joking.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He takes a long gulp of vodka, screws up his face and passes it back to you.

You clean his wound and he clenches his fists, breathing heavily. 

“So, you said you’ve done this before?” You ask, trying to distract him.

“Yeah,” he says through gritted teeth.

You scan his toned lower abdomen and spot a gruesome-looking scar just under his navel. “Oof, I can tell. That looks like shit.”

“Hey-” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale when you give the wound one last wipe. 

You thread the sterilised needle. “You ready?”

“Wait.” He extends his arm towards the vodka and you pass it to him so he can take another drink. He shakes his head. “Ready.”

“I’ll be quick. I promise.”

He groans when the needle breaks his skin. “So, what’s your name? If it’s not Aidan.” If you keep him talking, you can take his mind off the pain. Keep him conscious.

“It’s Adrian.”

“How about that? I was close.”

“I know yours. I get your packages sometimes.” He says your full name and address as if reciting a poem.

“Well remembered,” you say, furrowing your brow in concentration as you make the next stitch. He grabs your shoulder instinctively.

“Sorry,” he whimpers.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good.”

His grip tightens at that.

“Anyway, how come you’re home more than me? You always get my packages. Doesn’t doing all this keep you busy?”

“I work nights. Mostly. Evenings too at my other job.”

“You’re a waiter, right? I’ve seen your uniform.”

“Busboy.”

“That’s cool,” you jabber on, focusing on keeping him distracted. “Must be a pretty convincing secret identity.”

“Right?!” He perks up at your compliment, extremely pleased that you think his secret identity is a good one. 

“Bussing tables in the evenings then committing murder at night?”

“It’s not murder.” He grimaces again. The grip on your shoulder is now vice-like. “It’s holding people accountable.”

“Sure, sure…” you say. You feel strangely calm. It’s as if the shy, awkward dude on your bed is just cosplaying as Vigilante. Even though you’re currently stitching up his fresh wound from whatever the fuck it is he’s been up to tonight.

“...You’re not gonna, like, tell anyone, right?” You feel his eyes studying your face as you continue stitching him up.

“That depends. What are you gonna do for me?”

For some reason, his cheeks turn crimson and he blinks rapidly behind his glasses.

“Uh, like what?” he blusters.

“Does your job have any perks?

“Uh… Do you need me to kill someone?”

“No!” And despite the absurdity of the question, you laugh. “I meant like free pink lemonade for life in exchange for stitching you up.”

“Ohhhh, right. I dunno. I might get asked a lot of questions if I give you free drinks.”

“More questions than you’d get at the hospital if I took you there instead?”

“Uh, no, probably not.” He chews his lower lip seriously and it makes you feel bad for teasing him in his sorry state. 

“I’m kidding, dude. My lips are sealed.”

The fact he’s Vigilante doesn’t scare you in the way you know it should. You know you should absolutely phone the police. But you kind of enjoy sharing this. A dirty little secret between the two of you. 

“Pink lemonade is overhyped,” he says after a few beats.

“Is is not! It’s like the best kind of lemonade.”

“It is - ow! Sorry! Okay, sorry for saying it’s overhyped! Pink lemonade is great. Jesus.”

“That wasn’t on purpose - sorry. It’s just the last stitch… Keep holding onto my shoulder if you want?” Before you even finish the suggestion, his blood-stained gloved grips onto your white nurse outfit. “You’re being so brave.” 

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers.

His whimper makes you feel flustered in a way you hadn’t expected. And you’re pretty sure it’s nothing to do with the task at hand.

You can’t think of a response to comfort him. Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired - usually, your patients are much fluffier. You stop short of calling him a good boy and patting his head

Finally, you tie off your last stitch and squeeze some antibacterial ointment onto the neat row of stitches. 

“Done. Now take a look at this.” With difficulty, he hoists himself into his elbows to look at his stomach. “Evenly spaced stitches, not too tight, yeah? Now look at these.” You point at the scar on his lower abdomen. “Tiny stitches. They’re too tight. And you shouldn’t make X’s when you sew yourself up. Not bad for a second try, though.”

“That was like the fifth time I’ve done it,” he pouts. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Look, you can feel how it’s gone all bumpy.” You trace your fingers along the scar, feeling the way the skin has healed unevenly under the trail of hair on his stomach. 

He flushes again as he looks down at you, your fingers brushing his abdomen.

“What?”

“Sorry.” He lies back again, determinedly looking at the ceiling.

“For what? Oh.” Your forearm brushes against something hard in his pants as you remove your hand from his stomach. “My bad.”

“It’s not - ” he winces, trying to sit up further but changes his mind mid-way through. “Fuck.”

“Does it hurt?”

“My… my boner?”

“No!” You crack up laughing again and he joins in uncertainly as if not sure why. “Your very recent knife wound?”

“Oh. Yeah. I mean - no.” His eyes linger on your body and you suddenly feel very aware of the fact that you’re kneeling at his side wearing not very much clothing. He swallows and looks away quickly. “Y’know, I should go. I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

You laugh like it’s nothing. That this whole situation is totally in your comfort zone.

“Don’t worry about it. I was supposed to be going to a Halloween party with a date but they bailed.”

“They bailed on you?”

“Eh, it happens.” You shrug. “They mighta had a better offer.”

“Than you?” He looks at you seriously and pushes his glasses higher up his nose. “No way. Not possible. You’re, like, a ten.”

You tilt your head and look at him carefully. He takes a sharp inhale of breath when you get up from the floor, sit on the bed next to him and place the back of your hand on his forehead.

“Wha - what are you doing?”

“You don’t seem to have a fever…” His eyebrows scrunch together as he gazes up at you through his wire-rimmed frames. “I just thought you might be hallucinating.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not hot.”

“You don’t have to compliment me just because I stitched you up.”

“Am not!” he protests like you’re teasing him. “I’d compliment you all the time if you didn’t run off every time I saw you.”

It’s your turn to protest. “I do not ‘run off’.”

Although it’s not strictly true. You sort of do. You just thought he hadn’t noticed.

“Uh, yeah!” he says. “When you picked up that package last week? It was kinda impressive how fast you sprinted across the hall.”

You feel heat rising in your neck as you remember it. He had answered the door wearing just a pair of grey sweatpants, grinning as you read the indiscreet label plastered on the front.

‘HOSPITAL HOTTIE - ADULT FANTASY LINGERIE’

You had stammered a quick thanks before fleeing back to your apartment where you shut the door behind you and leaned against it, eyes closed, not sure whether to text your friends immediately with this news or to strip off and take a cold shower. 

You look down at your almost bare legs and smooth out the front of your outfit, now wishing you hadn’t so hastily thrown off your bathrobe. It must look ridiculous.

“Y’know when I saw the label, I thought a lot about what was in that package.”

Your eyes dart up instinctively to see if he’s making fun of you. He’s smiling. But sincerely. It’s a cute smile. With dimples.

“You did?”

“Tch - Hell yeah I did. I sort of… I dunno. Fantasised about this, I guess.”

Your throat feels dry. “About this?”

“Yeah, I mean I thought I might have been dreaming when you actually opened the door like that.”

You look at him suspiciously. “Adrian… did you - did you get stabbed on purpose so I’d take care of you?”

“What? No! I never get stabbed.”

“Never?”

You touch the scar on his lower abdomen again and this time - intentionally - your forearm rests on his crotch. 

“Well, hardly ever.”

“You should let me stitch you up from now on,” you say, as your fingers dance down his stomach. “The next rare occasion you get stabbed.”

The heel of your hand barely grazes the tip of his hard cock through his pants. When his eyes lock onto yours, you know you’re not being slick. He swallows. You freeze. You’re worried you’ve overstepped.

You both stare at each other for a few seconds.

You realise you’ve been holding your breath. “What else was in your fantasy?” you whisper in an exhale.

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes like he’s throwing caution to the wind. “This.” His gloved hand clamps on top of yours faster than you’d have expected in his injured state and he firmly moves your hand over his cock.

Fuck it.

Your hands work urgently, unzipping the suit hugging his waistline and suddenly his warm cock is under your palm.

He suppresses a groan of pain and you look up in alarm, worried that you’ve hurt him somehow but you can see he’s trying to sit up.

“Lie back - you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“It’s - ow, fuck - it’s worth it if I can kiss you.”

You push his chest back gently so he’s lying on your pillows and kneel on the bed to kiss him. As soon as your lips meet his, he tries to lift himself up again, lurching himself deeper into your mouth. Your tongue slips into his mouth as you push, more firmly this time, onto his chest so he can’t sit up.

You lean your forehead against his and his glasses push into your brow. “Keep still. Nurse’s orders.”

“I thought you were a vet,” he says breathlessly.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

You lick your palm, wrap your hand around his cock and slide it along his shaft.

“Oh fuck... Fuck - you’re so hot. Where - where have you been all my life?”

His eyebrows knit together in a beautiful, pathetic sort of way that makes your lower tummy burn dangerously. 

“Across the hall in this slutty little outfit. Waiting to take care of you.”

“Holy fucking shit.” He tenses his thighs and jerks his hips up into your slick fist with a laboured groan.

“Don’t. Stay still,” you tell him sternly. For some reason your reprimand makes him clench his jaw.

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yeah? I bet you do. I bet you’ve been jerking off thinking about it.”

“Y- yeah,” he gasps. His cheeks are flushed pink. You don’t think it’s from embarrassment - you have a feeling he doesn’t embarrass easily so you press on.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve been - shit - I’ve been jerking off thinking about you.”

“Doing what?” Your hand picks up pace and he squirms underneath your touch.

“I told you. This.”

“Just this?”

“Fuck. No.”

“Tell me then,” you repeat.

“I wanted to - oh god - when you ran across the hall, I wanted to grab you.” His voice strains. “Pull down your scrubs and fuck you so hard you wouldn’t forget my name again.”

You feel yourself dissolving then and there. “Shit. I would have let you.”

“Ah - fuck,” he whispers as he throbs under your hand. “Let me. Please.”

“No.” You stay in your kneeling position on the bed - one hand bracing against his chest to prevent him from sitting up and the other pumping up and down his cock. “You’re hurt. Lemme take care of you.”

He whimpers and pushes his head back into your pillows. The muscles in his pale neck tighten as he swallows hard. You can’t resist leaning down and pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on the exposed sensitive flesh of his throat.

“Relax, Adrian,” you murmur, your mouth pressed against his skin. 

When his name leaves your lips, his groan vibrates in his throat against your mouth in response.

“Fuck - fuck - you feel so good.”

“You know where’d feel better, right?”

Adrian’s hips jerk up into your hand again. You don’t scold him this time - you let him squirm and work his hips in sync with your fist. He can handle it.

You kiss along his jawline and meet his lips again. 

“Cum for me and you can fuck me when you’re healed,” you whisper.

And quicker than you’d expected - he does.

A shaky gasp leaves his lips and without really realising you’re doing it, you pant with him, breathing each other’s air as spurts of warmth coat your fingers. Your hand flexes along his length as you milk every last rope of cum from him and he collapses back onto your fluffy, white pillows.

Grabbing tissues from your bedside table, he lets you clean him up without complaint as he breathes heavily, staring at your ceiling. 

“Better?” You give him a wry smile and he brings his gaze back to you.

“Yeah…” He looks down at his new stitches apprasingly. “I just wish I hadn’t been stabbed.”

“Yeah, well I’m kind of glad you were.”

He laughs so hard that he winces in pain and holds his side again. “Fuck. You’re kind of a freak, you know that, right?”

“Maybe I just like helping injured little things that give me puppy dog eyes.”

Adrian exhales a gentle laugh and fixes his glasses. 

“Did you mean what you said about stitching me up again?”

You meet his green eyes. “Did you mean what you said about fucking me so hard I’d never forget your name again?”

“Uh, yeah? Obviously.”

“Then sure.” You toss the used tissue into the trash can and kiss him again. “Fucking sounds good. Pink lemonade is overhyped, anyway.”

[vigilvntes]

Deadly Nightshade, Cherry Tree - Adrian Chase x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I've rewritten this like three times and im still not entirely happy with it, but i'm sick of seeing it in the drafts. i don't write angst a lot so i'm not very good at it unfortunately but we move! <3

Request: incredibly angsty fic where reader and Adrian have been together for a while and she finds out about his identity, freaks out and threatens to leave but he begs her to stay and says he cant live without her. she feels awful for making him cry so they have makeup sex and it ends with him saying he'll kill her if she pulls this shit again.

Warnings: Language, smut, angst, kinda dark!adrian but only hinted??

Word Count: 1.6k+

•••••••••••••

"P-please don't... Please don't touch me." You pleaded, dropping the mask to the ground as you stumbled backwards, your back eventually hitting the wall.

How could you have missed it? Were you truly that stupid? Or was Adrian just that good at lying the whole time? You weren't sure.

How could Adrian, your Adrian, gorgeous, lovely, clueless Adrian, be a cold blooded killer? How could he be the man wanted for multiple counts of murder that you had heard so much about on the news?

Vigilante.

That title repeated in your head as you scrambled to put the pieces together, staring at the red-visored mask on the ground.

Vigilante was Adrian.

Adrian was Vigilante.

Adrian tried to take a step towards you, but stopped when you flinched, breathing out your name.

"No. No. I don't... I can't... You're... This whole time." Your voice cracked, tears of anger and betrayal threatening to spill over at any moment. "You've been lying to me this whole time."

"I never wanted to lie to you, (Y/N). I-..I never wanted to keep this a secret for so long I was just... Afraid of how you'd react and afraid of someone finding out about you. I've crossed some bad people, and if..." He couldn't even bring himself to finish his sentence, the thought alone was too painful.

Living without you was truly a fate worse than death. Everyone in his life had left him, either by choice or through some unfortunate circumstances. You hadn't, though. Life with you, where you knew nothing about Vigilante, was perfect. He didn't mean to keep his secret from you for so long, but each time he got close to revealing everything, the crippling fear of losing you crept in and he backed out everytime.

"You murder people, Adrian! You're wanted for murder!" You yelled, a tear slipping down your cheek which you wipe away quickly with the sleeve of your shirt.

"They're bad people, (Y/N)! They're... They're criminals! I'm just... I'm doing what has to be done! Someone has to be out there doing what's right!" He argued.

Adrian was being sincere. He was telling the truth. He truly believed that he was doing what he did for the greater good. And that terrified you, to some extent. Sure, Adrian was quirky, and at times you noticed that his morals were a little skewed, but you never would have expect this turn of events. Not from the dorky, glasses-wearing busboy from Fennel Fields who captured your heart and never gave it back.

"Please listen to me, (Y/N)." He begged.

You shook your head, pressing your lips into a thin line. "No... I- I don't know if... I need some time to think." You breathed out.

Adrian's eyebrows furrowed, "Are you leaving me? Please don't say you're leaving me. Please, you can't-..."

"Yes! No! Fuck! I don't know!" You yelled, running your hands through your hair frantically.

You truly had no idea what you were going to do. You loved your boyfriend. Truly, deeply loved him. But would love be enough? Enoughh to forgive him for everything he'd done as Vigilante? Enough to forgive him for lying to you throughout the entirety of your relationship?

You weren't sure.

"I need to get out of here." You mumbled, pushing past him. However, you were stopped by the feeling of his warm hand taking your own, stopping you from going any further and making your heart skip a beat.

Of course, if you wanted to, you could have pushed him away. You could have made him let go of your hand. If you really wanted him to. You weren't so sure that you wanted that, though.

You knew if you so much as glanced at him, you would be done for. You took the plunge.

He broke down as soon as you met his gaze, falling to his knees. Vicious sobs filled the quiet room. "P-please don't leave me. Don't go. Don't leave me all alone. I love you. I love you so much. I need you. More than anything. Y-you can't go..." He stuttered out, each word more frantic than the last.

He looked so broken.

Adrian hadn't felt pain like this in a long time. The kind of pain that made his heart physically hurt. He was Vigilante for a long time before he met you, and he had never felt any sort of guilt or remorse for what he did when he wore the suit. However, seeing how afraid you looked when all had been revealed made him feel physically sick.

"I-I'll change. I promise I'll change. Whatever you want. Just... please. I love you. I need you. I cant live without you." He looked up at you, his red, puffy eyes pleading with you.

He was quite literally begging on his knees for you, and you hated yourself for what you were about to do.

You took a step towards him, reaching your hand out to brush against his cheek gently. Adrian leaned into your touch instinctively, bringing his hand up and placing it over yours.

"Adrian, I... I'm not leaving. W-we can talk things out. I'm not going anywhere." You whispered, all the while cursing yourself internally for allowing yourself to let him back in just like that.

He truly had you wrapped around his finger.

"You're not...?" He asked, gazing up at you, his lips agape. Tears slipped down his cheeks again upon the revelation that you weren't going anywhere. That you were going to hear him out.

"No. I'm not."

Adrian stood up shakily, looking down at you when he stood to full height, his breathing laboured. His cheeks stained from the tears he had cried just moments ago, which you reached up to wipe with the sleeves of your shirt.

"Can... Can I kiss you?" He asked.

"Yeah. You can kiss me." You agreed. Truthfully, you needed to be reminded of the Adrian you knew and loved. You needed him to kiss you and take you and remind you that he was soft and sweet and gentle and caring. You needed to be reminded of the good in him.

He leant down, pressing his lips against yours, slowly at first but soon enough it turned feverish and desperate.

You kissed him with the same fervour, your hand slipping up into his hair. With each slip of his tongue inside of your mouth, each nibble on your bottom lip, you felt the anger and betrayal slowly slip away. Sure, there were conversations to be had, but they could wait. All you wanted now was to feel him, be consumed by him.

Before you knew it, you had your back against the wall once again, Adrian's lips on your neck whilst you fumbled with the buckle of his belt. He sucked and bit gently on the soft skin of your neck, which you knew would leave marks. You didn't care, though. Adrian was always the possessive type. He liked you and everyone else to know that you were his.

It didn't take long for the both of you to get out of your clothes, and soon enough you had your legs wrapped around his waist and his cock inside of you, pounding into you mercilessly.

He pressed his forehead against his as he fucked you silly, mumbling under his breath that you were his good girl, that you were being so good for him.

Your mouth was agape, but you physically couldn't muster any sound, your whole mind and body consumed by his cock and the brutal pace at which he took you as his up against the wall.

"I love you... So fucking much." He whispered, pushing any loose strands of hair from your face.

You managed to let out a fractured 'i love you too', but it was almost completely unintelligible. He was fucking you so good and so right and all you could think about was how badly you wanted him to push you over the edge on his cock.

You moved your hand to your clit, but Adrian swatted it away almost immediately, opting to use his own hand instead. He rubbed small circles on your clit with his thumb, knowing exactly where to touch you and the right amount of pressure to apply.

You felt your orgasm building fast. The feeling of his cock drilling into you combined with his hand on your clit was enough to send you into overdrive, and soon you were cumming on his cock, loud moans escaping from your throat.

Your orgasm was enough to bring about his own. He groaned loudly, burying his head in your neck. You heard him whisper 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you' and 'please don't ever leave me' against your sweaty skin, cock twitching and pulsing as he emptied himself inside of you.

You held the back of his head in your hand, gently scratching at his scalp, keeping him pressed against your neck as the two of you came down from your highs, his cock still inside of you, cum dripping down your thighs.

The room was comfortably silent, allowing the two of you to bask in the afterglow of your highs for a few minutes. It gave you a moment to think about the situation. You didn't want to leave Adrian. Hell, that was the last thing you ever wanted. You were in love with him. Vigilante was just an extension of Adrian, a part of him. You figured that maybe you could learn to love that part of him too.

Adrian was the first to break the silence.

"(Y/N)?" He mumbled, nuzzling your neck.

"Yeah, baby?" You responded, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You're mine. I love you." A pause. "And I'll kill you if you pull this shit again."

Your eyes widened and your blood ran cold. You couldn't see his face, and his voice gave nothing away. You hoped he was joking, but knowing what you knew now... you couldn't be so sure.

"O-okay." You replied shakily, shivering when he left a gentle kiss against your throat.

[training4theapocalypse]

And they call me crazy (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Non-con elements - reader is drunk and a (very eager to fuck) hostage, Light bondage, Oral, P in V, Unprotected sex, Edging, Canon typical mentions of murder and violence

Summary: You're a new intern at Senator Goff's office. It's going great... that is until Vigilante abducts you after you've been out drinking, celebrating the end of your first week. (Based on this ask from anon.)

A/N: I'm fucking impatient as usual and I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this. I've added non-con to the warnings but honestly, reader is so desperate to fuck him she DOESN'T GIVE AF if it's morally questionable that she's a hostage.

Masterlist

Join my tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982, @pretendfan, @lolitstiana, @chiaraanatra

Chapter text:

Your gasp is stifled when a black glove covers your mouth and an arm wraps tight around your body. You stumble on the sidewalk, teetering back in your high heels into your assailant’s body but he holds you firmly upright.

“Don’t scream,” says a man’s muffled whisper in your ear.

Your whole body freezes up. God, you wish you were more sober. Why did you insist on walking home after those celebratory drinks? This is not the perfect ending to the first week of your internship that you’d envisioned. Is this why Senator Goff didn’t turn up for work today? They said he was sick.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you keep quiet and get in the car.”

It’s a man’s voice. Not one you recognise. But you can barely hear it anyway over how loudly your heart is beating in your chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, it seems to say, battering frantically against your rib cage.

“Nod if you understand me.”

You jerk your head forward - his tight grip doesn’t make the movement easy. 

God, why didn’t you listen to your Mom? She told you earlier to get a cab home and stay safe, you’d just dismissed her advice as usual because you knew best.

He removes his hand and pushes you into the open passenger door of a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. It all happens so fast that you don’t even think to check out the license plate. 

Shit.

The man shuts the passenger door after you and hops into the driver’s seat on the other side. 

It’s him. 

You’ve seen his masked face on the news, wanted for carrying out his own brand of retributive justice on criminals across Evergreen. You heard people talking about his latest crimes at work today. Hell, you’ve even made stupid memes about having a crush on him in your girlfriend’s group chat. 

It’s Vigilante.

You were ready to beg for your life a second ago. But now all you can do is stare. At the forefront of your admittedly inebriated mind is the fact that you’ve fantasised about the masked Vigilante of Evergreen before. But in your fantasies, you’d always been someone that he’d saved from a robbery gone wrong or some other sticky situation. Not his abductee.

And this is no fantasy. He’s here - he’s real. So intimidatingly tangible and human. You can hear his breathing through his mask, see his eyes darting around your dark surroundings checking for passersby, and you can even smell the sharp, fresh scent of his cologne when he gets close to you, reaching behind you to grab a length of rope from the back seat. 

