“There are real constellations: ancient, steady. And then there are fool constellations, loud stars strung together by the insecure, lighting nothing but each other’s egos.”
Or in which:
y/n fools herself into believing she could ever stand a chance against the Casanova himself.
Remus Lupin, or Moony to some, was a man of many talents. He had a way of knowing what you would say before you thought it, and he could smell the rain from miles away.
But his tragic flaw, his downfall was his insecurity. He was insecure about his scars, insecure about his limp after a full moon and insecure in his role in his friend group.
Remus walked like he was apologizing to the earth for taking up space. Every step careful, every smile hesitant, as if he’d borrowed it. He kept his hands in his pockets like they might betray how badly he wanted to reach for someone. For you. For Sirius. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe that was the tragedy of Remus Lupin: too unsure to believe he was wanted at all.
But you never saw him in the way he saw himself. To you, Remus was the stars, constellations even. Strung together by his scars that made him even more beautiful. However you weren’t the only one who thought the same .
Sirius Black. Black was the type of person who shifted the cosmos with a smile. He was the type of person who demanded the universe to stop, and it would. For even the galaxy knew that Sirius Black was a force to be reckoned with. He didn't fall in love, he crashed into it full speed.
He loved Remus in a way that terrified him; not because it was wrong, but because it was real. Because when Sirius looked at Remus, he didn’t see a werewolf, or a prefect, or even a friend. He saw gravity. And Sirius had always been at war with gravity.
Everyone knew Sirius black was in love with Remus Lupin except for Remus himself, and no one knew you were in love with Remus Lupin except James Potter. But Remus never looked back. Not at you. Not really. He kept his eyes low and his heart lower, convinced that love, real love, was something for other people.
And maybe that’s why it hurt. Because to you, Remus wasn’t broken. He was a map of the night sky, not perfect, but full of meaning. And you were willing to get lost in him.
You were the moon.
Steady. Soft. Always watching but rarely mentioned.
Not the brightest in the sky, not the loudest, but constant. You pulled at tides no one noticed and gave light when the world turned dark. And you loved him. Merlin, you loved him.
Remus was the Earth; solid, quiet, full of life he didn’t believe he carried. He moved with that gentle kind of sorrow that made you ache to hold him, to anchor him. And he never asked you to orbit him but you did. You always had. Silently. Faithfully. Lovingly.
But Earth doesn't look at the moon.
Not really.
Earth looks at the sun.
Sirius was the sun. Sirius Black was the sun and you hated him for it. Brilliant. Burning. He walked into a room and the air bent around him. People turned their faces toward him without realizing. Even Remus.
Especially Remus.
You watched it happen the way a moon watches an eclipse. Slowly, helplessly, beautifully. The way Remus leaned a little closer to Sirius when he laughed. The way Sirius touched him like it was second nature. The way Remus glowed in Sirius’s orbit brighter, bolder, more alive.
You wondered if that was love.
Or gravity.
Or both.
And you? You stayed where you always were. Quiet in the dark. Spinning around a boy who didn’t know the moon had a heart too. One that ached every time he smiled at the sun.
Some nights, you swore Remus felt your pull.
The way he’d look up at you: tired, soft-eyed, arms crossed as he leaned against the window in the dormitory. As if he could sense something out there in the dark, calling to him. As if your quiet devotion could ever be enough to make him stay still.
But he never stayed long.
Because in the morning, the sun would rise, and he would turn his face toward it like he was made to.
Sirius always burned brightest when Remus was near. They had a gravity of their own, wild, chaotic, beautiful in a way that hurt to watch. And they fit together like a secret you weren’t meant to know. You could feel it in the small things. The look Remus gave him when he thought no one was watching. The way Sirius always found him first in a room, like the rest of you were just placeholders.
You learned to swallow your feelings like phases waxing, waning, disappearing altogether when they held each other’s gaze a little too long.
You wondered if the moon ever got tired of circling the earth.If she ever wanted to be seen instead of just reflected.You wondered if Remus even knew what he meant to you.
But you never said a word. Because loving Remus felt sacred — like a temple you weren’t allowed to enter, only kneel before.
So you stayed where you were.
In his orbit.
Always near, never enough.
And every time he ran toward the sun, you told yourself it was okay.That someone like you was never meant to be held.Only admired from a distance.Only felt in the quiet.
AN: my first time writing… idk if I should continue, I hope it makes sense!! Comment your ideas for sure though.
You were no stranger to casual. Not one bit. But when the lines blur with you and the Hawkins resident weirdo, you realize you're in over your head.
this is actually mean johnathan and i'm using inspo from my love life. ENJOY!!
The rain pattered against the window as you let out a puff of air, still trying to catch your breath. A layer of sweat covered your body as you stared up at the ceiling. Jonathan lay beside you.
Silent.
Lately, there had been more and more silence between you. Maybe you both realized this wasn't sustainable. Whatever this was between the two of you.
You had both agreed on casual, but at what cost?
Because casual wasn't supposed to feel like this.
It wasn't supposed to be Jonathan waking up before you and making your coffee exactly the way you liked it. It wasn't supposed to be him staying until morning or giving you a ride to work afterward. It wasn't supposed to be the way he'd pull you against his chest when you were half asleep or kiss your forehead before getting out of bed..
Somewhere along the line, casual had become something neither of you knew how to name.
Somewhere along the line, you started depending on Jonathan.
You couldn't function without seeing him at least twice a week. You couldn't go through your day without thinking about him. He had become the first person you wanted to tell things to, even though you technically had no right to expect anything from him.
You loved Jonathan Byers.
You knew you did.
And maybe he knew it too.
That was why he had started pulling away.
Every time you got too close, he disappeared. Whenever you had a particularly good day together, he became distant afterward. Whenever you let yourself believe that maybe this was becoming something real, Jonathan seemed determined to remind you that it wasn't.