“Put your hands out.” You swallow thickly, looking at his masked face. There’s no point in arguing. “If you make any indication to anyone we pass that you’re you’re here against your will, I will kill you.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you think I’ve done but I-”

“Hey - don’t make me gag you and put you in the trunk,” he says, finishing the knot around your wrists as your stomach does a little flip. Not out of fear. Something else. He turns his keys and starts the ignition. “Oooh, seatbelt! Sorry.”

You breathe in as he reaches across you to grab your seatbelt and clip you in. Your hands sit uncomfortably on your lap as the car drives out of the dark street and onto the main road.

He pulls out his cell phone as he drives to wherever you’re going and you hear the other end of the phone ringing in the silent car.

“What is it?” You strain your ears, listening as a woman answers aggressively.

“I’ve got Goff’s assistant. I’m on my way to the video store.”

Goff’s assistant? That’s a stretch. You’re an intern. And not even Goff’s intern. You’re his assistant’s intern.

“I’m not-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Quiet!”

“What?!” says the woman on the phone.

“Sorry, Harcourt. Not you.”

“No, I mean you did what?! Vigilante, you need to run this shit by me. You can’t bring her here.”

“I did you a favour! We’re way ahead of schedule now.”

You hear the unidentified woman grumble. “We’ve got Judomaster here, dumbass. Take her someplace else.”

Goff’s funny little bodyguard. Now you know that Vigilante and the woman on the phone are responsible for Goff’s absence. Shit, what’s he going to do when he realises you know nothing?

“Where am I supposed to take her?”

“That’s what happens when you go rogue, idiot. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. She’s your problem tonight.”

You hear the line beeping as the woman hangs up.

“Fuck!” says Vigilante and he does a U-turn. “Hey, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna have to take you to my place. I said close your eyes or-”

“Yeah, you’ll kill me. I got it,” you say resignedly. You close your eyes feeling the car turn left, straight for a while, right, left… you lose track. You have no idea where you are or how long it takes you to get there when finally you arrive at your destination.

You hear him get out of the car and still not daring to open your eyes, you feel the cool night air when the passenger door opens.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Nope.”

You feel him reach over you to unclip your seatbelt and he hoists you out of the car by your upper arm. He roughly steers you across what you guess is a parking lot by the way your high heels click on the asphalt.

His vice-like grip on your arm still doesn’t relent, even when you reach the stairs.

“Not so fast - I can’t see!” And you’re still kind of drunk.

“Shh! Not here,” he whispers urgently. But his hold on you becomes more gentle as he helps you up the stairs, more slowly now. A sliver of empathy. 

The sound of keys jingle as he unlocks a door and guides you inside. You hear him locking and bolting the door behind you. Great. 

“Can I-”

“Yeah, you can open ‘em.”

You open your eyes. The small apartment is sparsely furnished, obviously decorated by a single man. No artwork on his walls, a small dining table, a clean but worn leather couch without even so much as a throw pillow.

The screech of wood on laminate makes your arm hair stand up as he pulls over a hard wooden chair into the middle of the living room.

“Sit.”

You do as you’re told. He pulls another chair over and sits down opposite you, leaning back, with his arm resting on the back of the chair. Vigilante’s intimidating form relaxes casually in front of you. 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tells you.

“I - do what the easy way?” You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. What wouldn’t you want Vigilante to do you right now? Stop it, you scold yourself. 

“You’ve got information and I need it.”

“I really don’t have any sort of information.” 

He edges his seat closer to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. Fuck. “Hey, I get it. I was tortured for intel a few days ago and I didn’t crack either-”

“Torture?!” You panic now. “Look, I’m not lying - I’m not Goff’s assistant! If I knew anything I’d tell you.”

His eyes narrow behind the mask. He pulls out his phone, looking through it for something. “Shit.” Vigilante looks from his phone to you. “This isn’t you.” He holds up the screen and shows you a blurry picture of your boss walking out of the office. Sure you look alike - you have the same hair colour and both wear suits to work but she’s significantly older. 

You shake your head. 

“What were you doing coming out of the senator’s office?” He accuses, as if it’s your fault he’s kidnapped you.

“I’m an intern. It’s my first week.”

“So you work there? Right?” he asks desperately.

“I just get coffee and take notes, dude.”

He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Oh man, Harcourt’s gonna freak out when I tell her I fucked up again. I can’t believe I picked up the wrong hostage.”

You sit, wrists still tied together in your lap staring at him. Now what? Maybe he’ll just drop you off outside the bar where the grabbed you.

“Look, we all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us. No harm done so-”

“Stop.” He looks up at you. “You know I can’t let you go.”

You take a deep breath and look at him silently for a few seconds. “So now what? Are you gonna kill me?”

“I-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Vigilante looks at his phone, apparently confused that it isn’t the source of the music. 

“It’s mine,” you sigh, embarrassed by your choice of ringtone. You try to pick your phone out of your suit pocket with tied wrists. 

“Your ringtone is Barbie Girl?” 

You nod.

He pauses, giving you an unreadable look from behind his mask before reaching into your suit pocket. “I can’t let you have this.” He declines the call. Your phone pings as a message arrives. “Someone called Melanie says ‘Your boyfriend is on the news again’,” he reads.

Fuck. Your best friend Melanie knows all about your stupid crush on the man sitting in front of you right now.

“Hey- don’t read my messages!”

“I need to know if your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear. She’s just making a stupid joke.” 

Your phone pings again. “She’s sent you a picture - what’s your passcode?”

“I said don’t read my messages. I’m not telling you my passcode.”

Vigilante sighs and turns your phone around to face you and your Face ID unlocks it. He freezes when he opens the image.

Oh, god.

He turns the phone back towards you again and you groan. Melanie has taken a picture of the news on her TV. Vigilante is on the screen. Shit. 

“I told you, it was just a stupid joke,” you mumble, feeling your face turning scarlet. 

“I didn’t realise you were a fan,” he says, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he has a stupid grin under his mask. 

“Well, I’m definitely not a fan right now.” You hold up your wrists. 

“She can see you’ve opened it. What should I say back?”

“Hmm... say LOL…” He starts typing. “Call the police. I’m being held hostage.”

He deletes what he just typed and gives you a stern look. “Fine, I’ll just go through your messages and see what you said before.”

“No, wait! I was kidding!” You try to snatch the phone from his hands but his reflexes are too quick for your tied hands. He doesn’t have to scroll very far back through your messages to find what he’s looking for.

Vigilante laughs and starts reading aloud. “OMG, he is so fine… I’m just gonna say that again.” He sends the message and you hear the notification of Melanie responding almost immediately. He reads it aloud. “She says ‘Knew you’d appreciate it - wink emoji’.”

“Can you just kill me already?” you ask sarcastically.

He puts your phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“So what am I doing here then?”

“Waiting. For now.” You stare at each other for a few seconds. It’s hard not to feel like you’re in immediate danger. “Do you want a beer?”

Perhaps your life isn’t in danger.

You blink at him incredulously. He walks over to the refrigerator and returns with two beers. He opens yours and hands it to you.

“Can you untie me so I can drink it?” You ask, testing the waters.

“Are you gonna try and attack me and escape?”

You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. There’s no way you’d be able to win in a physical altercation with him, not with his reputation for massacring criminal gangs.

“No.”

Vigilante looks you over, and you stare up at him, waiting for his assessment. “I could take you, anyway,” he says casually and puts down his beer on the coffee table so he can untie your wrists.

You feel yourself blushing again at his words. Vigilante could take you. He means in a fight. But your mind immediately thinks of him taking you in another way.

When he unties you, you rub your wrists, feeling the sweet relief of having them free again. Vigilante kicks back on the couch and gestures to the seat next to him. You move over and perch uncertainly on the cool leather. He lifts the bottle of beer, and then realising he’d need to remove his mask to drink it, puts it back down.

“You can take it off if you want,” you suggest. 

“And let you see my face? No way. I have a secret identity.”

“Well, I bet you’re handsome under there.” 

What are you doing? 

The sensible voice at the back of your mind supposes that flirting with him might convince him to free you. Another slightly louder, drunker voice in your head suggests that flirting with him might convince him to fuck you. 

He looks away, flustered. “I dunno about that...” 

“That’s why you wear that mask, right? You’re probably so good-looking you’d be easy to spot in a line-up.”

He lifts the edge of his mask - you think for a second he’s about to reveal who he is but instead, he takes a long drink of beer. You watch his sharp jaw and exposed neck as he swallows and get a brief glance at his wet lips before he pulls the fabric back down over his face again.

“That mask doesn’t do you any favours, hiding a jawline like that.”

“Stop it, okay. I know what you’re doing.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think because you’re pretty, you can seduce me into letting you go. It’s not gonna work.”

Pretty. 

You try not to smile, to keep your expression blank. You wish you could text Melanie - she’d lose her shit right now. But you’ve laid it on a bit too thick. Even though it is true - he does have a ridiculously nice lower half of his face.

“I’m just passing the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never been abducted before.” You shrug. “So what’s the plan? Stay here until your boss on the phone tells you to kill me in the morning?”

“She’s not my boss.”

“Sounds like she is.”

“I work alone. Mostly. Or with Peacemaker.”

“So let me go then. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just release a hostage.”

You think. Hard. “What if I could get you the information you need? Then I’m an accomplice. Not a hostage.”

“I thought you just got the coffee?”

“I know where my boss keeps her laptop. And her password.”

“What kind of boss tells a brand new intern her password?”

You purse your lips, wondering how much you can safely reveal to him. “She trusts me.” 

“The way you want me to trust you?”

“It’s different… I just don’t want her to get kidnapped too.”

He tilts his head. “That could work.” He hesitates. “But I’ll need to double-check with Harcourt in the morning.” He spins his bottle of beer in his hands.

“I’ll give you the laptop’s location and password if you let me see your face.”

“Uh, no. You’re giving me the location and password in exchange for letting you go.”

“This is a hostage negotiation, right?” You give him a coy smile. “Let the hostage do some negotiating.”

“No way.” He lifts the bottom of his mask up again to take another drink.

“What if I suck your dick, will you show me your face?”

Vigilante chokes on his beer.

“Jeez! I’ve already told you that you can stop coming onto me. I’ve agreed to ask Harcourt to let you go.”

“I know. I’m just shooting my shot,” you smile, resting the beer bottle on your bottom lip. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yeah, right.” He says though you can’t help but notice the way his visor-covered eyes linger on your lips.

“Dude, you saw my messages. I’ve always wanted to bump i​​nto Vigilante. Under different circumstances, obviously.”

This intrigues him. He turns in his seat, resting on the arm of the couch to face you. “Uh, what kind of circumstances?”

“Well, if you really want to know - they’re in my texts with Melanie.”

He looks at your phone again, opens your messages and starts scrolling up. His eyes widen as he pauses, reading. “Damn…”

“Which one are you reading?”

“There’s more than one?!” His voice is higher pitched this time and you grin. “Uh… ‘I wish we’d bumped into Vigilante when those guys were harassing us leaving the club last night. He would have kicked their asses and I would have-’... Holy shit.”

He adjusts himself in his seat and you can tell he’s hard just from reading your text exchange. You tilt your beer towards him encouragingly. “You can say it.”

“...‘I would have sucked the fucking soul from his body.’ Girls say this kind of shit to each other?”

You sip your drink and say nothing.

Vigilante looks at you like you’re a piece of cake he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about eating. “It would be morally wrong for me to sleep with a hostage.” He looks into your eyes.

You edge closer to him on the couch. “Accomplice, remember? I’m not a hostage if I work with you, right?”

“Listen, you are so hot. And if I met you in real life… fuck. It would be a different story.”

“This is real life.”

“You know what I mean.”

You get on your knees and crawl over to him between his legs. He shrinks back into the corner of the couch cushions. “C’mon. I won’t tell your boss.”

He swallows nervously. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no right now.”

You run your fingers over his belt. “Say you don’t want me to and I’ll stop.” Vigilante groans. You crawl forward again and press your forehead against his masked one, looking into his visor. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick,” you whisper.

“Fuck…” He breathes. “And they call me crazy.”

“Maybe you should be more careful who you let in your car.” 

His gloved hand grabs your wrist and for a second you think he’s going to make you stop but instead, he guides your hand onto the bulge through the fabric of his pants. Vigilante leans his head back, exposing a tiny glimpse of his neck between his mask and his suit. Your tongue finds the skin there, sliding across it and you feel him shiver underneath you.

It’s like he’s at your mercy now as you slowly, agonisingly slowly, undo his belt revealing the v-shape of his lower abdominal muscles covered in a smattering of brown hair. You slide your body down between his legs and kiss the trail of hair below his belly button while your hands work, unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down.

Vigilante’s cock slaps his stomach when you release it from his boxers. Shit, you have a lot to work with. You’re already wet between your legs just from your conversation but the sight of him sprawled out in front of you - his entire body concealed with the exception of his hard cock - sends blood rushing to your pussy.

You lick your lips and the moment your tongue slides across his head, you feel his whole body tremble. 

“Holy shit,” Vigilante whispers raggedly from behind his mask. He lifts his head to watch as his length disappears into your mouth, and you look up at him with wide eyes and hollow cheeks, sucking and running your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

He grunts as you pull back to run your tongue slowly around his head again. His reaction makes your pussy ache with longing, thinking about how he’d sound with his mask off, moaning like that in your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it. Thaat’s it,” he says through gritted teeth as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. He threads his gloved hands through your hair - you think he’s going to start fucking your throat but you’re surprised when he doesn’t apply any force, letting you maintain your pace. Vigilante watches you on all fours, your ass in the air behind you as your mouth makes the wettest, sloppiest sucking sounds he’s ever heard.

Then he sees it. A glimpse of your hand under your tailored work skirt, confirming to him again that this isn’t just a ploy for early release. You’re really fucking turned on by being here, sucking his cock.

“Wait…” he whines, tugging gently at the base of your scalp. You pull back, replacing your mouth with your other hand so you can look at him. “Can I fuck you?”

You pull away and bite your lip, still pumping your hand up and down the length of his cock.

“You said you’d show me your face.” Time for your one last bargaining chip.

“I…” He hesitates, propping himself up on his elbows. “I can’t,” he pleads.

“You’ll have to cum here on your stomach then,” you grin, your wet fist picking up pace as he tenses his thighs and tries to stop his hips from jerking up into you. “If you show me your face I’ll let you cum inside me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he groans. You stop jerking him off and watch him as he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside on the coffee table. He takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and puts them on.

You stare at him in shock. You were mostly just teasing him earlier- you hadn’t actually expected him to be this good-looking. Sure, you knew from him drinking his beer earlier that he had a nice jawline. But even in your fantasies, he was faceless - he never had gorgeous green eyes and tousled curly hair.

“You’re hot?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “What the fuck!?”

He smiles. And you can see it this time. It’s beautiful. He has dimples.

The intimidation you felt before when you first saw the masked killer in front of you is nothing compared to how you feel now. You practically melt, turning into putty. Feeling lightheaded you realise you’ve been holding your breath and begin making a conscious effort to breathe again. Seconds ago you were convinced he was at your mercy but now…

“Do whatever you want to me,” you say abruptly. Your underwear is flooded thinking that this man, this ridiculously beautiful killer wants to fuck you.

“Oh… I’m gonna.” He raises his eyebrows and lunges forward, pinning you to the couch and kissing your neck. His rough exterior armour digs into your chest. Your hands wander along his shoulders, trying to find the mechanism to unclip it. He feels your movements and pushes himself off of you so he can undo them himself.

You lie back, watching him remove his suit, revealing a host of white scars and purplish-yellow welts across his toned chest and abdomen. You undo the top two buttons of your blouse. 

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tossing his under armour onto the floor. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs the opening of your shirt and rips it open, sending buttons scattering across his floor. He pushes your bra up, not bothering to take it off to suck on your tits. 

You run your fingers through his curly hair, feeling him sloppily run his tongue over your nipple. His teeth clamp down on your breast - hard - and you squeal and yank his hair.

“Ow! Not so rough!” 

He just gives you a mischievous smirk and you release your grip when he sucks the spot gently, in a sort of silent apology. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise tomorrow - a secret souvenir of your night with the masked man from the news all your friends know you have a crush on.

But Christ, what have you let yourself in for?

Vigilante moves down your body, kissing your stomach and pulling off your skirt and underwear in a single movement, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. You gasp when his mouth returns to your body and a soft, wet heat envelopes your pussy. He drags his tongue slowly, carefully along your slit.

“Oh fuck…” you whine, arching your back. “Vigilante, I- wait, fuck, what do I call you?”

“Vigilante,” he says between achingly slow licks. Every nerve ending seems to light up, sending blissful signals to your brain.

“No, I - I mean what’s your name?”

“Vigilante.” 

God damn.

You look down and lock eyes with him, his pupils blown so wide his green eyes almost look black as he stares up at you, swirling his tongue in wide circles against your swollen clit. The entire lower half of your body tightens up and the walls of your pussy clench, desperate for something to squeeze around. His fingers, his cock - anything. 

You reach down to find his large, gloved hand and tug at the fabric, trying to pull it off him. 

He pulls his mouth back and removes his glove with his teeth.

“Is this what you want, baby?” He asks, running a single finger through your slick, wet folds and over your clit.

You nod.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Vigilante.” 

He sinks two fingers deep in your cunt. 

“Is this what you fantasise about?” His questioning makes you tighten around his fingers as he draws them in and out of you. Your breathing quickens in time with his fingers pressing against that sweet spot deep inside your pelvis.

He stops abruptly and the whine that escapes you is pathetic.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you moan. “Every night.” You wriggle, trying to fuck yourself on his stationary fingers.

“Finger fucking yourself like this?” He curls his fingers up into you again.

“Mhmm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes, fuck, just like… like this.” You bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing yourself in an obscene demonstration for him as he watches from his kneeling position, one hand between your thighs.

You’re close now, you can feel your orgasm burning up inside you as your cunt starts pulsing more consistently around his digits and your breathing gets heavier. Just as your release is about to crash over you, he withdraws his hand and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your clit.

“Wha-?” You pant dazedly. “I was just about to-”

“I know,” he smirks. “Not yet.”

Fuck. He’s fucking edging you.

His lips meet yours for the first time and you moan softly into his mouth. His tongue rolls against yours and you can still taste your sweet and salty juices on him.

Then, without warning, he flips you over and you gasp wordlessly face down on the leather couch in stunned silence. He pulls your hips back and up towards him.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you choke, lifting your head up and arching your back, your brain working hard to regain awareness of its surroundings. 

The weight of his body presses down on top of you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget my face in a line-up.”

Fuck.

He takes his cock and drags it over your soaking wet entrance, flushed and swollen for him and the broken sob that escapes you is desperate.

“Please,” you beg again. “Just let me cum.”

Vigilante sinks into you with a forceful jerk of his hips and your pussy seizes up tight around him as your face is forced onto the cold leather again. You try and push yourself up onto all fours.

“Nuh-uh, I like seeing you like this,” he says with another forceful thrust, knocking you off balance. “Hands behind your back.” You huff and do what he says, his still-gloved hand pinning your wrists behind you. “I shoulda just kept you tied up, huh?”

You can’t answer, you can’t move, you can’t do anything except just take him. Sparks of electricity reignite inside you, the deepest you’ve ever felt it as he pounds into you, hitting just that right spot again. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and when you see Vigilante biting his lip in concentration your walls start pulsing and squeezing around his cock.

“Not… yet.” He grunts. “Not ‘til I say.”

He pushes down on your wrists and it feels like all the air is being knocked from your lungs with every roll of his hips. 

“Fuck, you’re such a… pretty… little… hostage,” he groans through gritted teeth, each thrust punctuated by his praise. 

“Yes…” you whine because it’s all you can manage to say. It’s all you can think. That one singular confirmation repeating over and over again in your head - it’s all you want to be for him. Fuck, you’d happily spend the rest of your life locked in his apartment, letting him use you like this every time he came home after a night of murdering criminals.

Your eyes roll back in your head, fireworks rocketing and exploding into a million bright pieces. If there’s a heaven, it would look like this - a beaten-up leather couch in a shitty apartment in downtown Evergreen.

His other hand that’s free of his glove and not pinning you down reaches round and starts working your clit with rough, calloused fingertips. You squeeze your eyes shut, not realising they’ve been watering. Real tears leak from the corners, leaving your face a wet mess on the leather seat. You choke out a sob, not sure how much longer you can fight against your orgasm.

“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, baby. You can cum. Let it all out for me.”

And you do.

Everything goes dark and you’re lost in the pleasure that takes over your body, your climax wiping your mind blank of all thoughts except Vigilante. Your pussy clamps down hard like a vice around his cock as you squirm on his fingers. It’s only when you feel him shudder and collapse on top of you that you realise he’s come undone too.

You both lie there for a second, feeling the warmth of your combined mess leaking out and the sound of him panting, exhausted.

“Vigilante…” you say in a strained voice, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he exhales and takes another gulp of air.

“You’re crushing me.”

“Oh.” He hoists himself off of you. “Let me get you a towel.”

With difficulty, you sit back upright to wipe your eyes and fix your hair. Vigilante returns with a towel and you sit on it, grateful for the barrier between you and the wet, sticky couch cushion.

He throws himself back down beside you. “Whoo, I’m beat!” he says cheerfully. “What do you wanna do now?”

You look at him uncertainly and glance at your watch. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Right, cool. Do you wanna sleep on the couch or-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Who’s phoning you this late? 

He picks up both of your phones from the coffee table. “It’s mine,” he says and accepts the call. “Hello?”

Wait - his ringtone is Barbie Girl too?

“It’s me,” says the same voice of the woman who called him earlier. “Have you dealt with the hostage yet?”

Vigilante looks at you and hesitates. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s done.”

“So she accepted the bribe? You’ve got the laptop?”

His eyes widen. “The bribe? Oh! Yeah, sure! The bribe...”

“Vij, you didn’t kill her, did you?”

“What?” He lets out a maniacal laugh. “You’re crazy, Harcourt, of course I didn’t kill her. What’s the, uh, budget again?” He winks at you and makes an ‘ok’ sign with his thumb and forefinger. He’s insane, you think.

“I dunno, like five grand?”

“Phew! Then yes, it is all dealt with. Done and dusted. I will get that laptop.”

“You don’t have the laptop yet!? Vigilante, you need to get the laptop before you hand over the money, idiot.”

“Copy that,” he grins.

“Vigilante, what the f-”

He hangs up, cutting her off and tosses his phone aside.

“Good news. I can let you go once you give me the laptop.”

“And the five grand?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Wait, you heard that?!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well not until you give me the laptop.”

“I can get it tonight if you need it? We just need to swing by my boss’s house before you drop me off.”

He frowns. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. I need to… need to take you home.”

You tilt your head to one side and look at him fondly. You fix his messy curls and he closes his eyes at your touch. “Or… I could stay here tonight? Pick up the laptop tomorrow morning once you’ve fixed me some breakfast?”

He perks up. “I could do that! …You’re one hundred per cent sure you can get it though, right?”

You sigh and extend your hand. “Give me my phone.” He does and watches you go through your contacts.

The line rings and a familiar but slightly croaky voice answers.

“Honey, it’s one in the morning. Is everything alright? Did you get home okay?”

“Hey Mom, I’m fine. Listen, I think I forgot to send an email before I left the office and I can’t sleep worrying about it. Can I pick up your laptop first thing tomorrow?”

She yawns. “Sure thing. Don’t get stressed about it. Just go get some sleep.”

“Thanks, boss. I love you.”

“Goodnight sweetie. I love you too.”

You grin as Vigilante gapes at you.

“Goff’s assistant… she’s your-?”

“Yup. Now c’mon, show me where your bedroom is.” You stand up and reach your hands out, waiting for him to guide you. You step on one of your shirt buttons as he leads you towards the hallway. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”

“I just made you five grand. Use that to buy a new shirt,” he says, opening the bedroom door.

“Hey, what happened to the hostage negotiation? These are the terms of my release.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he smirks, shutting the door behind you.

[vigilvntes]

Blue - Adrian Chase x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: i don't really like this but im not exactly willing to rewrite 4k+ words so :) probably ooc and baaadly written smut but we move

Summary: Adrian turns up at your door one month after your breakup, ready to worm his way back into your heart.

Warnings: SMUT, language, descriptions of violence??? oral sex, vaginal sex.

Word Count: like 4k+ idk

•••••••••••••••••

You awoke with a start, your sleep being interrupted by the sound of your front door crashing against the wall. You scrambled to sit up, your hand fumbling to open the drawer of your nightstand while you tried to listen for any sign of what could possibly be going on outside of your bedroom door.

All the different possibilities flashed across your mind. This could be a robbery, or worse. Someone could literally be here to murder you and you wouldn't even know until it was happening.

That thought terrified you, but you were brave. You had to be, considering your ex-boyfriend's bad habit of getting himself into deep shit had lead to you being kidnapped, and sometimes tortured, on more than one occasion. He always came to your rescue eventually, but the experiences toughened you up, and if you were going to die, you were going to die fighting.

So, you grabbed your knife out of the nightstand and got out of bed, wearing only an oversized t-shirt and your panties, prepared to fight for your life if you had to.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the bedroom door open, holding your knife behind your back. You cursed the wooden floorboards, each step you took made audible by the soft padding of your bare feet against the hard, shiny floor.

Times like this you wished you would have gone for carpet.

Still, you continued, grimacing and cursing yourself at every creak or slight sound that came from you as you crept through your apartment, holding your breath. You had never been in a situation like this before. Sure, people had broken into your apartment, but it usually a quick affair, beginning with you screaming and a chloroform gag held to your lips until you eventually passed out. This was so different, and the idea that you truly had no idea what was going on beyond the sound of your front door against the wall terrified you more than if someone had just broken into your apartment right in front of your face.

You couldn't help but allow a small smile to creep on to your lips as you thought so casually about how you'd prefer to be kidnapped or murdered instead of thinking of ways to prevent it.

Focus, you thought to yourself. This wasn't a laughing matter. If anything bad happened to you, you had no guarantee that anyone would come after you now.

You came to the a stop. Just one more step around the corner and you would be able to see your front door from down the hallway. You decided that you would be sneaky. You would continue moving quietly and assess the situation before making any brash moves.

However, your body betrayed you immediately.

You let out a scream when turned the corner, seeing a figure stood in the doorway, their head pressed against the frame. You could make out the blood and bruises on their face thanks to the dim automatic light coming from the hallway.

Then, you dropped the knife and turned your living room light on. Fuck. You forgot he still had a key.

"Adrian?"

Your scream hadn't caught his attention, but his name on your lips had.

He scrambled to stand up straight, fixing the broken glasses on his face and pushing his hair back in a feeble attempt to appear presentable to you. Like his face wasn't covered in cuts and bruises and he wasn't bleeding from his nose.

He probably looked as awful as he felt.

"Fuck... M'sorry... M'sorry... M'so fucked..." He managed to get out, his words slurring as he leant his head back against the frame.

You rushed over to him, pulling him into your apartment by his arm. Shutting the door, you leant against it, rubbing your face with your palms.

When you had somewhat composed yourself, you glanced over at him. He just stood swaying in the middle of the room, avoiding your gaze.

This was the worst you had ever seen him. He looked so... fragile. Adrian was a strong guy, that much you knew, and he still looked strong as he stood before you, but you couldn't help but feel like if you reached out to touch him, he would crumble.

"What happened?" You asked, softly.

"Got into some trouble..." He answered, choosing to leave out the fact that he was also incredibly drunk, although he thought telling you that would be an insult to your intelligence. You knew Adrian like the back of your hand, and you knew drunk Adrian when you saw him.

You pushed back the urge to make a snide remark. To ask him if he dealt with official Vigilange business outside of the suit, now. If he didn't look so broken, maybe you would have.

"Okay... And what are you doing here?"

Truthfully, he had no idea. The last thing he remembered was being laid out in a dark alley by a few men he had started trouble with in the bar. They had knocked him down to the ground with no trouble, breaking his glasses in the process, and whilst he was down there they had kicked his already bruised ribs. Literally kicking a man while he was down.

But he only had himself to blame, really.

When you first left him, he took the break-up surprisingly well. Sure, he cried and begged you to stay, all the typical things one would expect someone to do after a dumping, but he felt... fine.

He went to work. He went about his business as Vigilante. Everything was normal. So he thought.

Then, one night, he got into a fight.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The man was probably around his height, the same build too, nothing Adrian hadn't dealt with before. He had caught him trying to break into someone's car, so naturally he decided that he would serve him some justice.

However, as Adrian fought, he realised that he wasn't as fast on his feet as he usually was. His movements felt... laggy. As if he was always one step behind his opponent. He was taking hits left, right and centre, trying desperately to get even one punch to connect. He soon found himself on his knees, his head being flung from side to side as he took punch after punch, and it was then that it occurred to him that he had stopped fighting back.

He had stopped pulling his punches.

The low had hit him just as hard as the high had left him, and soon he found himself stuck in a hole with seemingly no way out.

Every night he went out, either as Adrian or as Vigilante, and he got himself into situations he couldn't talk himself out of so easily. He would pretend to fight back, because truthfully he didn't care how fucked up he got before he returned to his cold, empty apartment, just to climb into the big, lonely bed (that he had bought so the two of you could stay over at his place) and lay there until a dreamless sleep took hold.

If it ever did.

Yeah, he was fucked up, and judging by the look on your face, you already knew that. He didn't need to tell you that the hurt ran deeper than the cuts and bruises on his face.

"Adrian." Your voice caught his attention again. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm just... I'm just here becasue I... I forgot something. I think I forgot a shirt. O-or a pair of socks. I just... I've forgotten something. I just... I can't remember what it is. I've forgot what I... forgot." He stuttered out, glancing away from you.

"It's been a month, Adrian." You reminded him, taking slow, gentle steps towards him. You knew a lie coming from lips when you heard one, and that was most certainly a lie.

"It has." He breathed out, his body filled with tension as you came into close proximity. Close enough to touch. He could reach out, take your hand in his, squeeze it gently the way he used to whenever he needed comfort after a long day at work, or a long night out on the streets.

Fuck, maybe he was just here becasue he enjoyed hurting himself? The pain of having you physically close yet emotionally so, so far away was crippling. Yet he couldn't bring himself to even suggest that he should leave, just in case you agreed and rejected him, kicking him out of your apartment and into the cold night once again.

"So why are you really here?" You asked, your voice now quieter as you stood just in front of him. Now that you were up close, you could see how truly terrible he looked. Behind all the blood and bruises, his eyes were lifeless, that usual spark in his green irises long gone, and his skin was paler than usual. You knew he hadn't been taking care of himself.

"I... Fuck, I don't know." Adrian whispered, squeezing his eyes shut in a weak attempt to hold back the tears that had brimmed.

He didn't want to cry. He wasn't going to cry.

All of his resolve melted away, though, when you reached up and took his broken glasses from his face. His sobs were vicious, cutting through the quiet of your apartment, and you couldn't help but flinch when you realised just how hurt he truly was.

Sighing quietly, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. You cradled his head in your hand as it rested in the crook of your neck, his hot tears wetting your skin.

The breakup had hit both of you hard. You hadn't even intended to break up with Adrian that night, but you were truly at your breaking point. You were sick of the danger, sick of constantly feeling like you were on edge at all hours. Adrian promised to protect you, and you had to admit that he eventually came through for you each and every time. But you were just so... tired.

You hated yourself for breaking up with him to begin with. Adrian had told you his secret just after you started dating, him not being able to hide something that had such an impact on his life away from you, and you had accepted who he was.

Sure, Vigilante was a killer, but when you were at home he was just Adrian. It became easy for you to forget what he did when he was behind the mask.

One night, though, he came home badly injured for the third time in a week, and that was enough to break you.

Some harsh words were exchanged on both parts. You told him you couldn't do it anymore. You couldn't lay in bed anxiously every night wondering if he was going to return to you, or if someone had killed him.

Adrian told you that everything he did was for the greater good, that he was doing it to protect you and everyone else from the scumbags out on the streets. That was his way of letting you know that he wasn't going to slow down.

So, after patching him up (because you were a kind person, and you didn't want him to bleed out on his own kitchen floor), you packed your bags and left.

You missed him, though. God, you missed him. And you were now realising just how much you had actually missed him as you stood in the middle of your apartment, your arms wrapped around each other.

And of course you still loved him.

That thought was enough to make you want to recoil away from him, to push him far away from you so there was no chance that you would ever be able to let him back in.

You couldn't bring yourself to do that to him, though. So you pulled away from him for a moment, only to take his head in your hands before he could even think about whining about the absence of your touch. The two of you gazed into each other's eyes for a few moments, before your eyes dropped to his nose, cheeks, lips. All the various blood splatters on his skin. "Let's go clean you up, okay?"

A nod was all you got in response, so you pulled away and padded into the kitchen, hearing Adrian shuffling in behind you.

He sat where he usually sat, in the middle seat at the island in your kitchen. You smiled at yourself, opening a cupboard and digging around for your small first aid kit. The scene was all too familiar.

Once you had ahold of the kit you sat down in the seat next to him, opening it and pulling out a few wipes, antibiotic cream and some surgical thread, just in case.

The two of you chatted quietly as you patched him up, wiping his cuts and cleaning all of the blood from his face. You asked him where he had been that night, why he hadn't been wearing the suit and who had done this to him. You were met with short, vague answers. Luckily, he wouldn't need any stitches, his wounds weren't as deep as you thought they were, which you were relieved to find out. You always hated having to stitch him up.

"I'm sorry." He whispered eventually, after a minute of uncomfortable silence befell the two of you.

You shrugged, "It's okay. I'd rather you come and let me help than have you wandering around this late."

"No." He breathed out. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Are you, though? You're still going out every night and getting yourself hurt. You still have no concern for your own safety, Adrian. Nothing's changed. Nothing will ever change."

"I have to-..."

You cut him off. "You don't have to do shit! I know you want to help people, and you want to keep pieces of shit off of the streets but at what cost? At what cost? Your own life?"

Adrian stared at you, his lips pressed together in a sad pout and his eyebrows raised at your sudden outburst.

"I fucking loved you! No, I love you! But all you do is fucking infuriate me. All this talk about the greater good and you don't even realise what's important. What's your greater good, huh, Adrian?" You were breathing heavily, your whole body shaking with anger. You didn't care, though. Letting everything out felt good.

"You are!"

"Really?" You scoffed.

"Really! (Y/N) I-... I love you." He pleaded.

You rolled your eyes, "I think you love being Vigilante more." You stood, ready to storm away from your problems, but Adrian grabbed your hand before you go anywhere and pulled you back into your seat, your back against the counter.

"No. Stay. Please." Adrian pleaded, standing up himself and moving between your legs. He reached a hand out, testing the waters with you. If you moved away, or protested, he would stop. However, you just stared up at him through your lashes, a scowl on that face of yours that he loved so much.

Slowly, he brushed your hair behind your ear, "I love you..." He put a single finger on your lip to shush your protests. "And I know that I fucked up, and I fucked up bad. And... I also know that I'm notoriously bad with words when it matters the most. So... let me show you. Please."

You tried to convince yourself to push him away, to tell him that it was the middle of the night and you were tired and you had to work the next morning but for some reason you couldn't even force those words to leave your lips. All you could do was nod your head, silently agreeing to let him have you, even if it was just for one night.

Adrian grinned at you in excitement dropping to his knees in front of you almost immediately. He wasted no time in running his hands up and down your thighs, "Oh fuck. Thank you. I've missed you so much. You have no idea..." He mumbled, leaning down to pepper kisses on your thighs, biting and sucking occasionally, leaving you whimpering where you sat.

It was like a switch had flipped inside of him. Just like that the quiet, sunken Adrian you had found in your doorway just half an hour ago was gone. All of the sadness in his eyes had been replaced by hope. Hope that you might forgive him, and you might take him back. If you didn't, it would kill him, but he would be grateful to you for agreeing to let him show you that loved you.

He made quick work of your panties, pulling them off and tossing them over his shoulder. "Legs on my shoulders, princess."

You did as you were told and hooked your legs over, yelping when he gripped your hips and pulled you forwards, half of your ass hanging off of the chair. However, falling from your seat was the least of your worries, because you could feel his hot breath on your cunt and it was driving you insane.

"I've missed this cunt... I've missed you. So much. Every night I went to bed thinking about you." And then, his tongue was pressed flat against your cunt, lapping slowly and relishing in your taste for just a moment.

You tasted divine. Adrian would never tire of the way you tasted, or the whimpers that fell from your lips whenever he used his mouth on you (which, honestly, was almost every night).

Your hips were the alter, and he was on his knees, worshipping.

It had been so long since you had been touched by anyone. So long since you had been touched by Adrian. You didn't want anyone else between your legs, anyone else to suck and circle their tongue around your clit the way Adrian did. It wouldn't feel right. He belonged to be there, eating you out greedily like he was the king and you were a banquet laid out just for him.

Your walls fluttered everytime his tongue brushed against your clit, loud moans escaping your lips, your hand moving to grip his hair, the other gripping the corner of the counter.

It was then that it occurred to you that his face between your legs was enough to make you question why you had ever left him in the first place. You loved him, and he loved you. He was so, so good to you. He treat you so, so well. And you had missed him so much. You didn't want to be away from him again.

He groaned against your cunt, and you knew that he would be rock hard already, ready to slide his cock inside of you as soon as he had made you cum on his face.

You could feel your orgasm building already. Adrian knew exactly how to work your body to his advantage, exactly how to get you off and have you a moaning mess in just a few minutes.

"Fuck..." He groaned against you, sending vibrations through your entire body. "I need you to cum."

Adrian knew you were close, your legs shaking, thighs clamping down around his head. He needed to push you over the edge, to prove to you that he loved you and he wanted you and he neeeded you. He payed special attention to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over it, the grip on your hips impossibly tight, keeping you in place as you bucked your up, trying to grind yourself against his tongue. You let out a gasp, tugging harder on his hair when he slipped a finger inside of you, fucking you slowly, your walls clenching down around him.

His thick finger inside of you, combined with the sensation of his tongue swirling greedily against your clit, was enough to send you falling over the edge.

The sounds escaping tour lips were downright sinful as you came against his mouth. Pants, moans and whimpers filled the quiet room, along with groans coming from Adrian as he lapped up everything you gave him.

You barely had five seconds to recover from your high before Adrian had pulled you up from your seat, bending you over the counter, murmuring, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Need to fuck you. Need to get inside of you."

"N-not here... Bedroom." You whined, panting as you listened to him fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans.

"Why not here, too? I won't last long. Please?" He begged. You looked back at him, seeing his eyes were wide and wild, dilated pupils looking at you greedy and desperate. You nodded, and he didn't need anymore encouragement.

Adrian pulled his jeans down just enough to free his cock and before you knew it he was inside of you, a low groan coming from the back of his throat at the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him.

"Oh, fuck... Oh, fuck, you feel so good." He moaned out, setting a brutal pace almost immediately. "Missed being inside of you so much... Just missed you... Thought about you every night. My princess. T-thought about you taking my cock so well..." If there was one thing Adrian Chase was during sex, it was talkative. He loved to mumble praises while he fucked into you, calling you his baby girl or his princess, telling you how well you were taking him, and all you could do was moan in reply.

One of his hands rested on your back, the other had your hip in a bruising grip as he drilled into you, gasping and groaning. "You're so good to me, princess... Treat me so well... M'never letting you go again. M'keeping you forever. Wait, is that good with you? Can I keep you forever? I mean-..."

"God, yes." You cried out, cutting him off before he could spiral.

"Fuck yeah, I'm keeping you forever." He breathed out, his thrusts soon becoming sloppy and his grip on your hip tightening. "Oh, fuck. You're too good to me... Gonna make me cum."

Soon enough, he doubled over, pressing his chest to your back as he came, a low groan escaping his throat and his face twisted in pleasure, his cock twitching as he emptied himself inside of you.

Both of you were panting, moaning messes. He moved your hair from your face, peppering kisses on your cheek, mumbling 'i love you's' against your skin, his cock still inside of you.

When he pulled out, he spun you towards him immediately, crashing his lips against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively, scratching lightly at the back of his neck.

God, you had missed the feeling of being in his arms.

The two of you had sex again that night. Sweet, gentle, loving sex in your dark bedroom on your comfortable bed. Adrian cradled your body to his the whole time, his hand between your legs, thumb circling your clit gently, working you towards another orgasm.

When he came inside you for the second time that night, he buried his head in your neck, whispering 'I love you' and 'thankyou' over and over again as he rode out his high.

Adrian cleaned you up shortly after, peppering kisses all over your body, particularly on your hips where his fingers had left bruises (he apologised multiple times too, although you told him over and over that you didn't care), and soon enough you were both settled in a comfortable silence, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you.

He broke the silence first, of course.

"Hey, I don't know if this is a bad time, but you definitely want me back, right? You don't have some secret boyfriend that you're hiding from me because you feel bad for me, right?"

"A secret boyfriend...? Who-... What?" You asked, glancing up at him with raised eyebrows. Anyone else, and you would think they were joking. But you knew Adrian, and you knew there was every possibility that he was genuinely worried about you having a secret boyfriend. That was just how his mind worked.

He shrugged, "I don't know. I was thinking, like, Batman, maybe? I bet he's a good looking guy underneath the mask. And I bet he's built, too. You're beautiful so I wouldn't be-"

"There's no secret boyfriend. No Batman. Only you, dumbass." You replied, snuggling your head against his chest again, a small smile on your lips.

"That's good to know."

You knew that if you were to continue your relationship with Adrian, you had a lot to talk about. But that could wait until the morning, you were too content in his arms to even think about the conversations to be had.

It had been a long month away from him, and you were just glad to be drifting off to sleep in the safety of his arms.

tags!

@bvcksmurdock @neptuneswritingwork @cressida-clearwood @withahappyrefrain @all-the-captains @lindenvale @tinalbion @ladamari68 @flower-slut00 @milfodyssey @madmax2191 @andromacher @myguiltypleasures21 @osnapitzandi @flutterskies @emmaflag17 @trash--blog @jlclvsjpm @papitas-con-sal @thedamchii @abbynx @skateb0red @fenderenderender @possessedxparrot

[nghtwngs]

i was made for lovin’ you

description: it’s hard to admit that you may like adrian a little more than you want to, but kissing him just comes so easy for you.

pairing: adrian chase x reader

genre: light angst, coworkers to lovers, pining

word count: 1.1k

warnings: swearing, morally good reader who can’t resist how pretty adrian is

i can’t believe how much i like this idiot. i blame freddie stroma for being so pretty to look at and for making me want to rewatch peacemaker

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me…” Adrian tells you, the words tumbling out of his mouth almost like he’s puking them out. His face then contorts into somewhat of a grimace as if he’s afraid that somebody could hear him spill his guts to you. The last bit is hurried; a panicked afterthought. “Don’t tell Chris I said that.”

You stare at him. “What?”

“Well, ‘cause like Chris is my best friend, y’know? And I wouldn’t want him to be jealous of you which is totally justified because oh my god, you’re amazing, and who wouldn’t be jealous of you? But don’t tell him I said that either. He might tell Eagly, and then I’ll have two friends that are upset with me.”

He’s not even looking at you anymore. You’re not sure if that’s on purpose, or if he’s just terribly nervous. It’s probably a bit of both.

Keep reading

[ririglow]

I Wanna Be Yours | Joe Burrow

pairings : joe burrow x reader

word count:16k+

genre : best friends to lovers

synopsis: joe has been keeping his distance from you , upon discovering why your friendship changes forever.

warnings: reader being totally oblivious, mentions of slight body dysmorphia, reader has 🧚🏽‍♀️beauty marks🧚🏽‍♀️, Joe being an asshole for like a second, best friends doing couple shit, smut, oral sex (fem receiving), overstimulation, a rushed ending (literally wrote it at 3am),

A/n: finally letting my baby I've been keeping since July 2022 out, it's been well, may you find success 😭 enjoy yall

From Joey:

Hey, I'm skipping out on movie night. Sorry.

You stare down at your phone with a frown, after re-reading the text for the third time. Making sure you were reading things clearly. Your gaze reflects an aggressive glare. Are you fucking kidding me? He's bailed out on you yet again, you wouldn't be so annoyed if this was his first time canceling. However, recently, Joe has been clearly avoiding you at whatever cost. He has become particularly standoffish with you lately, giving you nearly every excuse in the book when you offer to hang out. If it's not working out, it's a team meeting, and when that's not an option- he says he's "too tired". His excuses were aplenty.

Joe has many attributes, but being a good liar isn't one of them. You knew something is wrong. Feeling very offended, you eventually begged him to hang out with you one day. After all, it's been a while since you two actually spent some time together, a perfect opportunity. But as soon as he showed up at your condo, your plan backfires. The plan for the day you arranged turned into Joe purposely busying himself away from you like the goddamn plague. Giving you halfhearted responses, making sure his attention was everywhere but you the entire time he was there while giving you the cold shoulder, in spite of what? You have no clue. And that is what's been killing you, the reason you're being utterly disregarded is entirely baseless. 

That horrid hangout was last month, and since then you haven't seen and hardly talked to each other up till yesterday when you swallowed down the grudge you were planning on holding and invited him over for a movie night. Something you used to do frequently when you were kids.