The night after Joyce invited you over for dinner, he hadn't spoken to you for a week.
You'd spent hours getting ready. You'd changed your outfit three times and asked Jonathan more than once if his mother actually wanted you there. He'd smiled and told you she did.
For a few hours, you had let yourself pretend.
Then he disappeared.
And when he came back, he acted like nothing had happened.
You never asked why.
You were too afraid of the answer.
Now, that same silence—the dread that had been following you around for months—had finally caught up with you.
Jonathan sat up beside you and began to redress.
Something he never did.
He always stayed.
Always.
Usually, he'd crawl back underneath the blankets and pull you against him. Sometimes he'd fall asleep with his arm around your waist. Sometimes he'd wake you before sunrise just to tell you he had to go.
Tonight, he wouldn't even look at you.
He pulled his shirt over his head and reached for his jeans.
You watched him.
"You're leaving?"
"Yeah."
You pushed yourself upright, pulling the sheet around yourself. "You always stay."
"I know."
"Then what's changed?"
"Nothing."
You almost laughed.
Nothing.
That word had become cruel.
Nothing was wrong when he stopped calling. Nothing was wrong when he disappeared. Nothing was wrong when he looked at you like he wanted to say something and swallowed it instead.
You stared at him.
"Jonathan, look at me."
He didn't.
Your chest tightened.
"Please."
Slowly, he turned.
His eyes met yours.
He looked scared.
Not of you.
Of himself.
"What is happening to us?" you asked.
Jonathan looked away.
"I don't know."
You swallowed.
"Is it me?"
"No"
He grabbed his jacket.
"I just think this needs to stop."
Your heart dropped.
"Stop?"
"This."
He gestured between the two of you.
"You mean us?"
"There is no us."
The words hurt.
You stared at him.
"There is."
Jonathan shook his head.
"We agreed this was casual."
"We stopped being casual a long time ago."
"That's your problem."
You flinched.
Jonathan saw it.
For a second, guilt flashed across his face.
Then he buried it.
"I can't do this anymore."
"Why?"
"Because it's not going anywhere."
"Maybe I want it to go somewhere."
"You shouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because this isn't what you want."
"You don't get to decide what I want."
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
You stood and pulled your clothes on, your hands shaking as you tried to fasten them.
"I know exactly what I'm getting myself into."
"No, you don't."
"I love you."
The words came out quietly.
Jonathan froze.
You stared at him, your heart pounding against your ribs.
"I love you, Jonathan."
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Jonathan scoffed.
Actually scoffed.
It was such an ugly, dismissive sound that you almost didn't recognize him.
"Jesus Christ."
Your face fell.
Jonathan shook his head and looked away as if you'd said something ridiculous.
"You knew what this was."
You swallowed.
"I thought—"
"No." His voice was sharper now. "Don't do that. Don't turn this into something it wasn't."
Your chest tightened.
"We've been doing this for months."
"Exactly."
He looked at you.
"If I wanted to date you, I would've started dating you months ago."
The words hit harder than you expected.
Jonathan kept going.
"I would've asked you out. I would've taken you somewhere. I would've called you my girlfriend. I didn't."
You stared at him.
"Because you didn't want to."
"Because I don't."
There it was.
The lie.
The one he needed you to believe.
Jonathan forced himself to keep going.
"You keep acting like all of this meant something because you decided it did. It didn't."
Your eyes started to burn.
"Jonathan..."
"We hooked up."
He said it so simply.
Like that was all it had ever been.
"We spent the night together. That's it."
You shook your head.
"No."
"Yes."
"You stayed."
"So?"
"You made breakfast."
"I was hungry."
You stared at him.
"You drove me to work."
"I was already going that way."
"You held me."
Jonathan's expression hardened.
"You wanted me to."
Your lips parted.
He could see it happening.
He could see every memory you'd built between you collapsing in your face.
And he hated himself for it.
But he kept going.
"You've made this into some big love story in your head, and it isn't. It was convenient. We were attracted to each other. We had fun. That's all."
Your breathing became uneven.
"You don't mean that."
Jonathan laughed bitterly.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I know you."
"No, you don't."
"I do."
"You know what you wanted me to be."
He stepped closer.
"You wanted me to be your boyfriend. You wanted me to fall in love with you. You wanted me to make all of this mean something."
His voice lowered.
"But I never promised you any of that."
You stared at him.
"I thought you loved me."
Jonathan's jaw clenched.
He looked away for half a second because that one hurt too much.
Then he forced himself to look back.
"I don't."
You went completely still.
Jonathan felt something inside him crack.
He wanted to take it back.
He wanted to tell you that he loved you so much that it scared him. That every morning he made your coffee because he'd memorized exactly how you liked it. That he stayed because leaving you felt impossible. That he'd spent months trying to convince himself you meant nothing while quietly building his entire routine around you.
But he couldn't tell you that.
Because if he did, you'd stay.
And Jonathan was convinced that loving you meant eventually destroying you.
So he chose to destroy you first.
"You need to stop making this into something it isn't," he said. "You're acting like I owe you a relationship because I slept with you a few times."
Your face crumpled.
"I'm not saying that."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I love you."
"I know."
The words were almost crueler than everything else.
"I know you do. That's the problem."
You stared at him.
Jonathan grabbed his jacket.
"You'll find someone else. Someone who actually fits into your life. Someone you can take to parties and introduce to people without having to explain what the hell you're doing with them."
"I don't care what they think."
Jonathan's expression hardened.
"Well, I do."
"I don't."
"I do."
He stepped closer.
"I care what people think. I care how they look at me. I care what they say about you. I care about what happens when they realize you're wasting your time with me."
"I'm not wasting anything."
"You are."
"I love you."
"And I don't love you."
The room went silent.
Jonathan could barely breathe.
You looked at him for a long moment.
Then your face changed.
The fight left you.
The anger.
The desperation.
Everything.