Swallowing down the anger and hurt, a moment of worry comes through. If it was any other friend giving you nothing but a buoyancy of discourteousness you would've reciprocated the same energy. Without hesitation. However, this was no ordinary friend. This is your best friend, someone you have known ever since he was merely an awkward preteen that had an obsession with Nickelodeon and Disney. The first and only child you ever knew was when you first moved to Plains Ohio when you were just nine years old. It has always been you and him, the classic two peas in a pod. He saw you pass through every milestone, from having your first crush, to your first experience of heartbreak, and the first time you had fallen and broken a bone on your body at the local neighborhood playground which resulted in eleven-year-old Joe carrying you all the way home crying. 

Just as he was there for you, you were there for him. Throughout all high school, you've been to every single one of his games, basketball or football. When he suffered through his drought at Ohio State you were there giving him encouragement and support. And when the opportunity came for Joe to take his talent down to Louisiana at LSU, you were right there. As well as taking multiple trips to games to support him, as you juggle between school and extracurricular activities. His career progressed into the NFL, and you sat right beside him on his parent's couch cheering him on. You were always there.

Reading his text over yet again you type out a response. 

To: Joey

you've really been a terrible friend lately…if there's something wrong you can tell me 

You watched as the "delivered" text turned into "read at 8:30pm". It wasn't long before the three grey dots appeared showing you that he was typing out a response. Sitting up from your slouched position on the couch, your heart race increases as you imagine all the possible responses to his reasoning for being such a shitty friend. 

This better be a good fucking reason, you thought watching the gray dots appear and reappear again as if he was typing out a whole novel worth. You clicked your phone off and placed it beside you, not wanting to look at the screen any longer, hoping that it will somehow make his response come faster. You wish that he was face to face so you could take a read at his expression, maybe he'll feel guilty that he's treating you like this or angry as he expresses what you might've done to make him act this way.

Eventually, your phone buzzes, and a sigh leaves you as you muster up the courage to open the message. And when you do, your mouth slackens.

From Joey <3

K.

That's certainly not the response you were looking forward to, did he really just send you a one-word—not even a whole word—a one-letter text? Despite being absent in your presence it felt like he had landed the biggest slap on your face, followed by a simple "fuck you". The analogy was a bit drastic, sure but so was his response. It was deceptively simple, though it tells you a lot. 

Your finger itches to hit the call button and give him an earful of scornful remarks. But you decided against it, knowing it would only add insult to injury he's clearly got an issue with you, and instead of being the one who does the chasing, you're going to let him come to you.

"Fuck him." You grumbled, shutting off your phone and tossing it aside with a little more force than usual as if you were imagining it hitting his face. Letting out a pitiful huff you look at the variety of snacks you had gotten scattered on the coffee table, including your best friend's favorites. 

Without giving him another thought, you reluctantly grabbed the bowl of popcorn and turned on the TV. Your movements were sluggish and unintentionally nonchalant, the curiosity was still nagging in the back of your mind. 

What the hell did I do to him?

"I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong," Mrs. Burrow assures you, a ground rake in her hands as she smooths out the soil bed. You stood in the middle of the miniature garden surrounded by vigorous plants, fruits, and vegetables. After your somber movie night two days ago, your curiosity only grew about Joe's unorthodox behavior. Despite telling yourself you weren't going to go on a wild goose chase for him.

Truth be told, you had too much of an empathic nature about you to give him the cold shoulder right back. As much as you wanted to, that was simply not your character. 

You were his best friend, someone with whom he can tell everything whether it was good or bad. It felt very defective to brush him off aside not knowing if he was undergoing something that was truly difficult. To have a better insight along with some real needed advice, you decide to unleash your complications on Mrs. Burrow, his mom. Hoping to have a clear-cut understanding of what's been going on with her son.

"Has he contacted you since?" She adds, pausing a moment to stick the tool into the ground leaning against it, with one hand on her hip.

You bit your lip, looking off to the side. "He tried to,"

"What does that mean?" She furrowed her eyebrows curiously.

"He texted me yesterday morning and I left it on read." You said almost shamefully as you realize how immature it appears. But you honestly didn't care. If he was going to act petty with you for whatever reason, you were going to do the same with him. "It was only a Spongebob meme, but that's his way of trying to act like everything is okay." You were sure of it.

"You kids are truly something else, I don't like seeing you guys like this." Mrs. Burrow shook her head in disapproval.

"He's the one who started it!" You exclaim, feeling a sense of deja vu of the time when you and Joe were kids and would point the finger at each other about who broke her favorite vase. "Sorry, I'm probably putting you in a really awkward position right now."  You said sheepishly, making your way to the small two-person table and taking a seat with a sigh.

She followed suit taking a seat on the opposite side of you, the rake still in her hands. 

"Honey, you're fine. This is just all so unsuspected." She says.

And you could see why, you and Joe hardly ever had any problems, sure you guys would bicker about something every now and then. But it has never come down to this where one is being hostile towards the other, you could remember the times you were mad at him for no less than two days, let alone have the ability to be disdainful for weeks like he's been with you. 

That's what hurts the most, him allowing himself to be distant without a care in the world, acting as if though it doesn't affect him. Here you were mind going crazy about what he's possibly going through, yet it seems to be he doesn't give two-shits about how you're feeling and concerns right now.

"I don't know what to do," You said, sounding completely defeated, leaning your chin in your palm.

"Maybe you should go talk to him, face to face?" She suggests.

"Yeah, I guess that wouldn't be too terrible." You agreed reluctantly, that had been your next move even though a part of you wanted him to come to you instead.

"So," Mrs. Burrow said with a smile. "I hear you're dating someone."

You let your face light up in surprise at her abrupt mention of your dating life, automatically knowing who informed her. 

"His name is Malik." You told her though you're more for certain that she already knew that.

She let out a hum, before looking at you seriously. "Is he treating you right? I heard he's a bit of a playboy." 

You wanted to roll your eyes, of course, Joe ranted off his hatred for Malik, saying the same shit, yes Malik had his reputation as a playboy back in high school. However, years passed and a lot has changed so much that you didn't even recognize him when you ran into each other at the grocery store, the presumptuous and egoistic high school boy you once knew was now replaced with an amiable and responsible man. Yet you couldn't get Joe to see that, no matter how much you pleaded and begged for him to hear you out about Malik he simply wouldn't listen. 

You still remember the day you told him about the first date you were going on with Malik, angry was an understatement describing how Joe reacted.

Multiple curses fell from your lips, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror struggling to wrap your thick and luxuriant hair into a neat ponytail. Due to how voluminous your hair is, your hands were insignificant trying to grasp every single strand. This has been a complication with you for as long as you could remember, when your hair is not tamed you would always need a second pair of hands to assist. And those hands would always lead to,

"Joey!" You called out, letting your arms flop down to your sides in defeat. He was supposed to have a lunch date with his friends who were bringing their gfs/wives, not wanting to feel like the oddball he invited you to keep him company. You were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago, and you just knew if you kept taking a chance with your hair it would be hours.

Grasping your brush and two ecstatic hairbands, you left the bathroom.

"Yeah?" His voice sounded muffled coming from all the way downstairs.

You skipped down the stairs and made your way into the living room seeing him sitting on the edge of the sofa, legs spread, with his phone in hand, eyes focused on the screen. 

"Can you help?" You asked, holding up your hands which held the brush and hairband.

Almost immediately he pulls his attention away from his phone to look at you with a small smile. "Sure, c'mere."

Your heart skipped a beat at his attention towards you,  you made your way towards him without saying a word, you handed him the brush and hair band before plopping down on the floor in between his legs. His thick thighs caged you in, barley being covered due to the pink shorts he wore, you were so close to him the scent of his cologne filled your senses. 

This was a bad idea, you thought, feeling him carefully brush your hair. Relishing in his gentle touch, you had been in the position many times before with him helping you with your hair, why does it feel different now? The answer is,  In those times you didn't stupidly develop a crush on him. 

As much as you tried to ignore it, those thousands of butterflies swarming around inside you couldn't be stopped. Or the hopelessly long gazes you found yourself giving him when he wasn't looking. It was incredibly impossible not to fall for him. He's so sweet, considerate, understanding, yet so complex in many things as well as being extremely overprotective. But you didn't care, he wouldn't be Joe if he didn't have all those aspects about him.

A small sigh of content escapes you before you could stop it, due to how engrossed you were into thinking about the man that was generously helping out in doing your hair.

He paused and set the brush aside before grasping both of your cheeks, tilting your head back so you could look at him in an upside down Spiderman kiss way.

"You good?" He asks, his thumb rubbing by your hairline. 

A shiver went down your spine at the seemingly loving gesture. Sometimes you wonder if Joe ever felt an ounce of the same feelings you have for him. But then you remember Joe has always been affectionate and gentle towards you, it wouldn't be right for you to try and make it into something that it's not. 

Giving him a weak smile you nodded your head that was currently being cradled in his large hands. "I'm fine."

"C'mon you can tell me." His eyes twinkled with curiosity at your feeble response.

No you can't, you really couldn't not without dying from shame and embarrassment.

"Really I'm fine" you say , looking deep into his blue eyes a few strands of hair fell down his forehead from him leering over you, your fingers itching to brush it away. 

Joe starts to open his mouth to say something when the phone that was in the front pocket of your shorts began ringing. He removes his hands from your face and settles them back into your hair as you retrieve your phone.

You looked at the caller ID and noticed it said 'Malik' almost immediately you hurriedly pressed ignore in guilt. Here you were sitting in between the legs of your best friend who you have a huge crush on, while the guy that was taking you out on Friday night was calling you. 

"Who's Malik?" Joe asks with a familiar caution in his voice. 

Oh boy, you knew a wave of excessive protection was headed your way. Along with some serious interrogation, after your last not-so-pretty breakup two years ago almost every boy you ever showed interest since then Joe manages to scare them off. These days you won't dare mention a guy that you were seeing in wary of Joe's overprotective tendencies. 

"Malik, ya know from high school? I ran into him at the store two weeks ago, um, we've been talking since," You trailed off, noticing the brushing of your hair was getting slower and slower. You could practically hear the gears turning inside his head. " He wants to take me out on Friday."

"Malik as in, Malik Jack-ass?!" He exclaimed, stopping his movements.

You glanced over your shoulder, his expression was hard to read but you could tell the bits of shock coming from it.

"It's Jackson, and yes." You say, not wanting to refer him to the nickname you and Joe came up with in high school.

"What the hell are you doing talking to him?" The wrinkles between his eyebrows appeared as he looked at you with confusion and annoyance. 

"Because I can? Look, he's not the same Malik from high school okay? He's really changed." You explained.

He lets out a scoff. "And you know that from the amount of time you've been talking to him, which is?"

You hated how he made sense.

"Two weeks," You mumble out, watching Joe throw his hand up in the air in exaggeration. "But, I can just tell he's different now! If he was the same guy back then, I wouldn't last a day talking to him."

"You don't think he still has those same qualities ? People just don't get rid of that shit, that's usually the type of person that they are!" His voice was heavy with fury and his eyes were narrowed. Joe always has a protective effect over you, but you've never seen him express this much anger over a guy you were talking to.

"Whatever Joe, it's not cool to judge people from their past, especially when they were in high school!" You shot back, turning your body back around prompting him to continue with your hair.

"I'm not being judgemental I'm simply taking into consideration the way he's treated girls so he won't do the same to you." He gathers your hair a little roughly and tight forming it into a high ponytail causing you to hold on to his bare thigh for stability as you wince. 

"Ow! Take it easy," You scolded, swatting him on the leg. "And he won't!" You said after he was finished, turning back around to face him, still sitting in between his thighs.

"How would you know? You're not going on the date." He responded,  you gave him a look of bewilderment .

Did you hear that right?

"Excuse me?" You questioned, eyebrows being raised in shock.

"You heard me, I'd be the worst fucking friend ever to let you set yourself up for disaster like that." His jaw was clenched, and you noted the way he said the word 'friend' almost as if he was disgusted to call himself that which confused you a whole lot more.

"You're not acting like my friend, you're straight up acting like my goddamn father right now! Which is so fucking annoying let me do what I want to do Joe, I'm not helpless." You huffed out, due to you being only two years younger than him for as long as you could remember Joe looked at you as if you weren't responsible or competent . He had his reasons to think that, back when you were younger however you needed him to know that you were twenty-three years old, very much capable of handling your own situations and relationships. 

Joe looks at you for what seems like forever with mixed emotions, before letting out a humorless laugh and throwing up his hands as if he was backing off. "Okay, you got it, I'll be sure to refrain from saying "I fucking told you so" when shit doesn't work out the way you wanted it to."

And he was right, things hadn't been working out the way you wanted to, but Malik wasn't the problem—far from it actually, it was you, for the longest you'd been trying to force the feelings you have for Joe to disappear and create something with Malik. Which ultimately made you try to walk in a relationship with only for the convenience it brings. You were content for the time being but you weren't truly over the moon or jumping with joy. All because you couldn't shake off the devotion you have for Joe. In the short time of five months with Malik you've found yourself thinking about him. 

Every.Single.Time 

Whenever Malik pulls you into a hug, you couldn't help but to think about Joe's much longer and stronger ones being wrapped around you. When he goes to give you a kiss, you imagine the lips you've been itching to taste for years, being pressed against yours. There was no way around it, and you felt completely horrible knowing Malik didn't deserve any of it. Which is why you ended things with him two weeks ago.

You inform Mrs. Burrow that you were currently single and weren't seeing him anymore. Her face contorts in surprise, with a bit of joy?

"Oh dear, what happened? He didn't do anything, did he?" She asks with concern

"No, it just didn't feel right, I guess." Your words come out in a mumble of shame, knowing you ended a potentially good relationship with someone due to your overwhelming love you have for your best friend who's currently ignoring you.

"Hm, wasn't the kind of guy that you're going for?" She says with a knowing smile, you felt as if her words had a double meaning to them or maybe your detection was off.

"No," You let out a sigh. " He wasn't."

"Does Joe know?" She asked curiously.

"No, don't think he'll care too much anyway." You shrugged.

"You don't know that, it'll probably make his day." She waves her hand dismissively, causing your eyebrows to knit together.

At first, her words confused you, why would Joe be happy? There was no reason for him to be before your realization hits you like a truck. You remember Joe's off Standish behavior when you first brought Malik around him, it was at a small get-together party hosted by your mutual friend from high school, and his displeasure went unnoticed by everyone. You thought it was just his socially awkward persona, but now you are looking back at all the times his mood went black whenever Malik was in his presence. Now that you are in deep thought about it, you realize that the whole time you were with Malik Joe was slowly distancing himself from you. 

Was he still holding his animosity towards your decision to date Malik? 

"I assume you'll be able to make it this weekend though right?" She says, breaking you away from your thoughts.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's going on this weekend?"

"The trip to Hocking Hills," She said. "Joe told me you wouldn't be able to make it because you made plans with Malik."

"I'll try to make it." You told her, depending on how your visit with Joe would go.

After chatting with Mrs. Burrow for a couple of minutes you finally said your goodbyes and made your way to your car. As you drive down the familiar street of Joe's neighborhood, in preparation for how this unsuspected visit from you will go. You couldn't help but feel nervous, not knowing what the outcome will be. Eventually, you made it to his luxurious townhouse, as you parked behind his Porsche in the driveway you notice an unfamiliar car parked in front of the lawn with the engine running, when you got out and walked up the gravel walkway you glance at the green neon lights in the windshield, squinting your eyes you realize the word 'uber' is branded inside the car.

As you neared the entrance of the home, you went to lift up your hand to knock on the door. But before you could do that, the door swung open revealing not only a shirtless Joe but a girl next to him who made you do a double take due to the fact she was a girl you didn't think Joe would go for, she's a girl who looks just like you.

The sight has you completely baffled, she has your exact physique, along with the same type of full hair, and the same skin complexion. The only thing you notice that's different is her facial features, which helped with noticeable botox. 

Definitely a instagram model, you thought eyes dancing around her entire physique. Her own eyes looked you up and down condescending.

"Did I come at a bad time?" You asked taking a quick glance at Joe noticing his arm wrapped around the girl's waist.

"No you're fine." Joe clears his throat before saying. "This is-"

"Abby! My name is Abby" The girl interrupts give you smug smile as she offers her hand.

You took another look at Joe before bringing your attention to Abby grasping her hand with a tense smile. "Y/n, nice to meet you."

"I didn't know, you were coming over" Joe spoke, his voice laced with surprise and his face burned red as if he'd been caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah, thought I'd pop up to see how you were doing." You cut your eye at him as you gave him a sarcastic smile.

Abby clears her throat looking between you two, more specifically you as she takes note of your tensed expression as you glare at the man beside her.

"Well, um, I'm gonna head out." Abby spoke, sensing the tension, she turned to Joe and gave him a sly smile. "Call me?"

He struggles to look at her as he replies."I will stay safe."

Abby proceeds to walk out giving you a subtle nod as you watch her walk down the walkway and into the backseat of the Uber, when the car door closes you turn to face Joe with a raised eyebrow. 

"What's that look?" He asks as you step inside, closing the door behind you.

"Nothing, just surprising your dipping your toe into something new." You said turning around to face him, taking in his disheveled appearance. His hair was slightly messy with a few curls dropping down, and his sweatpants hung low. Before you slipped into the depths of a salivating horn ball, you quickly looked away. "Or should I say your dick?"

Joe let out a breathless chuckle, running his hand over his hair multiple times. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" You mocked, Joe rolled his eyes at your childish answer as he stepped away from the doorway. "The real question is, what's up with your attitude lately?" You follow him out of the foyer and into the living room, where you spot two empty wine glasses. With a frown you turned your attention elsewhere, hating the fact that it was more likely when you were sitting watching horrible movies all night by yourself, Joe was accompanying someone else as you drowned in sorrow from his absence.

"Nothing, I've just been busy." He says looking everywhere but your face as he grabs the glasses from the coffee table and heads to the kitchen. 

"With Abby?" You say, leaning your forearms against the island counter as you watch him place the glasses in the sink. "Is that why you're acting like this?" You questioned again, You couldn't help the bitterness in your tone, from jealousy and anger.

From all the years you've known Joe, you know that he likes to keep his relationships private, and behind closed doors. He has a history of withholding his relationship status for the longest until he suddenly pops up with a girl on his arm randomly. To this day he wouldn't gossip about any girl that he takes interest in, he'd rather keep it to himself. Displaying his romantic life with anyone for Joe was a no-go.

"Acting like what? and no, she's just a friend." He responds, rinsing the glasses. His back was turned to you, showing a clear view of his toned muscular shoulder blades with faint red scratch marks. You managed to force yourself to look away, automatically knowing that his definition of her being a "friend" meant that her role is a casual hookup. 

"A "friend" who you ditched your real friend for?" You questioned shooting daggers at the back of his head, before adding. "Your best friend actually, who had to spend her Friday night alone."

"Is that what this visit is about?" He asked turning around while letting out a small huff when he noticed the small glare upon your pretty features, ignoring the way how cute your nose scrunched up or your soft lips form into a pout. 

"Yes! amongst other things, I want to get clear with you." You answered, relaxing your hostile stare.

He let out a hum briefly looking you up and down before saying. "What is it?"

You stood up straighter fiddling with your car keys in hand. "Are you still mad at me for dating Malik? Is that why you've been trying to be distant?"

The curiosity in you peaked more as you watched him draw back, his demeanor appearing to be flabbergasted, while he battled with himself to give you an answer. You wonder if he was conflicted between telling the truth or giving you a bold face lie.

"No, I'm not mad about your dating life. You are your own person. It's not my place to have a say about who you chose to have in your life." He finally says, after a couple minutes of silence. "You're happy, that's all that matters."

You laughed sarcastically. "You know, that would be so touching if it were true."

"It is the truth!"

"If it is, then why are you being so shitty towards me?" You pressed.

"I have not. You're being ridiculous."

"No, you are. You canceled on me yet again!"

Joe rolls his eyes. "Me canceling your plan to hangout automatically makes me a shitty person? Really?"

"No but doing it consistently and purposely makes you one." You said not understanding how can he not see what you were coming from.

"Oh that's rich coming from you." He chuckles as he shook his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How many times have you canceled out on me to make plans with Malik? Do you see me coming into your home calling you a "shitty person" ? No! So cut all of this bullshit out!" His voice is raised and you could see redness creeping upon his neck.

He was getting angry.

"Are you serious? I have never stood you up for Malik it was always work-related." You look at him in disbelief before chuckling." Every time you find a way to bring him up, that just goes to show me you are acting like this because of him."

For some reason you didn't want to tell him you ended things with Malik. The fact he was willing to be mad at you for your choice to date him and neglect you because of it has you pissed.

He threw his hands up in frustration while letting out a deep sigh. "I'm not doing this with you."

"Doing what?"

"Having an argument. Because I called off on a stupid movie night." He furrows his eyebrows as he stares down at you with annoyance. "Don't you have a boyfriend to do that with any way or was he too busy balls deep in another chick to care?"

You felt a deep ache in your stomach as the words leave his mouth. You were hurt for two reasons: him calling your movie night "stupid" especially since you went all out for it buying his favorite snacks and the fact he couldn't see that you really wanted to spend time with him. Not Malik. Him the man who you're really in love with.

"What's really stupid is that you neglect me because you hate Malik so much!" This time your voice was raised as you glare at him.

"I already told you that's not true I've been busy!" He yells running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Bullshit!" You shouted in return before trying to calm yourself. "Honestly I better go before I say something I regret later."

Joe scoffs while shrugging. "You know where the door is."

You bit the inside your cheek resisting the urge to reach over the counter wrapping your hands around his neck. However, you were never a violent person and couldn't imagine putting your hands on your best friend. So instead without giving him a glance you snatch your keys from the counter muttering under your breath "I hope Abby gave you crabs"

"What did you say?" He asked pushing himself away from the counter. You purposely didn't respond knowing it was one of his biggest pet peeves. As you proceeded to head towards the front door, you could hear his footsteps trailing after you.

"Fine you don't have to tell me, just know I won't be answering your calls or texts!" He shouted after you.

You laughed sarcastically. "Oh what will I ever do without talking to you."

"That's funny considering that's the exact reason you're here right now" He said smugly.

There is no doubt that he has you there, but you cannot allow him to have the final word.

"Unfortunately Malik was unavailable." You shot back .

"Yeah spending time with his other girlfriend I'd assume." Damn he won.

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"Don't tell me to shut up!"

"Just did!"

You would've laughed at the childish banter if you weren't highly annoyed. Leave it to you two to argue like children. Without saying another word you yank the front door opened and proceeded to walk angrily over to your car.

Joe shut the door loudly with a sigh hearing your car drive away. He hates fighting with you, in fact, he hates anything that causes a frown on your face. And knowing he was the reason made him feel like shit. Of course, when you confronted him about being distant, he knew where you were coming from. You were right he has been pushing you away because of Malik. He felt as if its the right thing to do. It made him sick to his stomach that Malik gets to hold and kiss you the way he's been yearning to do for years. To the point the feeling was becoming overwhelming he needed to stay away. Of course, he feels guilty and a little disgusted with himself to put you in the position of feeling like you've done something wrong.

Especially since it's not your fault he's fallen head over heels for you.

The situation is definitely not easy to be in since he's convinced you for sure don't love him like he loves you. Each day goes by and it feels like the feeling grows stronger and gets deeper. He knows feeling this way will only cause a great deal of trouble. The love continues to evolve whenever you were near even when you two were arguing he felt his heart swell with heavy emotion. There were many times he thought about just blurting out how much he's in love with you however in came that fear of confessing to someone you've been close to and tarnishing the indestructible bond you developed.

In fact he would rather suffer knowing you are smitten by another man , than to not have you as his best friend. He couldn't imagine losing you even though it already felt as if he had the minute you told him you're dating Malik.

Letting out another deep sigh, Joe walked into his living room and plopped down on the couch fishing his phone from his pocket to try and get his mind off you for once. Of course, that didn't go well because as soon as he opened his phone he was met with a picture of the two of you on his lock screen.

The picture was taken by his mom on the day of his 25th birthday when you gifted him a bouquet of peach-colored flowers. He remembers the embrace he pulled you in tightly, the pleasant smell of your natural, earthy, and rich scent as he thanked you. As well, he recalls pulling away when his mom announced that she was taking a picture of you both with her brand-new digital camera. Immediately you jumped up in his arms, and your legs were wrapped sideways around his waist in a hip carry position. No surprise there you were always an intimate hugger, never shying away to hold someone close. Your arms encircled his neck, he could feel his cheek pressing against yours as his right forearm gripped your waist and his left hand held the flowers firmly. You smiled brightly as the camera flashed.

Ultimately it became his favorite photo of you both, mostly because how naturally you two looked so much like a couple.

Additionally, the picture managed to capture his favorite piece of jewelry on you. You received it as a college graduation present from him: a two-piece diamond anklet bracelet. The idea of him spending a large amount of money on something so small on you was something you absolutely didn't want to accept at first. It seems you never take it off now, which he really enjoys.

A caller ID soon took over his screen interrupting his gaze. He answers it without hesitation.

"Hey Mom, what's up?" He said.

"Nothing much just finished making your father and I's lunch." Said Mrs.Burrow. "You know Mrs. Elwood from down the street? The nice lady that used to give you and y/n's those gigantic candy bars? Poor thing fell down the stairs."

"Really? That's terrible. Is she okay?" Joe furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

"She suffered a broken hip unfortunately but other than that she's fine. Luckily her daughter was visiting and immediately called 911. So she's currently in the hospital right now, maybe you and y/n can visit her ?" She tells him.

He stayed silent for a moment not knowing if he should tell his mom about the argument he'd just had with you.

"Joe? Hello?"

"Yeah, Ma I'll see." He murmurs picking at the loose thread of his sweatpants. With ample opportunity he'll visit he just wasn't so sure you'll both go together.

"Honey are you okay? you sound a bit down when you picked up the phone." She could immediately detect the sourness in his tone.

"Me and Y/N kinda gotten into an argument." He blurts out, knowing there was no way he could get away from his mom's intuition.

There was silence on the other end for a minute. Now it was Joe's turn to call out. "Mom you there?"

"I'm here, just thinking what in god's name is going on with you two. "

"I don't know mom, she came over bringing up the fact I'm not being a good friend to her." He explains. "Then it escalated from there."

"Was it a really bad argument?"

He shook his head as if she could see him. "No. It was just ridiculous. Her argument completely stems from the fact I didn't join her for movie night."

"And why didn't you?" His mom asked curiously.

"I've been busy." Joe said defensively.

"With what?"

"You know working out, training camp is in a couple weeks. Umm—" He stops to think of any other things he was currently doing which wasn't much.

"Here I'll finish it for you, avoiding my best friend because I'm in love with her and I don't like the fact that she's dating someone." She said in a mocking deep voice.

"Mom!"

"What?! That's exactly what you're doing Joey. And you are breaking her heart in the process." She scowls. "This method of trying to make your feelings go away is not doing you any good. You need to tell her how you feel now is a perfect time."

"How is now the perfect time mom? pretty sure she's got me on her block list." He said while rolling his eyes and he wasn't kidding he knew you can get petty like that.

"For one she's coming on the trip-" His mom started to say but what cut off.

"Mom I already told you she can't make it." He huffs out sinking deeper into a grumpy mood remembering why you're not going. Fucking Malik Jack-ass's birthday since when did you actually give a shit? he swears he never thought he'd see the day.

"Yeah, when she was dating that Malik guy," Robin says and he could practically see the smirk on her face.

What?

"What do you mean?" He asks incredulously. There was a tugging in his heart as his mind process her words. What does she mean by "was dating"? He was certain you were still seeing Malik and you weren't going on the trip.

"I mean Romeo, your girl is single and she's making it to the trip this weekend."

He felt as if ice-cold water have been thrown on him. Millions of questions were running rapidly in his head. You and the Jack-ass broke up? Since when? Why didn't you tell him?

Before he could utter out another word his mom continues to clarify.

"I talked to her earlier when she came over pretty upset by you and told me during our conversation." She adds.

"What? why didn't she tell me?" Joe now felt bad and concerned as to what the hell might've happened between you and Malik.

"She said you probably wouldn't care considering the way you're acting toward her."

If he felt bad before, he now feels like shit. It was a fight between happiness and having pins and needles stick him repeatedly. Before he can do any internal celebrating he needs to know if you were distraught in any kind of way. No matter how long he waited for this day to come he couldn't be happy with himself knowing you were undergoing heartbreak.

"Did she say why?" He said carefully his mind racing with all the possibilities of why you two would break up; Did the old Malik show up? Was he not giving you the amount of attention you deserve?.

"Just that he wasn't the guy she was going for," Robin said reassuringly she knew how passionate Joe was about you. " Don't worry she said he didn't do anything bad, they ended things on good terms."

With that, Joe finds himself at ease but only for a bit, he couldn't fully relax unless he hears it from you directly face-to-face. He wants to know you're not sugar-coating anything in protection for Malik because God knows how badly he's been wanting an excuse to punch him square in the face. Joe was never a fighter by no means but when it comes to his love he wouldn't hesitate to protect.

You hated packing.

Mostly because you were terrible at it. In the past you overpacked so much you felt ridiculous, now you're scrambling around trying to limit the number of outfits and necessities. You tried to make it a thought process but ultimately threw in what you felt is necessary. With a huff, you zipped your travel bag not feeling entirely satisfied you knew once you get to the resort you'd forgotten something. For a moment you thought about not actually going, the argument with Joe still had you in a sour mood best friends or not there's no way you'll enjoy being in his presence for three whole days. But despite that, you knew you couldn't leave Robin in the lurch especially after giving your word.

Halfway through you gathering your items, three loud knocks were heard at the door. Furrowing your eyebrow you checked your phone to see who could be possibly stopping by, but nothing. There wasn't any new text messages and the last person you to talk with was Robin telling her you were still getting ready.

Your feet padded along the carpeted floor toward the door, and curiosity peaked until it didn't. Standing there dressed in a white tee and white hoochie daddy shorts, is Joe practically towering over you.

Immediately your eyebrows were pulled down as you eyed him." What are you doing here?"

"You look nice." He said, looking over your appearance. Nice being an understatement, you looked beautiful, he thank God for the heatwave Cincinnati was currently experiencing because if it weren't for that you wouldn't be standing there in a mini floral print lace dress. You never really wore dresses or anything that showed off your body casually, always finding comfort in baggy stylish clothes. You've always preferred to rather leave something to the imagination. That's one of the things he loves about you.

"Thanks." You mumble, tugging at the cropped cardigan even though it was almost crossing over to 90 degrees outside. Despite the compliment, you still kept your tone cold. "Now are you going to answer my question?"

"Can I come in first? I brought lunch." He helped up a bag in his hand that you didn't notice before.

You contemplate for a minute eyes darting between him and the bag, which has the logo of your favorite restaurant on it. He's trying to butter me up, you thought getting a whiff of the fresh food.

Without saying a word you step aside, you told yourself you were only doing this because you missed out on breakfast. Like knowing the back of his hand Joe navigates through your condo and into your living room. He set the food bag on the coffee table before sitting on the curved sectional sofa. There his expression flicker to something unreadable as he makes eye contact with you.

"Why are you showing up here unannounced?" You asked while taking a seat in your lounge chair.

"Like you did with me a couple days ago?" He raised an eyebrow at you, his tone wasn't irritated or vexed but rather amusing in fact if you weren't mistaken he seem to be in a good mood. A certain glow in his demeanor catches your attention. His overall presence felt relaxed and less annoyed the opposite of what you've seen for months now.

Abby probably lifted up his mood this morning The thought left a bitter feeling in your chest and for that, it made your glare towards him even harder.

Joe notices your harsh stare and chuckles finding it rather cute, of course, he knew you were rightfully mad at him but he couldn't help it your angry faces were never intimidating in the slightest. "Would you stop pouting? you're gonna get wrinkles by the time you hit thirty."

"You still haven't answered my question as to why you are here." You started crossing your legs as well as your arms.

"Maybe if you hadn't blocked my number, you would know." He said reaching into the bag and pulling out the take-out containers. The fresh smell had your stomach grumbling and mouth-watering

"Well, you did say not to call or text." You shrugged. "I was just making it easier for you."

"It isn't. Believe me, not exactly a good day if I don't hear from you. " He sighs. His voice sounded soft and gentle you'd never heard him speak like this before. As soon as his pale blue eyes met yours, you instantly felt a tickling sensation at the pit of your stomach as if millions of butterflies were crowded in one tiny room.

He looks at you with so much....love? no, It can't be. You wanted to scoff at your own delusions of course you would mistake his happy mood for something that's not that there.

Clearing your throat and breaking away from his eyes. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Do I have to? C'mon, you know we always ride together whenever we go on a trip." Joe didn't care how mad you were at him, there's no way you could break a tradition like that.

"Who says I'm going on the trip?" You said nonchalantly. Though you had a pretty good idea of who it was that told him.

He rolled his eyes. "My mom told me. But you already knew that, so would you stop being stubborn?"

You expected him to elaborate more on what Robin told him specifically about the fact why you weren't seeing Malik anymore but it never came.

You raised an eyebrow while scoffing. "Forgive me for not wanting to be stuck in the car you."

"Look, I know you're still mad at me and for that I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you the best way I know how."

"By giving me food?" You quirked an eyebrow while accepting the container he handed off to you.

He chuckles showing off a duchenne smile. "Well I don't know anything other than food that will make you forgive me."

Your love and affection

a kiss maybe ?

"Coughing up Tee's number didn't cross your mind?" You half-joked. If you weren't stupidly in love with your best friend Tee would definitely be the guy you'll try to go for. He's so sweet and smells good every time you're around him.

Joe instantly loses his smile as he looks at you irritated. Making you laugh out loud. You don't know why, but it amuses you when Joe always felt strange at the thought of you with someone from his team. In fact, he told you it would feel similar, liking one of his blood brothers. "No, It didn't. It never will."

"Don't worry, I'll get it out of you somehow." You assured.

"Good luck with that." He says, shaking his head.

"I'm guessing you're not going to leave until I agree to ride with you, huh?" You inquired as you observed him comfortably lean back into the sofa. He took up the majority of the space, sitting there with his legs wide open and one arm stretched out.

God, you were supposed to be mad at him. But him sitting there looking like that your grudge is becoming fruitless.

"You guessed right. I'm not leaving here without you." He clarifies keeping his eyes trained on you. His gaze has been possessing since the moment he walked in. You heart skips a beat it was a look you certainly wasn't used to coming from him.

Lord give me strength. You thought while swallowing as you focus your attention back on your food.

The humming engine and music faintly played in the background filled the silence in the car. As Joe drove along the highway, one hand on the wheel, the other was picking at his lip. It's about an hour into the ride, and you have yet to indulge in a full conversation with him, only talking in a monotone, giving him occasional one-worded responses, and even answering with "k". He knew you were on some petty payback plan and had every right to be. Back at your condo, he thought maybe the food he'd bring will soften you up to him and it did, but only for a moment. As soon as you two hit the road, you were disconnected from him. Now he was left feeling pretty angsty, never have you two been on a quieter ride in your entire life, especially on a road trip. He really fucked up. With a sigh, he took snuck a peek at you and was met with the most endearing sight.

As your head rested against the window, hands crossed and eyelids hanging low, you stared ahead dazed. Sleep was just a few seconds away. Soft puffy lips he'd dreamt of kissing so many times were slightly parted. The wind that was coming through the window was blowing you long coils all around, you looked ethereal. And even more so in that dress, he wonders if Malik ever had the chance to see you in it or if was he the first person to witness such beauty. Sundresses were never your go-to summer fit so probably.

He came to the realization that you had taken off your sweater and that the strap of your dress had fallen off your shoulder revealing more of the swell of your breast. That's when he saw them. Tiny parallel streaks of thinned glossy skin printed on the slope of your breast. Stretch marks. He'd heard you complain about them to your girlfriends over the phone one time calling the marks ugly.

How so wrong you were. He felt they made you more enticing. Lifelike even. They were an everyday beauty of something he'll like to see often. Striking and heavenly just like you.

The sound of a loud horn pulls him away from his stare.

"Shit!" He cursed loudly placing both hands on the wheel as the angry driver of the semi-truck blew their horn again.

You jerked up in surprise a shriek left your lips as the car narrowly avoid contact.

"Jesus! Joey are you trying to kill us?!" You shouted, heart, feeling like it was ready to burst from your chest.

"Sorry, I kind of spaced out." He replied. His face beat red not sure if it was from almost crashing or the embarrassing fact that you were the reason he was distracted. You were quite literally going be the death of him.

"You're red." You stated with a frown of concern. "Are you okay? Do you want me to drive?"

"No! I'm fine, really." He clears his throat keeping his eyes forward. "Just the heat is getting to me I guess."

The window was immediately rolled up and you reached for the console control panel, where you tapped the ventilation system and selected 'fast air conditioning' without saying a word.

It was something any normal person would do if they were in the middle of a heat wave, however, since he knew you always preferred to have your window down. He didn't bother turning on the air.

Silence filled the car for the next few minutes with Joe's attention fully on the road with a faint smile.

You notice. "What's that grin for?"

"You called me Joey."

"And?" You said wanting him to elaborate more.

"That means you aren't mad at me anymore. Whoohoo!" He cheered taking one hand off the wheel to reach over and enthusiastically shake your shoulder.

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek trying not to smile at his over-the-top celebration. "Yeah, well, after nearly experiencing death I thought maybe holding a grudge isn't the best way to go out."

"Now who's the one being dramatic? We weren't going to die I had it under control."

"Lost in your thoughts so much you almost crashed is having it under control?" You raised an eyebrow watching him struggle to answer. "What were thinking about anyway?"

You, as always. He thinks.

"How much you were right about me." He says and then fell silent.

He could practically hear the gears in your head turning.

"What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath his gaze remains on the road. " I didn't like the fact you were with Malik. "

"Why?" Your tone had a sense of hopefulness to it as if you were expecting him to say something.

"Because," He paused thinking over the next words that were going to leave his mouth before continuing to say. " I was stuck into thinking he was the same person from high school and I didn't want my best friend with someone who would hurt her in the end."

Joe missed the way your face dropped with disappointment.

"Well, he didn't."

"I heard. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Other than the fact I'm back to square one, I'd say I'm feeling fine." You said bitterly crossing your arms.

"Don't sweat it, the right one will come." He said.

You scoff. "Easy for you to say, you got people flocking to you left to right."

"Oh, and you don't?Superbowl girl" Joe teased.

You groaned out loud at him referring to the time you went viral for attending the Superbowl the camera broadcast you for millions to see for five seconds. Within a short period of time, you gained followers and thirsty users in your direct messages. For some reason, people thought you were attractive at that moment looking concerned for Joe as he lay on the ground withering in pain.

"You just had to bring that up." You said shaking your head with a smile.

Joe's chuckle erupts throughout the car. " I'm just saying I'm not the only one here whose dms looks like a thirst fest."

A laugh left your lips and he felt his heart swell. Even your laugh was beautiful. It was light and laced with amusement.

"You were right too you know." He looks over at you in confusion causing you to elaborate more. "Things didn't turn out the way I wanted."

"Like I said, don't sweat it. They will soon enough."

You and Joe continued joking, laughing, recalling nostalgic memories for the rest of the ride until you eventually arrived at a modern style lodge cabin. It wasn't over the top luxurious or anything but you can tell that it's sleek and spacious while still having a cozy atmosphere. With the car parked, you immediately got out and stretched while Joe circles around the car to retrieve the bags out the trunk.

"This looks peaceful." You comment looking at the cabin. The mellow glow of the evening sunset made it look extra harmonious.

"And isolated," Joe adds with a sigh.

"Sounds like you got a problem with that." You began to head for the walkway up to the cabin.

"I do." He says walking alongside you toward the entrance of the lodge each hand carrying his and your travel bag. "Easier for us to get killed. Next time I'm picking where we go, not my mom."

"I'll be sure to tell her that." You said in a sly tone.

"Don't you dare." He warned cutting his eye over to you.

Before you could say anything else the front door opens abruptly revealing Joe's mom in all her glory. A smile on her face when she spots you two climbing up stairs of the porch.

"Finally you both are here, I was afraid you guys got lost or something." She said ushering you both in.

Upon entering you were met with a bright and open generous space, with high ceiling and cedar wood construction walls. The entrance of the cabin is connected to the kitchen which is sleek and spacious. It also smelt of Joe's mom infamous meatloaf that has your stomach rumbling. From where you were standing you could into the grand living space that features a dramatic stone fire place and floor-to-ceiling windows. Next door is a formal dining area with the view of the back patio. If you had the option to live here you would gladly take it.

"We almost did. Since someone wanted to tell me about a shortcut they seen on Google maps." Joe not so subtly cut his eye over to you.

"You took that wrong turn,not me." You shot back remembering the moment of frustration when he misheard the direction he was given.

"And let's not forget we wouldn't be standing here at all because someone wanted to daydream behind the wheel." You added.

"What?!" His mom turn her head in direction.

"It was nothing I had it under control." Joe said sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Jesus, you know what next time we are all going in one vehicle."

"Speaking of next time, he said that you-"

"Ahem!" Out of nowhere Joe started to fake cough uncontrollably.

"You okay honey?"

"Yeah m'fine." He said clearing his throat. You wheeze out a chuckle that didn't go unnoticed by Joe who squints his eyes in your direction when his mom turned her back.

"Well anyway, your father and brothers went out to grab firewood for the firepit tonight. I'll show you both your room so you guys can get settled in." She says walking out the kitchen.

You didn't miss the way she said "room" instead of rooms and apparently Joe didn't either,

"We're sharing a room?"

"Yeah, when I initially thought y/n wasn't going I ended up booking a cabin that fit all of us."

You hated the way your stomach flutter with excitement and nervousness. Sharing a room with Joe was frequent when you were younger was easier and less nervous now as you are a full grown adult with feelings It feels like a dream and nightmare at the same time.

His mom lead you both to the other side of the house , passing the spiral stairs you thought you were going in the direction of. Instead she stops at the only bedroom located in the back of the house on the first level.

"Okay here we are!" She exclaims opening the door revealing a spacious rustic bedroom with wooden ceiling and walls, two large floor-to-ceiling windows faced the direction of the lake. You would've admired it more if the only bed in the room didn't capture your attention.

A faint ding of a timer goes off in a distance.

"That must be my dinner rolls. Get settled in you two!" A smile was thrown your way before she rushes out the room her kitten heeled sandals clicks loudly against the hardwood floor.

There was a pregnant pause as Joe silently walks over to the cushion storage bench to set your bags down. You examine more of the room, specifically to busy yourself from acknowledging the big fat elephant. For the life of you it felt like you couldn't tame your racing heart, sharing a bed with Joe was the last thing you needed in order to get rid of your feelings for him. There's no way you'll be able to get through the night.

"Looks like we got our own bathroom." Joe spoke, snapping you away from your racing thoughts.

You turned in his direction to see him walking inside the adjacent bathroom. Oddly enough you notice he didn't mention anything about the single bed. Clearly it wasn't a big deal for him and it should put you at ease however it raised even more questions. Is he expecting you to protest? Look for another place to sleep?

"Really? That's cool." You said trying to appear nonchalant as possible.

When he steps out the bathroom you see him look at the bed with a grimace. "Nope, absolutely not."

You felt like your heart fell down to your stomach in despair. It was because of you isn't it? Of course he doesn't want to share a bed with you he probably feels weird.

"What is it?" You asked in a quiet tone, pretending to take interest in the outside world.

He clearly sees you has someone who he didn't want to be that close and intimate with.

"It has too many pillows."

Oh.

You looked over and he was right; the king size bed were mostly filled with different sizes of pillows. Before you knew it he began to toss some of them at the foot of the bed.

"Is that necessary?"You asked standing near the opposite side of the bed.

"There going to end up on the floor anyway seeing that m' gonna be dealing with a wild sleeper tonight." He said with a teasing smile.

"I am not a wild sleeper." You said in denial.

"Sure," He sarcastically rolling his eyes.

"Well, you snore so I'll be dealing with that."

"What? No I don't."

"Do, too. You snore like your dad whenever he nods off in his comfy chair." You laughed.

He slowly licks his lips before pressing them together as an attempt to hide his smile and keep a straight face.

"Take that back right now."

"Nope. You sound exactly like this—" You said before mimicking the obnoxious loud sounds you once heard coming from him.

Seemingly out of nowhere he makes his way around the bed launching for you, quick. A shriek left you as he got a hold on you his hands latches their way to your sides fingers wiggling alongside your ribcage. Immediately bubbly laughter left you as you tried to get away not prepared the way his fingers danced around your weak spots.

"Joey! Stop!" You laughed as you fall laying on your back on the bed.

"Take it back." He playfully scolded. His hand moves down towards your stomach the place where he knows you're the most sensitive.

"Noho!"

"You know I haven't given these to you for awhile so you've asked for it now." He chuckles as you try to capture and stop his hands.

"W-wait, hold on!" You yell out rolling on to your sides as you try to move away. The fact that you could very well be revealing everything that underneath your dress wasn't a factor in that moment.

All you could think about the sensations you were experiencing and Joe's laugh in the air mixed with yours.

He began to tickle all over your neck and collarbone, your hands struggled to capture him in order to stop his movements. Soon you broke out in silent laughter. Tears forming at the corner of your eyes at the intensity of his tickles.