You went quiet.
Not because you had nothing to say.
Because suddenly, there was nothing left you could say.
He had taken every memory you'd treasured and reduced it to nothing.
The mornings.
The coffee.
The rides home.
The nights he'd held you.
The way he'd kissed your forehead.
All of it.
Nothing.
Just hookups.
Something convenient.
Something he'd apparently never cared about.
Your eyes dropped to the floor.
"Okay."
Jonathan's heart shattered.
He'd wanted you to stop fighting.
He'd wanted you to let him go.
He hadn't realized how much it would hurt when you actually did.
You didn't ask him to stay.
You didn't tell him you loved him again.
You didn't even look at him.
You simply stepped aside.
And Jonathan stood there for a moment, staring at the person he'd just broken, knowing that every cruel word had been a lie.
But you didn't know that.
All you knew was that the boy you'd loved had just told you that none of it had ever meant anything.
And for the first time since you'd met him, you believed him.
You were no stranger to casual. Not one bit. But when the lines blur with you and the Hawkins resident weirdo, you realize you're in over your head.
this is actually mean johnathan and i'm using inspo from my love life. ENJOY!!
The rain pattered against the window as you let out a puff of air, still trying to catch your breath. A layer of sweat covered your body as you stared up at the ceiling. Jonathan lay beside you.
Silent.
Lately, there had been more and more silence between you. Maybe you both realized this wasn't sustainable. Whatever this was between the two of you.
You had both agreed on casual, but at what cost?
Because casual wasn't supposed to feel like this.
It wasn't supposed to be Jonathan waking up before you and making your coffee exactly the way you liked it. It wasn't supposed to be him staying until morning or giving you a ride to work afterward. It wasn't supposed to be the way he'd pull you against his chest when you were half asleep or kiss your forehead before getting out of bed..
Somewhere along the line, casual had become something neither of you knew how to name.
Somewhere along the line, you started depending on Jonathan.
You couldn't function without seeing him at least twice a week. You couldn't go through your day without thinking about him. He had become the first person you wanted to tell things to, even though you technically had no right to expect anything from him.
You loved Jonathan Byers.
You knew you did.
And maybe he knew it too.
That was why he had started pulling away.
Every time you got too close, he disappeared. Whenever you had a particularly good day together, he became distant afterward. Whenever you let yourself believe that maybe this was becoming something real, Jonathan seemed determined to remind you that it wasn't.
The night after Joyce invited you over for dinner, he hadn't spoken to you for a week.
You'd spent hours getting ready. You'd changed your outfit three times and asked Jonathan more than once if his mother actually wanted you there. He'd smiled and told you she did.
For a few hours, you had let yourself pretend.
Then he disappeared.
And when he came back, he acted like nothing had happened.
You never asked why.
You were too afraid of the answer.
Now, that same silence—the dread that had been following you around for months—had finally caught up with you.
Jonathan sat up beside you and began to redress.
Something he never did.
He always stayed.
Always.
Usually, he'd crawl back underneath the blankets and pull you against him. Sometimes he'd fall asleep with his arm around your waist. Sometimes he'd wake you before sunrise just to tell you he had to go.
Tonight, he wouldn't even look at you.
He pulled his shirt over his head and reached for his jeans.
You watched him.
"You're leaving?"
"Yeah."
You pushed yourself upright, pulling the sheet around yourself. "You always stay."
"I know."
"Then what's changed?"
"Nothing."
You almost laughed.
Nothing.
That word had become cruel.
Nothing was wrong when he stopped calling. Nothing was wrong when he disappeared. Nothing was wrong when he looked at you like he wanted to say something and swallowed it instead.
You stared at him.
"Jonathan, look at me."
He didn't.
Your chest tightened.
"Please."
Slowly, he turned.
His eyes met yours.
He looked scared.
Not of you.
Of himself.
"What is happening to us?" you asked.
Jonathan looked away.
"I don't know."
You swallowed.
"Is it me?"
"No"
He grabbed his jacket.
"I just think this needs to stop."
Your heart dropped.
"Stop?"
"This."
He gestured between the two of you.
"You mean us?"
"There is no us."
The words hurt.
You stared at him.
"There is."
Jonathan shook his head.
"We agreed this was casual."
"We stopped being casual a long time ago."
"That's your problem."
You flinched.
Jonathan saw it.
For a second, guilt flashed across his face.
Then he buried it.
"I can't do this anymore."
"Why?"
"Because it's not going anywhere."
"Maybe I want it to go somewhere."
"You shouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because this isn't what you want."
"You don't get to decide what I want."
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
You stood and pulled your clothes on, your hands shaking as you tried to fasten them.
"I know exactly what I'm getting myself into."
"No, you don't."
"I love you."
The words came out quietly.
Jonathan froze.
You stared at him, your heart pounding against your ribs.
"I love you, Jonathan."
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Jonathan scoffed.
Actually scoffed.
It was such an ugly, dismissive sound that you almost didn't recognize him.
"Jesus Christ."
Your face fell.
Jonathan shook his head and looked away as if you'd said something ridiculous.
"You knew what this was."
You swallowed.
"I thought—"
"No." His voice was sharper now. "Don't do that. Don't turn this into something it wasn't."
Your chest tightened.
"We've been doing this for months."
"Exactly."
He looked at you.
"If I wanted to date you, I would've started dating you months ago."
The words hit harder than you expected.
Jonathan kept going.
"I would've asked you out. I would've taken you somewhere. I would've called you my girlfriend. I didn't."
You stared at him.
"Because you didn't want to."
"Because I don't."
There it was.
The lie.
The one he needed you to believe.
Jonathan forced himself to keep going.
"You keep acting like all of this meant something because you decided it did. It didn't."
Your eyes started to burn.
"Jonathan..."
"We hooked up."
He said it so simply.
Like that was all it had ever been.
"We spent the night together. That's it."
You shook your head.
"No."
"Yes."
"You stayed."
"So?"
"You made breakfast."
"I was hungry."
You stared at him.
"You drove me to work."
"I was already going that way."
"You held me."
Jonathan's expression hardened.
"You wanted me to."
Your lips parted.
He could see it happening.
He could see every memory you'd built between you collapsing in your face.
And he hated himself for it.
But he kept going.
"You've made this into some big love story in your head, and it isn't. It was convenient. We were attracted to each other. We had fun. That's all."
Your breathing became uneven.
"You don't mean that."
Jonathan laughed bitterly.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I know you."
"No, you don't."
"I do."
"You know what you wanted me to be."
He stepped closer.
"You wanted me to be your boyfriend. You wanted me to fall in love with you. You wanted me to make all of this mean something."
His voice lowered.
"But I never promised you any of that."
You stared at him.
"I thought you loved me."
Jonathan's jaw clenched.
He looked away for half a second because that one hurt too much.
Then he forced himself to look back.
"I don't."
You went completely still.
Jonathan felt something inside him crack.
He wanted to take it back.
He wanted to tell you that he loved you so much that it scared him. That every morning he made your coffee because he'd memorized exactly how you liked it. That he stayed because leaving you felt impossible. That he'd spent months trying to convince himself you meant nothing while quietly building his entire routine around you.
But he couldn't tell you that.
Because if he did, you'd stay.
And Jonathan was convinced that loving you meant eventually destroying you.
So he chose to destroy you first.
"You need to stop making this into something it isn't," he said. "You're acting like I owe you a relationship because I slept with you a few times."
Your face crumpled.
"I'm not saying that."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I love you."
"I know."
The words were almost crueler than everything else.
"I know you do. That's the problem."
You stared at him.
Jonathan grabbed his jacket.
"You'll find someone else. Someone who actually fits into your life. Someone you can take to parties and introduce to people without having to explain what the hell you're doing with them."
"I don't care what they think."
Jonathan's expression hardened.
"Well, I do."
"I don't."
"I do."
He stepped closer.
"I care what people think. I care how they look at me. I care what they say about you. I care about what happens when they realize you're wasting your time with me."
"I'm not wasting anything."
"You are."
"I love you."
"And I don't love you."
The room went silent.
Jonathan could barely breathe.
You looked at him for a long moment.
Then your face changed.
The fight left you.
The anger.
The desperation.
Everything.
You went quiet.
Not because you had nothing to say.
Because suddenly, there was nothing left you could say.
He had taken every memory you'd treasured and reduced it to nothing.
The mornings.
The coffee.
The rides home.
The nights he'd held you.
The way he'd kissed your forehead.
All of it.
Nothing.
Just hookups.
Something convenient.
Something he'd apparently never cared about.
Your eyes dropped to the floor.
"Okay."
Jonathan's heart shattered.
He'd wanted you to stop fighting.
He'd wanted you to let him go.
He hadn't realized how much it would hurt when you actually did.
You didn't ask him to stay.
You didn't tell him you loved him again.
You didn't even look at him.
You simply stepped aside.
And Jonathan stood there for a moment, staring at the person he'd just broken, knowing that every cruel word had been a lie.
But you didn't know that.
All you knew was that the boy you'd loved had just told you that none of it had ever meant anything.
And for the first time since you'd met him, you believed him.
In which: The love of your life is getting married, but you're watching from the isle.
There wasn't a single person who wasn't smiling.
And really, who wouldn't?
Weddings were where smiles gathered. Love was in the air, tucked between the white roses and flickering candles, woven through every whispered blessing and tearful laugh.
The love of your life, James Potter, was waiting at the altar.
He wore the biggest smile you had ever seen. Tears glistened behind his glasses, and his hands trembled.
Your eyes matched his.
Tears.
The vows fell on deaf ears. All you could do was stare at the love of your life realizing nothing would be the same.
And on her finger, he placed a ring.
The same ring he had shown you three months ago.
The same ring you had helped him choose.
You had laughed in the jeweler's shop, turning it beneath the light and telling him Lily would love it. James had trusted you because he always trusted you. He had hugged you so tightly that your ribs ached, thanking you over and over.
You had gone home and thrown up.
Now, Sirius stood beside you, close enough that the sleeve of his suit brushed yours. His jaw was tight. He wasn't smiling.
He knew.
Of course he knew. Sirius had known before you did.
He had seen it in the way you watched James fly, your eyes following him even after his broom disappeared into the clouds. He had noticed how every person you charmed at parties looked a little like him beneath the right light. He had held your hair back the night James announced the engagement, pretending you were sick from the firewhisky because that lie hurt less than the truth.
Everyone had wanted you once.
Everyone except the person you wanted.
Or so you had believed.
A tear slipped down James's face and you were transported to last night.
James on your doorstep.
James soaked through from the rain.
James without his glasses, his eyes red and wild as he begged you to tell him not to do it.
"You can't be here," you had whispered.
"I know."
"You're getting married tomorrow."
"I know."
"Then what the hell are you doing?"
He stared at you as if you had asked him why the earth turned.
"Tell me not to."
The words had been so quiet that, for one merciful second, you thought you had imagined them.
Then he stepped closer.
"Tell me not to marry her."
Your heart stopped.
"You're drunk."
"I'm not."
"Then you're scared."
"I am." A broken laugh escaped him. "I'm terrified."
"Everyone gets nervous before their wedding."
"This isn't nerves."
James reached for your hand. His fingers were cold.
You should have pulled away.
You didn't.
"I've spent years doing what I thought I was supposed to do," he said. "Chasing the right girl. Becoming the right man. Building the right life. And now it's here, and all I can think about is you."
"James."
"Tell me you don't love me."
You stared at him.
It would have been easy. Four words. One clean cut.
You had always been a brilliant liar.
But not with him.
Never with him.