"S-s-stop it Joey!" You said in between giggles.

"Or what?" He taunts, pausing his movements.

"You really don't want to know." Your voice was giggly and non-threatening whatsoever.

"Oh yeah?" He said before his hands went back to work.

Your reaction is immediate, a shriek of laughter fell from your lips, legs flailing up causing your dress to rise more likely flashing Joe but you didn't care as you tried to pry his fingers away. 

"Oh,my god. I can't breathe" You said.

He laughed. "Yes you can. Just say sorry and I'll stop."

"Wait,stop, joey."

"That's not sorry." He said.

"Okay! I'm sorry!" You gave in, just as his hand went to your thigh to continue the torture. Tiny droplets of tears rolled down your cheeks, which were weakly wiped away as you were still on the high of laughter.

As he hovers over you on the bed, his hands stop. While catching your breath, you realized the position you were in. Joe was on top of you with one leg caged in between yours, his small diamond chain dangling in front of your face. Relax, calm yourself. Even though you were telling yourself to refocus, that was easier said than done. Because as soon as your eyes met his, the same look he had given you at your condo appears yet again. The same covetous gaze you tried to justify.

He's staring at you like he wants you. Does he want me? You wondered full of hope.

Your heart will stop when he says what he says next.

"You have the most beautiful smile."

You've been complimented before by Joe. However, it has never been done with so much passion and desire. It was shocking and exciting. Especially from someone you never would've thought would speak to you that way. That someone who is your best friend.

But a friend just wouldn't look at you in the way he is now.

"Um, uh, thanks." You stammered out.

He smiles sheepishly. " Hope m' not making you feel weird."

With his large frame leering over you with his arms propping himself up on either side of your head along with that look. Feeling weird wouldn't even be on the list of the thing you're experiencing right now.

"You're fine." You said getting warm.

He opens his mouth to say something but the sound of loud voices could be heard down the hall. The sound of his dad and brothers voices.

Immediately he gets up as you follow suit adjusting your dress which had risen up quite high.

"I'm gonna go see if they need help with the firewood." He said before abruptly leaving the room quite flustered himself and was looking everywhere but you.

As the day progressed, you and Joe were in a state of awkwardness and uncertainty. As a result, you had allowed yourself to ignore the obvious tension and converse with his family throughout dinner. You couldn't help but glance at Joe, who was already staring at you before quickly averting his gaze elsewhere. However awkward it may have been for you, you can't now deny that he was at least attracted to you.

It had your head spinning and heart skipping. Yet you couldn't help but to feel confused as to why. Was it the dress? Or did he got caught up in the moment? The questions were embedded within your mind later on in the evening when you found yourself sitting around the fire, everyone was stuffed from dinner and delicious pumpkin pie all except Joe who is on his second serving of the dessert. Voices and laughter overbearing the crackling of the fire as you sat silent enjoying the nature and atmosphere around you.

You were brought out your thoughts by soft weight being layed upon your exposed shoulders.

"Hey, cover up with this ,honey it looks like your freezing." You turn your head to Joe's mom wrapping a chunky knit blanket around you.

"Thank you." You said in relief, she was right with the temperature drastically dropping down your thin dress was fruitless against the night weather. "Whatcha got there?"

"A guide of all the things we can go to and do tomorrow" She said taking a seat next to you in the empty camp chair a small pamphlet in her hand. "There's a winery and flower farm I think would be great to visit."

"That seems fun." You would actually agree to go anywhere, it hasn't even been an entire day yet you could feel yourself catching cabin fever already.

"Oh! I meant to ask if you were comfortable with the room situation? If you're not I can always make one of these goofballs room with each other." She gesture towards Joe and his brother who were joking around with each other.

"I don't mind it." You said and immediately cringing at how fast you answered.

"Good, maybe this be will your opportunity to confess your feelings to him ." She blurted out.

Your head whipped in her direction so quick you were surprised it didn't snap. "W-what?"

" The looks were giving at him during dinner alone gives it away, honey."

You wanted to be mendacious and deny. Though it would be pointless as one, you wouldn't come across as believable and two, she wouldn't buy it either way. To be cautious you took a glance in Joe's direction he was still engrossed in his conversation with his brother, it brought you a huge relief he didn't hear anything that was said. You would've probably died from embarrassment.

"It's that obvious huh?" You said with chuckle.

"He feels the same way to you know." She says casually. "You guys just needs to stop dancing around before it hurts you both."

"I don't want to risk ruining our friendship." You muttered, staring ahead at the fire. You knew your friendship is valued and didn't want it to end because you misinterpreted things with Joe.

"He is very attached to you, so I don't think that will happen."

Before you could utter another word a droplet falls from the sky and lands on your cheek followed by another. Soon came the sound of pounding thunder in a distance. Everyone immediately got up from their seats and began to scramble inside. Once you were away from the rain it seem everyone went their separate ways to call it a night.

After saying goodnight to Joe's parents you and him both proceeded to head towards your shared room. The room you'd been given that has one bed. There wasn't a single word uttered once you entered the room and has you walked over to your bag to fish out your pajamas which is a oversized looney tunez t-shirt gifted by the man himself and a pair of pajamas pants....which is not packed. Your eyes widened, the pajamas pants you were sure you packed weren't there.

You searched frantically in the bag hoping you may have overlooked but came up empty handed, except your underwear and t-shirt. God this is going to be awkward.

"What's wrong?" Joe asked taking off his shoes as a distressed sigh leaves your lips.

"Nothing I just forgot something." You mumbled out quickly going inside the bathroom to do your nightly routine.

Another deep sigh left you when you shut the door behind you and turned on the lights. The bathroom is fairly spacious with an elegant rustic style that goes along with the rest of the cabin. Typical personal care products and essentials are splayed throughout. When you got finished admiring you walked toward the huge walk-in shower. You knew the water controls would cause you a headache just by looking at it. And it did after several attempts of learning you finally got to your right temperature and soon as you stepped in before shutting the glass door the heated water soon soothes your tense muscles. The Steam rose to the ceiling clouding above your head, and the sweet fragrance of your body wash filled the space around you as you gently rub it against your skin.

As you got lost lathering your thoughts began to drift to the conversation you had with Joe's mom.

He feels the same way too you know

No, you in fact don't know, aside from the moment earlier you don't ever remember Joe looking at you with any interest.

It was hard to not take Joe's mom's word though. Especially since she's the person who knows him well and through. Now you started to question his real reason for disliking Malik. Was he just jealous the entire time? Just the thought made you happy and feel lightheaded.

You begin to hum to try to take your mind off the speculation and forced yourself to think of something else.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you turned the shower off and stepped onto the fluffy mat. You quickly dried off and lather your body before slipping on your underwear and t-shirt. Sighing, you glanced in the massive rectangular mirror, mentally wincing at how the shirt came down to your mid-thigh. Fingers brush over the tiny stretch marks that are splayed on the side of your thighs. Deep down, you knew nothing was wrong with them and that it was natural and inevitable. But you couldn't help to think about Joe's reaction to them. Would he find it strange?

You shook your head mentally scolding, hating yourself for getting sprung over what a man thinks of your body. No matter who it is, you were raised better than that.

When you emerged from the bathroom along with steam. You find Joe sitting down on the end-of-a-bed bench with a full bowl of popcorn and a remote in his hand as he stares at the TV. He turns his head in your direction when he sees you walk past him swiftly to put your discarded clothes away.

"What's all this?" You asked after zipping your bag, gesturing toward the bowl.

"Isn't it obvious? I owe you a movie night." He says quite proudly.

"Hm , I thought it was stupid?" You said tugging down the shirt as you walk over to the bed.

"What I said was stupid" He shakes his head. "I'm doing this as a part of making it up to you."

There goes that look again....

"So what do you have in mind?" You climb on the bed careful not to flash your underwear and layed by the end of the bed flat on your stomach.

"I was thinking you pick while I'm in the shower?" He holds out the remote for you to take which you gladly did.

"Don't mind if I do." You muttered, immediately going to horror. It was the perfect setting a horror movie night anyway, deserted cabin, heavy rain and thunder.

"No horror movies!" He adds standing up and getting ready to head into the shower.

"Scaredy cat." You called out right as the bathroom door shuts behind him.

Thirty minutes later, Joe returns from the steamy bathroom with just sweatpants and a towel drying his wet hair. In the same position, he spots you laughing at your phone most likely at a tiktok video . Your eyes caught his gaze and you sit upright turning off your phone. He gulps suddenly becoming nervous, it's been awhile since you've shared a room and the first time to actually share a bed together. For the longest he's dreamt of this. The love he has for you is too strong to ignore the situation and act like everything is fine.

"Superbad or The Hangover?" You asked keeping your eyes on him as he got situated on the bed next to you.

He ponders for a second before saying. "Um, Superbad, haven't seen that one in awhile."

The wind continues to howl as the rain pours down harshly outside when you press play. He pretends not to notice the brush of your elbow, despite being in a fairly large bed you two were in close proximity both sitting up with your backs on the headboard. In his peripheral vision, he secretly stares at your side profile looking for any sign of discomfort about the fact your lying in the same bed. Instead he sees you focused on the TV laughing without a care in the world. Your relaxed state automatically makes him feel the same way. No big deal. It's just like sleeping by himself, and he's willing to pretend he's alone. Yet how can that be possible when he is in fact not alone and is joined by you—the person he's head over heels for in just a t-shirt? No doubt it will be a challenge.

"That was you in high school." You nudged him before pointing towards the screen which splayed Michael Cera's character Evan awkwardly talking to Becca.

He scrunches his nose. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that."

"Am I wrong though? Remember Emily Robinson from study hall?" You questioned with a teasing smile adorned on your face. "She pretty much threw herself you at every given chance and you were totally oblivious. "

"The opposite is true, I wasn't oblivious." He said with honesty.

Confusion filled your eyes as you furrowed your eyebrows. "What? You're lying!"

"I promise you I'm not." He chuckles throwing his hands up in defense. " I knew she liked me, I just didn't know how to tell her off."

As you shake your head, you exclaim, "Oh, that's so hard to believe."

"And why's that?"

"That's the case with virtually every girl who shows interest in you."

He shrugs. "Or who knows maybe it's because I'm always looking at someone else."

"That's a possibility." You said in a quiet tone completely unaware how he looked at you while saying that.

The irony of teasing him about his obliviousness and failing to see how deeply in love he is with you is quite funny. Outside eyes are already taking notice of what is happening. Why couldn't you? She's waiting for you to make the first move his mother would say and he prays to god she's right.

For the rest of the night you spent watching a couple more films as the storm outside turns into light drops of rain. It was 2am when you both decided to finally call it a night, after flickering off the TV you cautiously tucked yourself underneath the covers Joe is currently under. There's a generous amount of space between you as you faced away from each other, tension arises as the only sound in the room is the plattering of the rain.

By a slight whisper you wished him a goodnight.

As your body rolls over yet again for the millionth time, you let out a frustrated sigh. Sleep seemed so close yet so far away. You've tried practically every method from counting sheep over the fence to creating fake scenarios, all of which include the man sleeping next to you. And still nothing . This type of restless night drives you crazy, sleeping in an unfamiliar setting causes this and because you can't help but to still process you're sleeping in the same bed as Joe, so your mind couldn't help but wonder.

You kicked majority of the blankets off your body hoping that some coolness would ease your mind into exhaustion. Again, nothing. Feeling completely hopeless you sat up, eyes looking around as if you could make out anything in the pitch darkness the only thing that's visible is the alarm clock on the nightstand that reads 3:30am.

Movement beside you caught your attention as Joe rolls over on his stomach. You couldn't distinguish which direction his head was turned as you laid back down as an idea came to you.

It's worth a shot, hopefully he'll take pity on you.

"Joey?" You whispered.

No response of course, you said it so low you practically mouthed it. You were still debating on whether you should wake him up or not. It's selfish and quite frankly inconsiderate you know this. Especially since you're ruining someone else's good night sleep for you own gain. But you're desperate and can't go to sleep so you call out his name again a bit more louder.

"Joey?" This time you reach over to softly poke at his bare shoulder. Since when did he take off his shirt?

"Yeah?" He responds , in a voice that sounds nothing like he'd just been woken up.

"Are you awake?" You ask , dumb question. Of course he's awake, sounds like he's been up this entire time.

A slight chuckle comes from him. "No, I'm asleep."

"How long have you been up?" You mumbled.

"Since you start fidgeting"

So about an hour. Damn.

"Sorry , I can't go to sleep." You said sheepishly.

Suddenly, there is silence and you believe he has fallen asleep until you feel him shift closer to you. Your back is facing him, and you are so glad it was because you got flustered instantly. He lifted the blankets up and said softly. "C'mere"

Well fuck, there's no way you're going to be getting any sleep tonight.

Without saying a word you shift under his arms, his bare chest pressed against your back as you got situated. A sigh of content escapes you as Joe practically engulfs you in his embrace. He feels so warm,big,and strong. His arm pulls you in tighter which you had no problem with. This is definitely not what best friends do.

What is this?

"Are you comfortable?" He asked you could feel his lip on the shell of your ear and the urge to turn around to lock lips is strong.

Swallowing thickly you nod your head. "I am, didn't think you're the cuddle type Joey."

"M'not but I know you are." He says.

That's true. Almost everyone knows you're a fan of cuddles, so much in fact you sleep with a body pillow at home.

"Well, thank you." You said in a way to be grateful as you trace over the multiple prominent veins on his hand in front of you. You wished to see the size comparsion to your hand and his but you could feel it. So big just like the entirety of him.

You weren't blind you'd seen how Joe has grown into his muscular frame since the Superbowl, the countless workouts really pays off as his arms and chest became more defined. Which you are more than lucky enough to be currently cradled in. Reality hits hard at the situation. Joe is cuddling you right now, full on koala hugging you from behind. You always wondered was it'll be like to be smothered in his arms, close to his body, you never thought you'd see the day.

During your enjoyment of mindlessly playing with his hand, you can feel his heart beating against your back. As if he were nervous or scared. As you furrow your eyebrows, you open your mouth to ask him what's wrong when he grabs your hand and laces it with his.

"I need to tell you something." He says quietly, gripping your hand with firmness.

You tilted your head in his direction with concern. "Everything okay?"

"Not really." He chuckles slightly but it was far from sounding amusing, it was more of a nervy laugh. "You know, I care about you alot. We've been friends since forever and what I'm about to say could possibly ruin that."

"What are you—?"

"I lied earlier," He interrupts causing you to frown.

Lied about what?

"In the car, I told you I was being distant because I didn't want Malik to break your heart." He swallowed heavily, before continuing, "That wasn't entirely true. I just didn't like seeing you with him...or with anybody else."

Time seemed to have slowed down and the air became thicker. Your heartbeat increased, and your stomach twists immediately. However with all those things happening it didn't stop you from uttering out a blatant "W-what?"

It's hard for you to comprehend that he's basically confessing his feelings for you. So long you've hoped and dreamt about this exact moment.

"I want you to be mine and I don't want you to be with anyone else." He sits up leaning on his elbow his other arm is still wrapped around your waist and fingers still laced with yours. "I hate to sound cheesy like those cliché rom coms you make me watch—" He laughs before continuing. "But I'm really in love with you, it's to the point where I can't stop thinking about you."

Happiness bloomed inside you and you felt a sudden flare of relief. Joe—the man you've been in love with—just confessed his feelings. Your heart has been daring to hope that he feels the same way for a while, even though you've convinced yourself that it's not possible.

Holy shit.

"You really love me?" You said gripping his hand tightly.

He leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder. "I do, so much."

"I love you too," You smiled when you heard him a sigh of relief. Your hand slips from his as you reach up to caress his jawline. "I have for a long time actually. Took you long enough."

You feel him smile and lean against your hand. Just when you thought everything couldn't possibly get better, he opens his mouth and asks a question you've been waiting for so long.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?"

The excitement unfolded like a flower as you nodded your head. And before you know it his mouth is on yours. He's passionate and fierce as if he'd been stranded in a desert in need of a drink and you were that cold glass of water he found and drank so desperately. His tongue traces over your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth wasting no time exploring every inch. You moan as his tongue intensifies swirling against yours , while doing so his hand grips your waist holding you against him.

That's when you feel it. The hardness prodding on your lower back, you could feel it through the thin fabric of your t-shirt which had risen dangerously high.

Pulling away, he kisses you from your jaw to your neck, gently sucking while you gasp, wrapping an arm around his neck as you enjoy the feel of his lips. Under the thick blanket, his hips are pressed against yours, keeping you in a state of shock. He felt massive and thick. And you want more of it.

"I want to touch you." His words are muffled due to his never ending kisses on your neck. "Can I touch you? Hm?"

"Yes, please do." As soon as you gave him the go he takes his hand from your waist and travels down to your expose thigh gently massaging it cherishing how soft you feel. You sigh in contentment, eyes fluttering shut when his hand goes underneath your shirt and go upwards to cup your left breast.

Taking you completely by surprise he rubs your breast before trailing back down to the hem of your underwear where he slips fingers inside. You let out a whimper when his fingertips glides over the area you wanted him the most. His body tense when he felt your arousal that was practically soaking his hand. Tiny moans escape your lips as he circles your sensitive clit, your hips immediately start to squirm.

"Keep still." He groans, his forehead dropping down to rest on the back of your shoulder. You weren't aware that the more you squirm the arch in your back goes deeper, essentially grinding your ass against his hardness.

"I can't, not when you're touching me like this." You murmur hand clutching his forearm where you could feel the muscles flexing with every strum that his fingers makes.

"Fuck!"He grunts breathlessly as your hips continues to move. There's no way he going to cum like this as much as you're making him feel absolutely good he was ready to explode at any given moment by the movement of your hips.

He takes his hand out of your underwear much to your dismay letting out a sound of disappointment he quickly repays you with a kiss on the lips before sitting up yanking the covers off the both of you tossing it to the side.

"Roll over on your back for me." He commanded.

You follow his order, finally coming face to face even though you're in almost complete darkness the outline of his body and features were visible to you. The diamonds from his chain certainly stood out as well. He grabs both of your legs and spread the wide getting situated between them.

"Lift up your shirt all the way." He said quietly, almost at a whisper.

You could feel your soul take flight as an unsuspected feeling of realization consumed you. This isn't a dream, Joe is really here in between your thighs ready to fuck you in the most delicious way possible. No amount of words could explain how happy and eager you feel.

When you finished taking off your shirt he wasted no time bending down attaching his lips on your tits, the coldness of his chain grazes your warm skin causing you to shiver. His tongue flicks and licks around the hardness of your nipple before he gently sucks.

"Hmmm Joey." You moan grasping the back of his head, not knowing what felt more good his tongue or the fact his cock is being pressed against your aching pussy.

Another moan escapes from you when he strokes his hips against you rubbing right on your clit and causing you to be blinded by pleasure. His hair tickles your chin when he switches over to your other breast giving it the same attention. It took everything in you to keep your moans at a lower level, still mindful of the fact you're doing this under the same roof as his family. The last thing you wanted is for one of them to come down and interrupted your intimate session. God , you would never show your face again.

Joe detaches his lips with an audible 'pop' leaving your skin glazed and sit up on his knees while his hands grips your underwear and swiftly pulls it down. Lifting up both of your legs together he takes your panties off completely. Now you're on full display, laying there letting him venerate every inch of your body. For some reason you didn't have the urge to shy away or cover up like you did with past lovers ,no, you are ready for him to see and cherish you including the imperfections.

"You have the softest skin. So beautiful." He mumbled lowering his head to kiss by your hips trailing down to your inner thighs peppering extra kisses on your beauty marks. Joe lifts his head up for a moment grabbing a spare pillow handing it over to you. "You might wanna hold on to that, m'not gonna be able to contain myself."

Without giving it a second thought you wrap both arms around the pillow when he hitches both your legs over his shoulder. His mouth is on you in seconds, low groans leaves his lips as he engulfs his tongue over your folds and run it on your clit where he sucks and massages.

"Oh, my god!" Your words muffle due to your mouth on the pillow. And your hips tries to come up from the bed but they don't have the chance because Joe's hand immediately reaches out to slam you back down.

He takes your legs off his shoulders and held them down each flat on the bed, spreaded wide, his hand on holding down your thighs firmly. The intrusion of his tongue slipping inside you takes you by surprise, a loud raw moan wanted to desperately get out but all you could muster up is a whimper. Eyes closing shut, your legs started to shake at the intense pleasure.

Messy smacking and slurping noise could be heard underneath your heavy breathing, the way he's eating you is borderline sensual yet unhinged. He left no parts untouched, you could feel wetness pool beneath you. Which turns you on even more.

A familiar heat is burning inside at the pit of your stomach and you knew that it'll only be a matter of time you gush out your release.

"M' gonna cum." You sob out in a whisper, twisting your upper body to the side slightly.

Joe pulls away yet again and you swore you were seconds away from reaching down to finish yourself off. However when Joe releases his hold on you and reaches down to take off his sweatpants that idea is immediately gone.

He carries a throbbing cock beneath the thin happy trail; it slaps against the lower abdomen where a prominent vein runs from his tip to his thick shift. There is no way you could deny that you are a little intimidated; the sheer size of him had you gulping.

He settles back in between your thighs, this time lifting your left leg on his shoulder. That's when he notices it, the diamond peice anklet, a smile adorns his face when he pressed a kiss on your ankle. His eyes focuses back on you drinking in your needy state, the pillow he gave you is clenched in your grip with anticipation.

Not wanting for you to wait any longer, he spits loudly into his palm before wrapping around his hand around his length, slick noise of the sound of him jerking could be heard.

Gripping your left leg as your right curls around his waist, he aligned his tip to meet your seeping wet entrance you shuddered feeling a slightly burn from being stretched out.

"It's okay, take a deep breath for me, you gotta relax" He assures you noticing the way your muscles tensed. The last thing he want is for you to be uncomfortable.

You force your eyes to be transfixed on the digital clock on the nightstand as you focus on taking deep breaths for a few seconds. Once it became tolerable and no longer confining he involuntary pushes his hips forward going deeper. As soon as he did that you tighten around him. His face contorts into an expression of pleasure, pressure on your thigh is coming from his hand that grips it tightly. You can tell he was holding himself back from fully pounding into you relentlessly.

His thrusts are slow and impactful. Moans after moans continues to leave your lips.

"Faster Joey, I want you to go faster." You said mindlessly body jerking up at every stroke of his hips.

"You sure?" He asks.

You nodded before he presses his lips together and took hold of your waist when he slams into hard and fast. Your left leg is still on his shoulder when he leans down to lock his lips with yours silencing your moans. The pillow you were gripping is tossed to the side as you find stability in clutching on to Joe's biceps, digging your nails into his skin.