"You're marrying Lily."
"Tell me you don't love me," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Look at me and say it, and I'll go."
You looked at him.
At the boy who had shared his cloak with you in first year. The boy who had kissed your bruised knuckles after every fight. The boy who had slept beside you on the floor of the hospital wing while Remus recovered from another full moon.
The boy who had broken your heart without ever knowing it belonged to him.
"I can't."
Something collapsed in his expression.
Then James was holding your face between his hands, his forehead pressed to yours. His breath shook against your lips.
"Ask me to stay."
You closed your eyes.
"Please," he whispered. "Please love me enough to be selfish."
You almost did.
God, you almost did.
But somewhere across the country, Lily Evans was sleeping with her wedding dress hanging beside her. She trusted him. She trusted you.
And James was frightened, confused, and standing on the edge of destroying the life he had spent years building.
So you became what you had always been for him.
A friend.
"You love her," you said.
"I love you."
"You're scared."
"I love you."
"Go home, James."
His hands fell away.
For one terrible moment, neither of you moved.
Then he nodded.
"Right."
You wanted him to fight harder. You hated yourself for it, but you did.
You wanted him to refuse. To kiss you. To tell you that you were wrong and choose you anyway.
Instead, James put his glasses back on.
At the door, he paused.
"If you ask me tomorrow," he said without turning around, "I'll still leave with you."
Then he walked into the rain.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The room erupted.
Applause thundered around you as James kissed Lily.
Your hands came together because everyone else's did. Once. Twice. Again. Each clap felt like dirt striking a coffin lid.
Sirius caught your wrist.
"You're bleeding."
You looked down. Your fingernails had carved crescents into your palm.
It didn't hurt.
Nothing did.
James and Lily turned toward the aisle, radiant and married, and the guests rose to their feet. Lily's smile could have warmed the whole room. She deserved this happiness. She deserved a husband who had not stood on someone else's doorstep the night before.
James looked at you.
His smile faltered.
Only for a heartbeat.
But Sirius saw it. You felt him stiffen beside you.
James's gaze fell to your clenched hand, then lifted back to your face. There it was again - the question he had asked in the rain.
Ask me to stay.
He was waiting.
Even now.
You could say his name. You could ruin everything before the ink dried. James would come to you; you knew it with the awful certainty of prophecy.
So you smiled.
You gave him the brightest, most convincing smile in your vast collection. The smile that had broken hearts across Hogwarts. The smile that had earned you your reputation, hiding the pathetic truth that only one person had ever possessed yours.
James understood.
His face went still.
Then Lily tugged gently on his hand, and he looked at his wife.
The moment passed.
He walked by you without a word.
You made it through the photographs.
You made it through dinner and Peter's rambling speech. You laughed when expected. You flirted with a stranger whose name you immediately forgot. You even danced with Lily, spinning her beneath your arm until she was breathless with laughter.
The truth settled within you, cruel and permanent.
Through the window, you could see James. Lily's arms were looped around his neck. His hands rested at her waist.
But he was looking outside.
Looking for you.
At the edge of the grounds, you glanced back one last time.
James stood framed by golden light, surrounded by everyone he loved. From a distance, he looked perfectly happy.
Perhaps, in time, he would be.
Perhaps you all would.
You had loved James Potter enough to let him go. That was what you would tell yourself in the years to come. That you had been noble. That you had saved four lives from the wreckage of one selfish decision.
But as you stepped into the dark, you finally understood.
In which: The love of your life is getting married, but you're watching from the isle.
There wasn't a single person who wasn't smiling.
And really, who wouldn't?
Weddings were where smiles gathered. Love was in the air, tucked between the white roses and flickering candles, woven through every whispered blessing and tearful laugh.
The love of your life, James Potter, was waiting at the altar.
He wore the biggest smile you had ever seen. Tears glistened behind his glasses, and his hands trembled.
Your eyes matched his.
Tears.
The vows fell on deaf ears. All you could do was stare at the love of your life realizing nothing would be the same.
And on her finger, he placed a ring.
The same ring he had shown you three months ago.
The same ring you had helped him choose.
You had laughed in the jeweler's shop, turning it beneath the light and telling him Lily would love it. James had trusted you because he always trusted you. He had hugged you so tightly that your ribs ached, thanking you over and over.
You had gone home and thrown up.
Now, Sirius stood beside you, close enough that the sleeve of his suit brushed yours. His jaw was tight. He wasn't smiling.
He knew.
Of course he knew. Sirius had known before you did.
He had seen it in the way you watched James fly, your eyes following him even after his broom disappeared into the clouds. He had noticed how every person you charmed at parties looked a little like him beneath the right light. He had held your hair back the night James announced the engagement, pretending you were sick from the firewhisky because that lie hurt less than the truth.
Everyone had wanted you once.
Everyone except the person you wanted.
Or so you had believed.
A tear slipped down James's face and you were transported to last night.
James on your doorstep.
James soaked through from the rain.
James without his glasses, his eyes red and wild as he begged you to tell him not to do it.
"You can't be here," you had whispered.
"I know."
"You're getting married tomorrow."
"I know."
"Then what the hell are you doing?"
He stared at you as if you had asked him why the earth turned.
"Tell me not to."
The words had been so quiet that, for one merciful second, you thought you had imagined them.
Then he stepped closer.
"Tell me not to marry her."
Your heart stopped.
"You're drunk."
"I'm not."
"Then you're scared."
"I am." A broken laugh escaped him. "I'm terrified."
"Everyone gets nervous before their wedding."
"This isn't nerves."
James reached for your hand. His fingers were cold.
You should have pulled away.
You didn't.
"I've spent years doing what I thought I was supposed to do," he said. "Chasing the right girl. Becoming the right man. Building the right life. And now it's here, and all I can think about is you."
"James."
"Tell me you don't love me."
You stared at him.
It would have been easy. Four words. One clean cut.
You had always been a brilliant liar.
But not with him.
Never with him.
"You're marrying Lily."
"Tell me you don't love me," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Look at me and say it, and I'll go."
You looked at him.
At the boy who had shared his cloak with you in first year. The boy who had kissed your bruised knuckles after every fight. The boy who had slept beside you on the floor of the hospital wing while Remus recovered from another full moon.
The boy who had broken your heart without ever knowing it belonged to him.
"I can't."
Something collapsed in his expression.
Then James was holding your face between his hands, his forehead pressed to yours. His breath shook against your lips.
"Ask me to stay."
You closed your eyes.
"Please," he whispered. "Please love me enough to be selfish."
You almost did.
God, you almost did.
But somewhere across the country, Lily Evans was sleeping with her wedding dress hanging beside her. She trusted him. She trusted you.
And James was frightened, confused, and standing on the edge of destroying the life he had spent years building.
So you became what you had always been for him.
A friend.
"You love her," you said.
"I love you."
"You're scared."
"I love you."
"Go home, James."
His hands fell away.
For one terrible moment, neither of you moved.
Then he nodded.
"Right."
You wanted him to fight harder. You hated yourself for it, but you did.
You wanted him to refuse. To kiss you. To tell you that you were wrong and choose you anyway.
Instead, James put his glasses back on.
At the door, he paused.
"If you ask me tomorrow," he said without turning around, "I'll still leave with you."
Then he walked into the rain.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The room erupted.
Applause thundered around you as James kissed Lily.
Your hands came together because everyone else's did. Once. Twice. Again. Each clap felt like dirt striking a coffin lid.
Sirius caught your wrist.
"You're bleeding."
You looked down. Your fingernails had carved crescents into your palm.
It didn't hurt.
Nothing did.
James and Lily turned toward the aisle, radiant and married, and the guests rose to their feet. Lily's smile could have warmed the whole room. She deserved this happiness. She deserved a husband who had not stood on someone else's doorstep the night before.
James looked at you.
His smile faltered.
Only for a heartbeat.
But Sirius saw it. You felt him stiffen beside you.
James's gaze fell to your clenched hand, then lifted back to your face. There it was again - the question he had asked in the rain.
Ask me to stay.
He was waiting.
Even now.
You could say his name. You could ruin everything before the ink dried. James would come to you; you knew it with the awful certainty of prophecy.
So you smiled.
You gave him the brightest, most convincing smile in your vast collection. The smile that had broken hearts across Hogwarts. The smile that had earned you your reputation, hiding the pathetic truth that only one person had ever possessed yours.
James understood.
His face went still.
Then Lily tugged gently on his hand, and he looked at his wife.
The moment passed.
He walked by you without a word.
You made it through the photographs.
You made it through dinner and Peter's rambling speech. You laughed when expected. You flirted with a stranger whose name you immediately forgot. You even danced with Lily, spinning her beneath your arm until she was breathless with laughter.
The truth settled within you, cruel and permanent.
Through the window, you could see James. Lily's arms were looped around his neck. His hands rested at her waist.
But he was looking outside.
Looking for you.
At the edge of the grounds, you glanced back one last time.
James stood framed by golden light, surrounded by everyone he loved. From a distance, he looked perfectly happy.
Perhaps, in time, he would be.
Perhaps you all would.
You had loved James Potter enough to let him go. That was what you would tell yourself in the years to come. That you had been noble. That you had saved four lives from the wreckage of one selfish decision.
But as you stepped into the dark, you finally understood.
Summary: Reader is a children's librarian in desperate need of a roommate. What happens when their potential roommate is a (quite attractive) genius FBI guy?
This fic is in progress, but here's the chapters so far.
summary: a bad shift doesn't allow you the right to give jack attitude. someone has to teach you a lesson.
tags/desc: 18+ MDNI, afab!reader, fem!reader, R2!reader, minor medical inaccuracies but who gaf, rude!reader as a plot device, mom and dad are fighting, established relationship, implied age gap, maybe mean!jack, brat taming/angry sex (it lowkey got away from me LOL), unprotected piv (no hat no cat!!), hair pulling, fingering, dry humping, spanking, name calling/pet names (baby, sweetheart, brat, etc), slightly proofread
wordcount: 5.8k
a/n: finally posting a regular jack one shot its been MONTHS HELLO!! this one lowkey made me blush and run laps around my room and also my first time at writing full on brat taming LMK IF ITS BUNS!!!!! 💚 requests are open—!! reblogs are a writers best friend
“Donnie, what the fuck is this?”
“Toxicology test.”
“Yeah, without any heavy metals tested…”
“Yep… your student must have miswrote the order and it got tested wrong. You have to write another.” Donnie pursed his lips and handed you a new, fresh lab order sheet. Already knowing of the massive fuse you were bound to blow at any second.
Fucking med students, slipped under your breath as a war path led you to a frazzled med student. The crease between your eyebrows grew deeper and the heat in your neck rose to your cheeks. Nails digging into the skin of your palms as your only form of decompression to keep you from screaming profanities in their direction. Something about the lab today caused a massive delay, so you were already waiting two hours for a simple heavy metals test.
“You.” Tone seething as you grab the thin fabric of black scrubs. A rough tug, yanking a startled med student from the counter of the hub.
Not giving them a moment to process what is happening, a soft jab of your finger into their chest. As if your touch has enough power to make them cave in on themselves. The twitch in your eye is enough to tell them they are in deep. It’s either all that frustration pent up inside of you, or the less than optimal four hours of sleep that you were running on.
“What did you do with the order for Rebecca Washington’s lab?”
They stutter, you cut them off before they can explain themselves further.
“Because all I have in my hand is a toxicology test— Last time I checked, we did not test for blood alcohol and opioids in a god damn heavy metals test.” Volume rising louder than acceptable and venom dripped from your lips as you waved the paper in their face. It was long gone from neat, crinkled in your grip. Giving it one last shove into their chest, before stepping away.