"Fuck Joey!" You cried out as his tip kept hitting your sweet spot. Faint sounds of skin smacking filled the air along with the sound of your wetness. "O-oh my g-god, you feel so good!"

"You like that baby?" He asked, his chain is brushing against your chin with every stroke.

"Mmhmm, I love you so much." Eyes rolling to the back of your head at the constant pleasure, he fucks you even harder thrust filled with passion. You were on the brink of letting out a scream of pleasure, stopping you from doing so you leaned and sink your teeth into his shoulder.

You can feel your stomach tighten when you felt a strong deep pleasure within. A surge ready to be released.

"Cum for me, just let go." He reaches his hand down and plays with your clit. You let out a mixture of a whimper and sob, your back arching, legs still, eyes fluttering, and jaw slack. The feeling you're experiencing felt otherworldly, it has you in disbelief. He fucks you through it nicely with slowed thrusts before pulling out, your left leg slips off his shoulder and lies limp.

"Oh my god." You breathed out placing a hand on your temple as you try to find your train of thought. He quite literally fucked you stupid.

"You still with me?" The corner of his mouth curls up into a smile. A hum in response is all he got. Once you have officially recovered, he orders you to lie on your side. Confused, you turn to the right facing the direction you were in earlier. As Joe kneels in between your legs, he straddles your right thigh and lifts your left leg to curl around his left hip. Almost before you can process the position, he enters you and starts to devour you.

Your tits bounces rapidly at his merciless hips slam into you over and over again. It wasn't long before they're being groped by Joe who pants heavily above you, a low moan coming from him occasionally.

He hovers over your quivering body with a bruising grip on your hips. His pace is sharp, quick, and so deep you felt dizzy with never ending pleasure as your sensitive body takes in everything that he's giving to you.

"J—mhgh" You couldn't fathom any coherent words as you began to feel overstimulated. This position he has you in makes you feel like you're being fucked beyond your limits.

Joe notices your hands blindly searching for anything to cling to and releases your breasts from his hold. His hands completely engulfs yours as he laces them back together place them on either side of your head.

A couple more thrusts followed and you've approached your second orgasm. Way more intense than the first , so intense you've made a mess on Joe's lower stomach matting down his happy trail and coating the both of you with your essence.

"Shit," He grunts out feeling the aftermath of your orgasm, pace becoming sloppy as he's rapidly approaching his release. He pulls out abruptly ready to fist his soaking cock when you stopped him.

"I wanna do it." You said sitting up he was still straddling your leg as you reach down to stroke him.

"Fuck fuck fuck" He chants, head leaning forward to rest against your shoulder. He moans your name as his release hits, lips connecting with yours when he's spilling multiple spurts on your hand and even on your chest.

With a sigh you both shared a lazy kiss before plopping down next to each other. There is a moment of contentment instilled in your heart during this time, and you remain there for a moment. Enjoying the presence of the man who just took you into a different realm. It wasn't long before the moisture and stickiness on your skin became a discomfort.

Taking a deep breath you slowly eased out of bed. When your feet planted on the floor your legs buckles slightly.

You hear Joe chuckle in amusement. "Take it easy, huh? Where you going?"

"Shut up, I'm headed to the shower." You blushed holding on to the bed post.

He stands up and walks over to you with a glint in his eye. "I take it you got room for one more?"

Taglist:

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If you want to be apart of the taglist dm me babes!

[bunnysbrainrot]

Size Matters

Kinktober Prompt: Size kink

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual scenes, oral (f receiving), creampie (wrap it up, kids), dirty talk, rough sex, dom Sam, fluffy/funny aftercare (it’s crucial)

Summary: Your plan for making the boys dinner goes awry, leaving you alone with Sam in his bedroom, and coming to terms with a kink that only Sam Winchester can fulfill.

A/N: 🤭

"C'mon,' you strain, reaching for a high shelf in the cabinet. Apparently Sam and Dean didn't find a need for a stepladder in the bunker. Your calves screech in protest as you reach for a jar of pasta sauce, your fingers brush the bottle, but not enough purchase to grab it.

A long arm reaches above your head, grabbing the sauce in a large, familiar hand. Sam hands you the jar with a smile.

You took it from his hands and chide, "Not everyone's as vertically gifted as you and your brother, you know. Y'could be more inclusive and invest in a stepstool."

He leans against the counter you'd been setting ingredients on. Sam's eyes scan over your form as you open the pasta sauce.

"You know you can ask us for help, right?"

"I was gonna make dinner for us, I didn't want to make you guys help me," you reply Sam stands fully now and looks over your shoulder. You crane your neck to look up at him, "How's the weather up there?"

Sam chuckles lightly, "You know, I could tease you about your height. It'd be pretty easy."

You turn back to the counter and place freshly-washed vegetables on a cutting board. Unsheathing a knife from the knife block, you keep conversation with Sam.

"I don't have a problem with being short," you bump your hip sideways into Sam's leg. He does the same to you, except the direct strike in the ribs knocks you off balance, stumbling over.

He's able to snatch you up to safety before you bust your ass on the floor. Now cradled in Sam's arms, a rush of comfort comes over you in his stable grip. His hands catch your waist, with his long fingers spreading broad across your torso. Fuck, together they could probably go around most of your waist, and those fingers...

You snap out of your stupor to find Sam smiling down at you. His eyes linger on yours long enough for your mind to wander, wondering who would lean in first. Stolen glances at each other's lips, hitched breath, low-lidded eyes, it was a perfect concoction for Sam to kiss you.

Beneath him, you're so delicate in his arms, as if you'll break if he isn't careful. It was in his own reflexes to catch you, but the feelings that rushed through him afterwards were something deeper. Almost instinctive that in any moment with you like this, hushed and ogling, would lead to something more. Forget dinner, he thought, he could just order something for delivery.

At least, after he's done with you.

"Sam," you whisper. Maybe you hadn't been paying attention, but his face is now just inches from your own.

He finds himself leaned over further, close enough to share the same air, breaths mixing.

You smile nervously, and to your relief Sam gives one of his own. But he doesn't break away - doesn't help you to your feet to cut vegetables for the dinner you were kindly making for him. It couldn't matter much now that he's holding you like this.

"Sorry," he replies, barely audible. You wave your hands in dismissal and place them around his neck. The air shifts as the movement brings you ever closer, your lips no more than three inches away from Sam's.

"It's okay," you whisper. Soft, hazel eyes wander over your face and flicker to your lips, seemingly stuck there until Sam takes a risk he'd been waiting for.

Relief washes over you when his lips meet yours. After all this time, it turns out that he had the guts to break this tension, and everything that had been bottled up could now overflow. You let a deep hunger overtake your body, purely going on instinct as Sam embraces you. Sam sighs into your kiss and swallows a moan it drew from your throat, whiny and eager.

Sam nips at your bottom lip, tugging at it tentatively with his teeth. You do the same in response, only harder. Testing the waters. Usually a dangerous game, especially with a Winchester.

Your hands had made their way to his broad shoulders - his lean muscles flexing and stretching as he moves his hands over you, meandering from your waist, spanning from your shoulder blades to the top of your ass. His fingers toy with the fabric of your clothes, like he was trying to unwrap a present too early and didn't want to rip the packaging.

“Not here,” Sam says, his words slurring like a love-drunk fool, “Can’t do this here.”

He breaks the kiss and leaves you panting for more; there's a new darkness in his stare, one that makes you shudder. You give him a smile, wiggling in his grip to the pasta sauce jar, and shut it closed.

“What about dinner?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You seem like you have other plans.”

He was caught red handed, but you weren’t declining the advances. If anything you spurred them on as much as he did.

Sam slowly releases you from his grip, setting you stably on your feet. Not once have his eyes left you, even if you weren’t paying attention - Sam was set on this goal, you’d given him the ‘yes’ he needed, and he intended to make good on his commitment.

Patience was wearing thin for Sam. He ogles at the sight of you bent at the waist, putting the pasta sauce and veggies back in the fridge. The curve of your ass sucks him in whole, as if there were nothing else in the room.

A hand settles on your ass from behind, cupping and kneading gently. You let out a shuddering exhale before standing and turning to Sam.

The softness of your voice surprises you, “Where do you want me?”

The ball was in his court. Sam looks you over coolly, his hands kept to themselves in his pants pockets. Your eyes drift lower and pause on the large bulge in Sam’s pants, straining slightly against his thick jeans.

“My bedroom,” he said plainly.

—

There was little time to brace yourself for Sam’s next move. You're pressed against the wall before you can protest, although you wouldn’t dare object to this.

Sam grips the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, wedging your hips with his own, keeping you steady. A new hardness presses against your core as Sam juts his hips into you, pure instinct taking over his movements. His cock twitches in his jeans - he needs to watch his cock sink into you, to watch your face contort in bliss when he bottoms out in your pussy.

There was nothing small about Sam Winchester - he's a Goliath of a man, towering over you at any given time, with thick broad muscles that send a rushing heat to your sex. If your intrusive thoughts ever won, you were sure he could toss you around like it was nothing.

But now, you didn’t have much choice but to stay pinned to the wall, where you and Sam both grind your hips desperately, letting out lilted moans and grunts against each other’s skin.

The friction on your swelling clit was rough and warm, with Sam's cock perfectly nestled atop your drenched slit. Each rough push shot pleasure through your core, but it wasn’t enough for your aching cunt.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he emphasized. You shook your head at him. You wouldn’t break so easily, but if anyone were to shatter you apart, it could happily be Sam.

Your lips found his ear, after staining yourself up his long torso, “I’m not gonna break that easily, don’t worry.”

“Oh, yeah?” his voice deepened as his lips found your neck, eagerly nipping at your skin and making you whine. "Let's test that theory."

You gripped the hem of your shirt and shimmied it over your head, casting it to the floor carelessly.

Sam’s eyes trail over your chest, still beautifully bound by your bra. Their softness served as an undeniable invitation for his mouth to lower. He dips his head to greedily nip and suckle at the supple skin, leaving red and purple splotches in his wake.

You grip at his hair, urgently tugging him closer, as if the direct contact could never be enough to satisfy. Each of your soft moans is echoed with a low groan from Sam’s chest. He had doubled over, completely encapsulating you in his clean scent, now thick with a lustful musk.

Two fingers found the band of your bra, unclipping it with the utmost ease, and cast it to the floor with your shirt. Through panting breaths, Sam works off his shirt, though his lips have no hesitation to return to your exposed chest, and found a pebbled nipple between his teeth, rolling and biting to bring out a symphony of moans from the both of you.

Your hands lunged for the waistband of your pants. Sam took notice and sighs happily against your skin, his warm breath like a gentle wave across everything you'd exposed to him. Above you, Sam grew more unhinged with each passing second, grabbing and biting and kneading your flesh like a man starved.

Sam's lips capture yours once more in a tangle of tongues and teeth, exploring one another as if it was your only chance to do so. His tongue grazed the roof of your mouth, swallowing a deep moan that erupts from deep within your chest. He assesses your position and grows frustrated. It would be difficult to remove your, or his, pants without risking dropping you to the floor.

As quickly as you'd been slammed into the wall, Sam tosses you onto his bed, but stays standing at its foot, his hands reaching for his belt buckle. All else in the room vanished as you watch him remove the thick denim, shoving it down his legs to the floor. His cock strained against his boxers, throbbing and twitching to be free.

"Those," Sam nodded his head to your pants, "off."

The sudden dominance springs you into action. Your hands fly to your waistband and wiggle them off of your hips, down your thighs, and kick them away. Your soaked panties act as your final barrier, barring you from what you so badly needed.

Sam returns to his hunched position over you, letting his hands rove over your exposed thighs and ass, pawing at you greedily. You reach down to the band of his boxers, and slip your fingers under the elastic, inching them down until you felt a resistance against it - Sam's cock fights against the removal, straining your short arms until Sam reaches down to aid you.

The head of his cock springs up to smack against your covered core. You gasp softly at its warmth, your neglected cunt tightens around nothing of substance, an empty hole aching to be filled with something substantial.

"Feel." This was Sam's only order as he tugs your hand down to his length, coaxing you to wrap your small fingers around the middle of his shaft.

He's thick and warm against your palm, with a thick vein creeping up its underside to the tip. Your mouth waters at the way his cock twitches eagerly in your hand, and you slowly begin to pump along his length, making Sam hiss through his teeth.

Sam's voice is lower than you'd ever heard; it sends a heat directly to your teased pussy, now bracing against the base of Sam's cock. Its length covers most of your abdomen, casting your body in its silhouette in the dim lamplight of the room.

"Jesus..." he remarks wistfully, trailing a free hand up to his tip, pressing into the soft flesh of your belly.

Beneath him like this, Sam can finally see the scale of his cock to your insides, mapping out precisely where he'll settle inside of you. You whine softly as his cock drags another stroke over your soaked folds - the abrasion from your underwear was no longer tantalizing, but rather a nuisance.

His breathing becomes ragged, "I need to taste you."

The words shudder through you as Sam's lips work through the valley of your breasts, showering kisses along your middle, and finally he settles between your thighs. Sam places a kiss atop your clit, still kept out of sight by your soaked panties. Two fingers hook into the waistband and tug downward, sliding the soiled garment off of your shaky legs and to the floor behind him.

Cold air strikes your slit as Sam pries it open with two thick fingers, teasing at your aching hole, spreading the wetness around your cunt.

"Are you always this wet when you think about me?" his voice tremors through you. You nod quietly and hold your breath as Sam's head dips lower. All you can see is his rich brown hair cascading over your belly before warmth spread through your core, leaving you moaning at his first touch.

With the way his tongue teased at your clit, Sam may as well have set you ablaze. Your skin radiated a warmth unlike no other, rolling in waves as the cold of the air shocked your most sensitive areas.

"Sam," you whine, carding your fingers through his soft locks. You tug on him gently to push him further.

He pays no mind to your plea, and instead wraps his toned arms under your thighs, pulling your pussy flush against his thick tongue. It flicks your clit perfectly, and pairs with his lips as he suckles on the sweet bundle of nerves.

The taste of you makes Sam groan, his cock straining against the mattress beneath him. Above him, your moans and cries are a siren song, calling him to the bottomless sea of his desire. He pictures what lies ahead - you, sprawled on the bed, blissed out from his tongue and cock, sated and sleepy from a relentless pounding.

That image is pasted in his mind as he laps at your cunt, occasionally dipping his tongue into your tight entrance, and tasting your innermost parts. You arch your back at his touch, sighing his name like a prayer. His restless tongue toys with your hardening clit as pressure builds in your belly.

Sam creates a rhythm on your clit that sends you unfurling under his touch, mewling and whining and moaning slurred versions of Sam and please and need you. But he refuses to give more. Not until he can taste your release directly on his tongue.

The tightness in your belly snaps, breaking you apart until you're crying Sam's name against your hand, clasped firmly against your mouth. His tongue lolls over your clit even still, skyrocketing the shockwaves of the orgasm and making you whimper. Your slick coats his tongue and fills Sam's senses. All there is is you, your sounds, and your delicious cunt.

"Fuck," mumbles Sam, his voice reverberating through your convulsing sex, clamping down onto nothing.

You whine in response. All thought and sense had escaped your mind, now shattered and cast off to a void in the back of your mind. Sam laps up your juices and swallows, savoring every last drop your body had to offer.

The cold air of the room kisses your exposed cunt as Sam rises to his knees, his heavy cock bobbing above your abdomen.

"So small," he remarks, lining his cock over your stomach and admiring just how much of your body he'd overtake.

You'd surely be sore for days afterward, which sent a flush of pride through his chest. His cock ached to carve you hollow - to leave you gaping after a thorough fucking, to shape your pussy perfectly for him.

His hips rear back as he positions himself with your wet hole, shining with your slick, beckoning him inside. Sam's eyes meet yours when he notches the head of his cock past your entrance, surveying your expressions as he slowly filled you out. The girth of his cock could practically split you down your middle, stretching your little pussy to wrap perfectly around his shaft.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," Sam groans, ogling at his own cock as it spread your pussy open. His hands press against the backs of your thighs and push them toward your chest, angling himself so the both of you could share the view.

He sighs, "Look at that - such a big cock, stretching out your tiny pussy, just for me."

Astonishment, teasing, and lust filled his tone, and something else. Something more primal that has your walls fluttering around Sam's cock.

You gape at the sight of his cock entering you, and you finally come to terms with exactly just how big he is. Your pussy is stretched blissfully wide, swallowing his length with earnest. Sam slams his hips and strikes deep, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix.

Each thrust is harsher than the last and all you can do is stare at the brutality your pussy is being subjected to. You cry out as Sam's cock crashes into you, every time, without fail.

At this point, there's no hiding the reality of what's behind Sam's bedroom door. If Dean, or anyone else, heard you, let them. Bliss overcomes your senses and dulls all rationality in your muddled mind.

There is nothing else that matters - just the overwhelming size of Sam Winchester and his remarkable cock.

He whispers your name like a summons, meeting his eyes with yours as he presses your body into the mattress. A hand presses into your tummy. Sam gasps softly and takes your hand to replace his own.

"Feel that?" his purrs, pressing onto your hand to deliver some pressure. As he thrusts in you can feel a shift in your insides, until you feel a firm strike of the head of his cock against you palm.

You look to him with wide eyes and find a wicked smile plastered on his face.

Sam crouches over you, enveloping you with his large size, encasing your body with his. He leans toward your ear, "Can you feel it up here, baby? Because I can. I can feel how tiny your cunt is before I go in and stretch it out."

He pushes deeper, to let you really feel it, "I can feel how you try to fit me, and how just tight you're getting, 'cause you're gonna cum, aren't you?"

A dumb nod follows his question, making his grin widen across his lips. No words form on your lips, only shaky wanton moans reply to his commentary.

"I know, sweetheart, feels good," Sam coos, slowing down his movements to draw out a raw cry from your throat. His cock drags through your walls until its head is all that remains, and slams in harshly.

Your cry is on the verge of a scream, but Sam does not relent. There is no plea to stop or slow down, because this is all you'd been dreaming of - to feel a comforting helplessness under someone far larger, to be at their disposal and usage.

A growl leaves his throat, "So fucking small... I bet you feel like you could break, huh? With my cock this deep inside you, your little pussy can barely take any more, can it?"

Your walls clench around him in reply, pulling Sam in deeper until his balls slap against your ass, now pairing with the obscene squelching of your abused pussy.

Between the lilting moans and quieted pleas from your perfect mouth, Sam issn't sure how much longer he can last. He vows to himself that he will not give in to it yet, not until he feels it. He needs to feel the way you wrap around his cock when you cum.

He needs to be the reason you finish, this time and each orgasm after.

"You've been waiting for this. You've wanted this the whole time - someone big and strong to pound your little pussy 'til you can't stand. Because you want a thick cock splitting you open." Sam stammers through the last few words - his own comments are bringing him closer to the brink, but you've already reached yours.

You shudder around him harshly as your orgasm hits you full-force, leaving you no room to ride it out as Sam's pace quickens. His breath hitches at the sensations flowing through his throbbing length - he hisses when you clench around his sensitive tip, leaving his gasping as he fucks you faster. Harder. Deeper.

His cock plunges into your cunt, hitting that same spot in your tummy as he mentioned before. Sam's hand presses against your abdomen, adding a glorious pressure that has you climaxing again in a matter or seconds.

"Thaaaat's it, attagirl," he encourages. "Such a tight little cunt, but she takes me so well."

The words flow through you like fire, sending you over the brink once again and leaving you whimpering beneath him. Sam smirks, knowing he's doing his job right, he has you exactly where he wants you, pinned, helpless, and impossibly full.

"Please... S-Sam," you whisper.

He laughs, pounding you so roughly you can barely brace for the slam against your cervix, "Can't handle it, can you, baby? I thought you said you don't break easily."

Your soft cries reach his ears as you slip into that thoughtless void of your mind, moaning with each strike.

Sam's lips brush over the shell of your ear, "You think you're so strong, but I'll break you. I'll have your cunt so bruised you can't think about anything else - only me, because this pussy is mine, do you understand?"

A reply doesn't come, only the sounds of your moans fill his ears. Sam delivers a harsh slap to your ass, thrusting his cock as deep as he could manage. You let out a long moan but still don't reply.

"Who's pussy is this?"

The words form on your lips and fall out feebly, "Y-yours."

He kisses your forehead, but does not let his hips falter, "That's right, angel. All mine."

Pressure builds in his abdomen, his balls growing tight as his own release crept up from behind. Sam nips at your earlobe, his words clang through you with a primal desire.

"And since this pussy's mine, I'm going to fill it."

The swift relentless pace resumes, crashing into your hips to verge on soreness, your tight cunt still wrapping perfectly around him, and Sam's name falling past your slacked mouth. Sam's eyes screw shut as his own orgasm finally approaches, and his cock begins to twitch.

He unsheathes his cock from your warm walls, aiming directly at your now gaping pussy. Sam pumps himself fervently as his cum spurts from his cock, right into your stretched hole. You stare in awe as his cum seeps into your cunt, the angle of your hips inviting it all in.

Sam hisses, "Keep it all in there."

You pant as you try to recover yourself, but Sam plunges his cock into you again, making you let out a low, drawn-out moan. He strikes as deeply as before, his movements are urgent, borderline predatory, insistent to have you bred nicely.

"Keep it in there, and don't you dare fucking waste it."

His movements start to slow - the thrusts are languid and gentle until Sam finally pulls himself out of your abused pussy. He grips your thighs and lowers them until you can finally breathe freely again, gasping in the cool, refreshing air.

"There you go. Deep breaths, honey," Sam coaxes, running his hands along your sore hips, massaging gently into the aching flesh. You do as you're advised and calm your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Sam did the same until he slumped into the mattress next to you, groaning into the sheets.

You smile lazily at him, "You okay over there?"

Sam nods into the bed, still letting out a low groan, "Y'fuckin' drained me."

Pride wells in your chest. You giggle at him, earning you a playful slap on your thigh. Your giggle turns into a hearty laugh before you nestle next to Sam, eyes fluttering shut with fatigue. He takes notice and nudges you.

"Bathroom, no UTI's for us today."

You retort, "Sam, I don't think I can even walk properly right now."

He shifts and rises from the bed, scooping you into his arms and lifting you to his chest. Your laughs echo around the room as Sam Winchester takes you to the bathroom, ever the gentleman.

Hi! Thank you all for your patience as i get out of my lil' brain funk. I hope you enjoyed!

If you liked this fic, reblog to show others! Who cares if we're depraved little animals?? don't you just wanna go apeshit???

anyways ily, and i hope this fic gets the love it needs cause i had a wonderful time writing it >:3

[mypoisonedvine]

80, 86, and 102 for Eddie munson please?? :)

80. “i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know.”