“Redo it or stay out of my face for the rest of your fucking med school career.” Your eyes finish your thoughts with a sneer, turning yourself away. “And fix your fucking handwritting, my four year old niece has better hand writing than you.” You had a particularly heavy sailor mouth today.
The air is thick as you march away, turning your breathing ragged. Your trail could have left burn marks on the slippery linoleum. A few nurses and CNAs eye each other at the fresh eruption that occurred in front of them. By the next shift, everyone is sure to know how you blew up at a med student.
You thought getting the chance to teach med students would be fun, fulfilling even. You loved being taught and having a mentor. You anticipated it being a bit stressful, but this— it was a different kind of stressful. No one warns you of the strain that forms in the back of your head when you have to focus on patients and babysit a small group of 26 year olds for twelve hours. The day had been piling up on you. Mistakes from med students, entitled patients, losing a patient, lack of a full meal. You were at your wits end. The only way you were able to properly emote your frustrations was onto other people.
Your charged stomps slowed down as you leaned against the counter of the nurses station. Catching your exhausted body on the edge, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Two more hours, and then you can go home, is your mantra of choice to get through the rest shift.
“Maybe wanna lighten up on the interns? Before you scare them away into a different department. Or profession.” Robby’s sudden interjection pulled you back into reality, he leaned against the counter with you. Arms hugged around his chest and glasses hanging low on his nose bridge. A pitiful smile curled onto his face. He was just as tired as you were, but in comparison, you are winning the crash out olympics today.
“Want to tell me what happened? Because I’m not quite sure what constitutes cursing out someone in front of their colleagues.” He asked, tilting his head to try and meet your gaze.
A deep huff left your chest, straightening your posture for your attending. Fingers running through your hair and giving your scalp a brief massage to ease the headache. His eyes had that look— one that said: chill the fuck out. Or, that’s the only way your mind could interpret it. Your brain is stuck in fight or flight mode; everything feels like a constant jab at your competence. The tight thread holding you together can’t take an infamous Doctor Michael Robinvitch lecture.
“They fucked up the order! I mean it’s med school 101 to know how to properly write a lab order and send it away.”
“True, but it’s their first week. Things happen. That’s the ups and downs of teaching. Can’t teach well if you’re always blowing up over the small things. It’s important to remember—”
“Oh blow me Robinavitch.” Turning away from him with a scoff. He really was one to talk; you could have sworn of the countless times he had to give you a stern talking to.
Never in your time working at PTMC have you ever had that kind of bite. Especially with Robby, on a normal day you were obedient under his words. Robby turned to look at Dana, who shook her head and never broke her focus on the ipad in her hands.
“Well she’s got quite the potty mouth today.”
Robby sighed, watching as you walked into another trauma room. Picking up your next case, terrorizing your next med student. His hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Swiping through the screen to bring up Jack’s messages.
Robby: Your girlfriend is on a rampage today.
Jack: What the fuck? What happened?
Robby: Well, she told me to blow her after she verbally abused a med student.
Robby: And you know I like to be wined and dined before going to the bedroom.
Jack: Jesus. I’m picking her up, I’ll be there tonight.
The last hours had flown through the emergency department. Night shift staff steadily trickled in to relieve the day shift of their duties. It is a rare night off for Jack. He posted himself up at the nurses station, chatting up with Lena and Dana as he waited for you to emerge from the locker room. Jack kept his eye on the locker room door, just so he can be the first to see for himself how to day put you through the ringer.
“You’re kidding?” He asked, keeping his voice low to avoid the chance of you walking into their conversation.
“Mhm— told them to fix their hand writing and everything. I caught the poor kid writing their ABCs in the breakroom.” Dana recanted the events of the day to Jack with a small, amused smirk on her lips.
“That’s not really like her…” Jack pressed his lips in a straight line, already thinking of the lecture he was to throw at you about respect. He tries not to be that guy in your relationship, knowing you want a partner not a father. But at a time like this, it gets away from him and he feels the need to remind you of the importance of respect and humility within the profession.
“Go easy on her, it was a rough day for her.” Dana’s eyes and eyebrows jutted to point in the opposing direction behind Jack.
He’s quick to turn around and face you, crossing meaty arms over his chest and putting on a happy smile for you. He’s not surprised you were not returning his smile. The corner of your lips drooping down and your eyes had lost most of their glimmer. Trudging to Jack with your backpack hung over your shoulder lazily, he could see how tense you were.
“Hey baby, how was your—”
First stopping at Jack, shoving the bag into his arms, and beelining for the ambulance bay doors. Dismissing his presence as if he was any other person on the side of the street. Blazing a path of wrath. His eyebrows knit together, surprised you had to gall to ignore him like that. Poor Jack, he is no exception to your attitude today.
“Good luck with that.”
The beginning of the car ride is quiet, only the hum of the engine and click of the blinker filling the void of silence. Jack wanted to make an attempt to talk to you again. Ask what he can do to make it better, offer an olive branch to spare him from your claws. But he knew how you were, you need to decompress. He let the silence stay, opting for silent forms of his affection by opening the door for you and taking your bag. As he let the door close behind him, you already disappeared into your apartment. Left alone in the living room, dimly lit by the floor lamp. Slipping his boots off, discarded neatly by the door compared to your sneakers, as if you had thrown them away when you walked in. Jack thought this was how the rest of the night would go, even though you knew he wasn’t keen on ending the day with silence or bitterness. He was very clear in every argument you had, neither of you is going to bed without talking it out.
Jack placed your bag on the bench by the door, sitting to massage the area around his prosthesis. You emerged from the lit bedroom, scrubs removed and changed into your normal house clothes. One of Jack’s old shirts and cotton shorts. He figured now is better than never to talk about how you’ve been acting all day. Pulling himself up, he moved to the kitchen counter, the one that overlooked the sink. He leaned onto it, watching as you floated around the kitchen. You were trying to avoid as little eye contact as possible, but he is searching intently for your eyes. He took a deep breath to talk first, in hopes your mind was clear enough to have a proper conversation.