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

102 “don’t cover your face, i want to see you”

warnings: smut (18+ only, oral f receiving, unprotected penetrative sex), enemies to lovers (or, enemies that are also lovers, aka hatefucking), cheating (reader is dating someone else), bullying, angst, mild violence (a punch)

word count: 4.8k

You couldn't even focus in class with him sitting behind you. You knew he was going to do something to bother you, distract you, irritate you-- anything to get your attention and get on your nerves. Yeah, that was why you couldn't focus. Not because you couldn't stop wondering if he was looking at you, or if your hair looked good in case he was looking at you, or because just the smell of him drove you crazy. No, it wasn't any of that; it was because you were anticipating that he was going to do something to bug you. He always did.

"Psst, hey," he hissed under his breath when the teacher turned her back. You ignored him at first, simply rolling your eyes, but he kept leaning out of his chair and if she turned around now, you'd both get in trouble.

"What?" you returned in a harsh whisper.

"Are you okay?"

You wrinkled your eyebrows together. What was he doing asking you something like that? You looked at him, something you'd been avoiding, and god he had such a punchable face. And grabbable hair. And kissable lips, and--

"Seriously, are you okay?" he insisted. "How are you not in horrible pain right now?"

"Huh?" you frowned. "Why would I be in horrible pain?"

"Cause sitting like that must be pretty uncomfortable-- with the stick up your ass and all," he smirked.

His friend sitting behind him snorted out a laugh, and you rolled your eyes so hard it made your vision blurry for a second. "Jeez, Ed, have you been saving that one for a special occasion? It's so creative. Maybe you should put that genius writing skill into your essay so you can finally pass this painfully easy class."

"Maybe you should work on your essay," he returned, "if you're willing to take a break from writing Mrs. Michael Robinson all over your notebook with hearts over the 'i's."

You shook your head and looked down at your book again, hoping to at least appear like you were paying attention. Eddie hated you because he hated your boyfriend. Well, he hated you independently, too, because you and your boyfriend actually got along-- he couldn't stand that you were popular and happy and that Michael was on the basketball team.

"You're just jealous," you insisted, like you had a thousand times.

"What, of your snobby boyfriend?" Eddie dismissed with an eyeroll of his own.

"No," you grinned proudly. "Of the stick up my ass."

His smile faltered for a second; busted.

"Mister Munson!" Ms. O'Donnell snapped, making both of you look up at her. Of course, you'd been sitting quietly in your seat when she turned around, but Eddie had been leaning halfway out of his to whisper to you. You fought down a smile as she glared at him. "Do I need to remind you again not to bother your other classmates?"

"S-Sorry, ma'am," he mumbled. "I was just--"

"You can tell your story in detention," she sneered, "because I'm not interested in it."

Eddie shot you a glare just before he stood up from his chair. You gave him a little smile and playful wave as he started to gather his things.

Impulsively, you tore a strip of paper out of your notebook and wrote on it quickly. As he started to leave, you slipped the paper in his pocket; he gave you a look with a raised eyebrow. "A little reading material for detention," you explained softly.

He shrugged and threw his backpack on over his shoulder, heading for the front of the classroom and disappearing out the door.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, now you had no excuse to goof off in this class...

~

You were at your locker, checking your lip gloss in the mirror inside the door, when Eddie appeared behind you in the reflection-- he was shooting daggers at you with his eyes, and you smiled proudly as you turned to face him.

"Hey, freak," you greeted, tilting your head and crossing your arms. "How was detention?"

"You think this is funny?" he snarled as he pulled the crumpled up slip of paper from his pocket; he unfurled it and held it right up to your face, where you saw your writing right in front of you.

I'm not wearing any panties... just thought you'd like to know. With the 'i's dotted with hearts, naturally.

You snatched the paper from his hand with a frown. "Someone might see," you warned.

"Yeah, wanna bet?" he scoffed, his lip twitching for a second with visible rage. Oh god, he looked so sexy like this; you loved making him angry. It didn't help that it was so goddamn easy. "Are you..." he lowered his voice, looking around before leaning in to make sure no one nearby could hear, "are you really not wearing any...?"

You shrugged. "Wouldn't you like to know..."

"Oh, c'mon, baby--" he choked, and you felt your heart pound because he'd never called you that at school before... all your confidence fell in a moment, and you felt your eyes flutter as you reached up to rub the back of your neck shyly.

Just then, Michael appeared beside you, draping his arm over your shoulders. You straightened up, trying to compose yourself, as did Eddie. "Hey, it's the freak bothering my girlfriend again," Michael observed. "Could you just leave her alone? She doesn't want anything to do with you, man."

"What trouble is it if she and I wanna have a conversation, huh?" Eddie challenged. "What's the harm in that? We're grown, we can talk-- doesn't seem like it's any of your business."

"It's my business because you're creeping on my girl," Michael explained. "She told me you make her uncomfortable, won't leave her alone, trying to make a move when she told you she's not interested--"

Eddie looked at you for a second, and you looked away; you couldn't take it, the hurt in his expression. "Did you tell him that?" Eddie asked you, genuinely. You were going to speak up for yourself, say that you did say that but try to mitigate it, but Michael spoke first.

"Yeah, and you know what else?" he continued. "She told me your little club is actually a bunch of devil-worshippers. So, I don't want you around her, trying to curse her or-- or trick her into doing some freaky shit with your demonic spells or whatever."

Eddie swallowed, looking at you angrily one more time before returning to staring down your boyfriend. "You know what, Robinson? You don't have to worry about me talking to your girl. I wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole."

"I promise, the feeling's mutual," Michael shot back as Eddie turned on his heel and walked away. You felt guilt curl in your gut, but as much as you wanted to chase after him and apologize, Michael was already tightening his grip on your shoulder. "Hopefully that guy leaves you alone for good this time," he said.

"Yeah..." you sighed. "Let's hope so."

~

You waited, sitting on the wooden table with your feet on the bench, bouncing your knee anxiously. It was getting pretty dark, and cold, and your little cardigan wasn't doing much for you anymore. You kept glancing around the treeline, but you'd already given up; you knew he wasn't coming. You and Eddie usually met here, somewhere that no one would see the two of you together, but after how hard you'd burned him today, you were pretty sure he'd never--

"Hey," you heard a voice from the other side of the table, and you whipped around to see Eddie there, pushing his hair back with one of his hands.

"Oh," you jumped, "uh-- I didn't think you were coming."

"You know I can't stay away very long," he chuckled thinly, a sadness to his tone. "Even when you really, really piss me off..."

"Listen, what Michael said before--" you began.

"No, hey, don't sweat it," he shrugged, hopping up over the table to sit beside you. "Say whatever you need to to keep him off our scent, I guess. I mean, it's working-- everybody at school knows you wouldn't be caught dead with me."

You glanced away again, shivering with guilt-- well, it was sort of from the cold night air, too, but mainly it was guilt.

"Need me to warm you up?" he purred, wrapping an arm around you and leaning into kiss your neck. It was simple enough, but it worked; you relaxed into him right away, sighing as you felt his warm breath and wet tongue tease your skin.

"Eddie," you whimpered. "Don't tease me too much-- been waiting too long for this..."

"Mm, but that's not very fair, is it?" he noticed. "Not after you teased me today. That little note of yours had me fighting off a boner the rest of the day. I wasn't allowed to leave detention long enough to jerk off in the bathroom or anything."

You chuckled proudly, imagining Eddie trying to hide a massive bulge in his jeans while waiting in the principal's office. God, that was actually pretty hot...

"Is it true?" he asked, quieter. "Are you not wearing panties?"

You giggled and nodded, hearing him groan lowly as he put his hand on your leg, moving up higher under your skirt. You both moaned a little when his fingers met your pussy, already hot and soaking for him.

"Fuck, baby," he purred. "Does your boyfriend know?"

You shook your head, and he growled, leaning back onto the creaky wooden table and pulling you on top of him. "It was just for you, Eddie," you smiled, loving the way he bared his teeth when you said it. "Plus, they're pretty hard to put on, considering the stick in my ass."

He snorted a laugh.

"I mean, that was weak, dude, even for you," you scolded.

"Okay, okay!" he raised his shoulders defensively. "So I'm not as good at being mean as you are. But you know what I am good at?"

He pulled you down into him and kissed you passionately, slipping his tongue into your mouth right away; and you let him, because you couldn't help yourself. He was a really good kisser, he made your body melt with just the slightest brush of his lips on yours, he made your knees weak and your pussy drip. Worst part of all was that he knew all of that, and used it against you constantly.

"Gettin' needy, baby?" he whispered into the kiss, and you realized that you'd been moaning into his mouth without even meaning to. You nodded, and you felt him smile against you. "Well, come on, then-- don't be shy now, get up here and sit on my face."

You weren't very shy with Eddie, that's for sure; you were shameless. He made you feel too good to act innocent or coy at this point.

Breaking the kiss and sitting up, you climbed over him until your hips hovered over his face. You couldn't see his face well with your skirt in the way, but you heard him growl just before he grabbed your hips and pulled you down right onto his mouth.

Instantly, you moaned; his tongue lapped at you roughly, just the right mix of pressure to get your hips rocking right away. With a tight grip on your thighs-- tight enough to leave bruises you were going to have to explain somehow to Michael later-- he kept you from moving too much so he could taste you exactly how he wanted.

"Eddie, fuck," you groaned, reaching down to grab onto his hair. He circled around his tongue around your clit a few times before finally sucking on it, and you struggled not to sob out loud.

This was the only time he wasn't talkative; he normally liked to say all kinds of shit, but with his mouth full, all you heard were his little moans here and there, his heavy breathing through his nose, and the filthy slurping sounds he made as he sucked on your clit and thrust his tongue inside you.

"F-fuck, yes," you whimpered, letting your head fall back. "Yes, Eddie, just like that-- oh god--"

You could feel him smiling. Smug bastard. Say what you will about Eddie Munson, but when the man heard just like that, he knew how to keep doing exactly that to push you closer to the edge as fast as possible. Of course, knowing that he could do what he was told only made it more frustrating when he didn't.

"Fuck, please, please," you begged when he returned to his slow exploration of your folds. "I told you not to tease me, Ed, please? Please-- just wanna come..."

"Mhm?" he mumbled, sort of the only thing he could say while he was down there.

"Please!" you shouted again. "C'mon, Eddie, you know how bad I need you... I-I need you to make me come. I'm sorry for all that stuff I said, I just-- I was afraid he'd figure it out. I was afraid that he could see it all over my face, how much I--"

How much I love you.

"How much I think about you," you blurted out instead. "I swear, Ed, I never stop thinking about it-- and I'm so close already, all cause'a you, c'mon, please? Please just let me come..."

Feeling him smile again, he moved his hands up to grab your waist and returned to his faster pace, doing exactly what you needed him to to send you speeding towards the precipice of pleasure.

"Ohhhh fuck, thank you," you sobbed, "thank you, hng I'm gonna come-- you're gonna make me come, Eddie, fuck-- fuck!"

You tightened your fists in his mess of hair, your insides clenching tight on his tongue as the first wave of ecstasy hit you; you made a high-pitched noise, nearly a scream, and threw your head back. Your hips wanted to rock on his face more than anything, but his strong hands held you still and forced you to take everything head-on. Literally, since he was giving you head.

"Yes, yes!" you whimpered, toes curling inside your sneakers; it became too much all at once, and you bucked wildly as your body lost control. He finally stopped, moving your hips back, and his face popped out from under your skirt with a wide, glistening grin.

"God, you're too easy, baby," he sighed. "I was gonna tease you longer, really draw it out, but you just begged so sweet for me... like I said, I'm not very good at being mean."

"Want me to return the favor?" you offered, even though he wouldn't come quite as quickly as you did-- well, maybe he would, if he'd actually been hard since third period.

"No, fuck no," he breathed, shaking his head, and you wrinkled your eyebrows together. "No, baby, not now-- I need to be inside you."

In an instant, he'd grabbed you and flipped you onto your back, hovering over you as he made quick work of his belt. "Did you bring a condom?" you asked.

"No," he answered quickly, already pulling his cock out and pressing it up to your hole; he knew you weren't going to make him wear one, not after a few weeks ago when he begged you to let him put it in raw, 'just for a second, babe, I swear', only for both of you to become addicted to the feeling and end up totally unable to stop. Of course it was better for him, but you were surprised at how different it felt for you-- at how much your body craved to feel him with nothing in the way.

You still used condoms with your boyfriend; he didn't even know you'd gotten on the pill. You figured that was part of the appeal for Eddie, too, knowing he was the only one who got to feel you like this.

A moan caught in your throat as Eddie slipped inside you; even with how wet you were, it was still a bit of a stretch to take him. He always gave you a few seconds to adjust, but never quite long enough-- because he liked watching you struggle for a second. "Fuck," he breathed, "I almost forgot... how perfect you feel. Jesus..."

"Fuck me," you begged, "please."

He certainly didn't need to be told twice, and in a moment he was thrusting into you fast and desperately. "Oh, baby," he praised, leaning down over you and letting his head hang limp by your shoulder, "this is all I was thinking about in detention. Thinking about you spreading your legs for me... thinking about fucking your pretty hole open. Thinking about-- fuck, uh-- thinking about coming inside you."

You gasped, holding onto his shoulders as he fucked you a little faster. You two hadn't actually done that yet, he'd always pulled out-- just to be safe, he said, even with the pill and everything. Apparently, safety was less important now; and you weren't going to stop him, not when just the thought of it made you so wet that you started to drip down and stain this poor abandoned picnic table in the woods.

"I want you to," you admitted. "I... I wanna feel your come in me."

"Fuck, really, baby?" he grinned, watching you nod. "God, that's so sexy-- I will, then. I'll come inside and let you feel it all."

You whined and arched your back, everything so much more sensitive after he'd already made you come.

"I-- I don't think I'll last too long," he admitted in a whisper. "You feel too good..."

You smiled to yourself. "I don't care-- just come, Eddie, I want you to come, please..."

"Oh god," he gasped, fucking you faster and faster, "keep talking."

"Y-you fuck me so good, Ed," you whimpered, "you e-eat my pussy so good... nobody's ever fucked me like you do, you're the best-- you know that, right? The best I've ever had, nobody else has ever made me come like you do--"

"Shit," he hissed, "m'gonna come-- fuck, I'm gonna come inside you, baby, I'm gonna come so deep in your pussy, oh my god--"

"Yes, yes," you encouraged, entangling your legs with his so he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to. "Yes, Eddie, right there!"

"Ohhhh fuck!" he shouted, slowing his pace suddenly as you felt his cock flex inside you. You moaned at the feeling-- warm and shockingly gentle, every pulse of his cock stretching your walls that much more. You didn't know it would feel like this... now you were never gonna let him pull out again.

Going limp, your legs released his hips and he slowly pulled out; it was dark out now, but with his eyes adjusted to it, he could lift up your skirt and get a pretty good view of his come starting to leak from your hole.

"Wow," he whispered, and you shut your legs to hide from the awkward exposed feeling; your face was warm from him looking at you like that, and you covered it, too, with your hands. "Aw, don't do that," he cooed, reaching up to pull gently on your wrists, "don't cover your face, I wanna see you."

"You know what I look like," you dismissed, glancing away to run from his penetrative stare.

"Yeah, but you look prettiest like this," he grinned, "right after I fuck you good-- best you ever had, huh?"

Biting your lip, you nodded shyly, and he smiled even wider.

"Shit, you give out medals for that or something, certificates of achievement? 'Cause I want that in writing, best you ever had," he said wistfully. "Oh, does Mikey Robinson think he's your best? Poor guy."

He was just joking, but it hit you where it hurt and you felt your smile fall, suddenly shoving him away so you could sit up and look out into the trees-- away from him. You were so sick of feeling guilty for all of this-- guilty for how you treated Eddie when Michael was around, guilty for how you treated Michael by going behind his back with Eddie. Couldn't you just be happy with one of them, at least? But no, they were always talking about the other. That Munson freak gets on my nerves, Michael would rant to you, you let me know if he ever bothers you, okay? I know you just think he's annoying but, I dunno, a guy like that could really be dangerous. I mean, he's a criminal-- and a Satanist! And then with Eddie, who was supposed to be your escape, he had to go out and say shit like that, like he wanted to shame you for what you were doing even though he was the one you were doing it with!

"I-- I should go," you decided, hopping up off the table.

"Wha-- already?" Eddie questioned, following you once he'd put his dick back into his jeans and zipped them up. "What about pillow talk?"

"There aren't any pillows here," you noticed, starting to walk back to the school so you could get in your car and go home and take a shower and forget about all this-- until tomorrow when you were coming back for it again. God, you hated yourself in moments like this...

"Okay, we can go to my place, there are pillows there," he offered.

"Eddie, seriously," you rolled your eyes, turning around to look at him again. "You know we can't do that. You know that's not what this is."

He paused for a second, just long enough for you to spin back again and keep heading for the tree line. "Let me drive you home," he insisted.

"We can't be seen together," you reminded him, still walking away.

"Well, where the fuck are you gonna go," he shouted, "with my come running down your thighs, huh? You gonna go back to your shitstain boyfriend?"

"Don't call him that!" you yelled back, stopping but not turning around. "He's not perfect, okay? But he's not a bad person-- he's not a bad boyfriend. And he doesn't deserve any of this!"

"Not a bad boyfriend?" Eddie repeated incredulously. "Has he ever made you come like I do? If you and him had to sneak around to be together, like we do, do you think he'd do it? Or would he just go for any of the other girls that go fucking mental for a guy on the basketball team?"

"Shut up," you scoffed, facing him this time, and noticing that he was standing closer to you than you realized, "you don't know anything about him."

"I know he's not good enough for you," he replied, crossing his arms.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because here you are!" he shouted, throwing his hands up for a second before letting them fall down to his sides with a clap on his jeans. "With me! In the fucking woods! You should be with somebody who you love enough to just be with. Exclusively. No secrets, no hiding."

"W-well, I do love him," you assured, frowning when Eddie began to laugh.

"God, you don't even know what love is, do you?" he realized. "You're just a kid, how could you know?"

"Fuck off," you spat, "I'm not that much younger than you-- I'm eighteen and everything."

"Yeah, but you don't know shit about anything, you know that?" he sneered. "I guess those nasty rumors about you are true after all. You're really just a stupid slut."

It wasn't until you felt the pain in your fist that you realized you'd punched him, square on the jaw, hard enough to knock him off balance.

"Fuck!" he yelped.

"And I guess you're just a freak," you shot back, shaking your head as you left for your car-- for the last time.

As you walked, you felt tears welling in your eyes; you wiped them away before they fell, because then you weren't really crying over Eddie Munson... your eyes were just watering. Allergies; all this pollen out here in the forest, that's it. Not that the guy you were in love with still hated you-- as he should. Not that you trusted him and he said all that shit to you, and deep down, you believed him. No, it wasn't any of that; just the pollen.

"Wait," he called after you, but you didn't stop. "Wait, damn it!"

In a moment, he caught up to you, and as he spun you around to face him, you hated that he was seeing you cry.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I swear, I didn't mean any of that. Well, I didn't mean the stuff about you-- I pretty much meant the stuff about him."

You tried not to laugh, but you did, even through the tears.

"Aw, see?" he cooed, "there's that smile. I love when you laugh... it's the best thing in the world. Even better than when you come-- I mean, it's close, but... that's what I miss most, when you're with him. And yeah, it makes my blood boil to imagine him touching you, holding you, loving you-- but really, what I can't stand is knowing he gets to make you laugh, and smile, and he can kiss your cheek and hug you and--"

"Eddie," you breathed, your head sinking a bit, "he doesn't make me laugh."

"No, I've seen it--" he interjected.

"It's fake, okay?" you groaned. "I have to pretend to think he's funny, 'cause he's my boyfriend, but he's so not. We used to have fun, a long time ago, but I can barely remember what that was like..."

"Wow," Eddie smirked, "so you really have to fake everything with this guy, huh..."

You snorted out another laugh, and he laughed with you. "Could you stop making me laugh? I was really busy crying over here..."

"Sorry, sorry," he soothed with a smile, pausing for a second before speaking up again. "Come on, baby, why are you with this guy? Really?"

You chewed the inside of your cheek before sighing. "Honestly, I don't know... I just wanna be with you..."

It took all the courage in your body to say it, but you did, and you shut your eyes as you felt him kiss your forehead. "I wanna be with you too," he replied. "I don't think anything else matters but that."

You started to cry again-- much more bittersweet than it was before-- and he lifted your face with his hands and wiped your tears away.

"You hear me?" he insisted. "Nothing else matters, okay? Not what any of them think, not if your parents approve of me, not if I'm just a loser and you're gorgeous and popular--"

"You're not a loser, Ed," you promised.

"You know what's crazy?" he smiled. "I don't feel like a loser. When I'm with you, I mean. And then you go back to him and I feel like complete shit, but-- really, when we're together--"

He stepped closer, pressing his body up to yours, and you took a shaky breath.

"When we're making love," he whispered, "or-- or just talking, or not even that, just laying there not saying anything at all... I don't feel like a loser anymore. I'd rather be with you than be President or be a superhero or a rockstar..."

His tone got a little more serious before he continued.

"Even if you can't break up with him, I'd rather be with you."

You sighed again, hating that he would stoop so low for you. Then again, you'd stooped pretty low for him. "I can't do that to either of you anymore," you breathed. "It's not right, it's not fair to any of us... I..."

Your body was fighting not to say it, terrified of the consequences, but your heart had been screaming it non-stop for weeks.

"I love you," you whispered.

He sighed and dropped his head down, pressing his forehead against yours as he kept holding your face. "God..." he breathed. "Say it again."

"I love you," you repeated.

He kissed you hard, rough, suddenly; you whimpered into it, throwing your arms around his shoulders, and he started to stumblingly guide you backwards. "One more time," he demanded.

"I love you, I love you," you chanted, until he cut you off with another kiss.

"I love you more," he finally replied, and nothing could stop you from breaking into a beaming smile in that moment.

"You love me more than I love you?" you wondered.

"No-- I love you more than anything," he explained, and you felt your back press against the wooden table again.

"Eddie!" you giggled. "I've gotta go-- I have to tell Michael it's over--"

"It can wait," he insisted, "I've finally got you and I'm not letting you go so easy... I need to feel you again."

"But we just--!"

He kissed you, laying you back on the table and gently pressing his weight into you. Instinctively, you moaned softly and opened your legs for him, and you felt him smile. "That's what I thought," he winked.

[avendell]

Some soft and very messy sketches 🌙

[theworstassassinever]

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[nudiesuitdaydreamsofacirclesky]

Reblogging this for future reference. It might help me get over my fears in releasing my gritty fan fic…

[dinmadness]

Pedro Pascal making “those” sounds...

[pedros-mustache]