“So, I heard you had a little run in with a med student. And Robby.”
You stop what you’re doing, grabbing on to the edge of the counter. You lull your head back and take a long, irritated breath.
“Why? Did your boyfriend tattle on me?” You quip.
Obviously, you didn’t clear your head enough, or at all. His head hung low, developing a headache. Taking a long, deep breath to engage with your temper.
“No— he didn’t tattle,” yes he did. “He expressed… some concern about your performance today.”
Shaking your head, refusing to answer as you fill up a glass of water. The little angel in your head agreed, you were rude to that med student. You’re sure you made the same mistake before. And you knew you didn’t have enough tenure in the ED to be given a pass of the ‘bitchy’ teacher, you were only an R2. But this isn’t about you, it’s about how everything around you chose today as the day to be inconvenient. Is it too much to ask for one day of the year to go in your favor? It’s the principle, although you were most likely using that justification loosely.
“You can’t talk to an attending like that. If it was anyone else, you could have gotten written up. HR meetings aren’t all that fun you know?” Jack ducked his head to try and meet your eyes. Keeping your stare down at the very interesting cup of water.
“Boohoo, it’s not like I cursed him out.”
“You told him to blow you.”
“Exactly. Not a swear word said.”
Before Jack could try to get another word in, you turn yourself away and shuffle into the bedroom. Closing the door behind you with a louder thud than necessary. He puffed, frustrated that you weren’t giving him the time to actually talk things out with you. It’s not to say he’s caught off guard by your behavior. You’ve had your off days, you weren’t always sunshine and rainbows. And you especially aren’t so mouthy with him. Something about today was getting on his nerves quicker than he should let it. He wasn’t the one that messed up your lab order or tried to lecture you during a heavy shift, so why can’t you spare him?
Jack follows you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. It also let out a loud thud, his irritation coming out in little pieces. That strain formed in his head, handling the door with unnecessary power, grinding his teeth with his clenched jaw. Jack did not want the first interaction of the day with you to be brewing into an argument.
“Honey, you can’t walk away from me when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”
“Really? Because I did right now.” Your voice comes out steady, that little hint of bitterness hot on your tongue. It becomes a stand off in the middle of the bedroom. Hands on your hips and narrowing your eyes at him as he steps a little bit closer to you. “And from what I remember, you used to be just as bad too, so I don’t know why you’re coming at me on such a high horse!”
Jack tensed his jaw, any more he was going to need to go to the dentist for teeth grinding. That stung a little bit, maybe a lot. Jack isn’t proud of how he used to be, pre-therapy and post-the loss of his wife. But he grew from that, and you saw how that growth turned him into the man he is today. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips thin, holding back from letting your words get to him.
“I’m not lecturing you. You have to understand— yelling at med students and your attending. That’s not something we do.”
“Not what we do? Last time I checked Jack, you aren't my attending! I don’t have to listen to this or you.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m your attending or not, it’s my obligation as an attending to help you learn that throwing a tantrum—” His voice gets rougher, less collected than he typically is. Jack attempts to put a caring hand on your shoulder, but you swat his hand away.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child Jack!”
“I have to because you’re acting like one! But what else should I expect from my immature girlfriend, hm?”
You took the highest offense being called immature, especially when Jack knew that was a sore spot in your relationship, being immature compared to him. The anger bubbles over, the heat of the work day follows you into your own home, unwelcomed. Without thinking, you raise a hand to the air. Quickly, just want to give him a taste of how his words make you feel. Before it can even come close to his face, Jack’s hand catches your wrist and puts it into a tight hold. The pads of his fingertips press down deep enough to feel your racing heartbeat. He yanks you towards him, chest on chest, closing the gap that has existed between you for hours.
As you try to get the next words out from your lips, a rough hand catches the back of your head and pulls you in for a deep, sloppy kiss. Teeth hitting and drool starting to leak from the corner of your lips as Jack carries out an attack on your lips. Tongue forcing your lips apart and invading the wet cavern. It erupts a moan from your throat that you wanted to keep secret. Jack knew exactly how to render you speechless. The hand on the back of your neck tangles into your hair, keeping a tight grip. Your hand that started out balled into a fist relaxes and rests on his chest, slowly running up to hook around his neck. When he pulls away, panting for air, his gaze is heavy on you. It turned dark and vicious. Those barbed-wire lined walls you had up all day were crashing down around you. And Jack had a sledgehammer.
“Jack…” Melting into putty in his arms as you whimper as he pulls away.
“What happened? A little kiss made you all soft?” He flips you around his hold, pinning the held wrist behind your back. He guided you to the bed, shoving you to bend over the soft mattress. That rough grip in your hair pushes the side of your face into the mattress, only able to see just over your shoulder.
You whine when he presses his crotch into your cotton covered ass. The tent in his pants prodding at the curve of your ass and rutting up. You are sure Jack could feel that drip in your panties forming a little wet spot. He continues to rub his bulge up and down your ass, catching it occasionally on your increasingly wet mound. Taking his hand away from your hair and moving it next to your head, keeping himself up as he leans over you.
“Who do you think you are… trying to slap me— fuck. After all I do for you…” His hot breath floods the back of your neck, panting like a dog. You want to respond, tell him he’s wrong, but you choke on moans.
You try to move your hips up, feel more of him on your aching cunt. But his hips and hold on your wrist keeps you still. When he pulls himself away, the grip on your wrist is free, feeling the ache slowly blur into your body. You want to move, whip yourself around and give him a piece of mind for being so forward with you. But the raw, agitated energy emanating from Jack was enough to keep you down, growing compliant. Jack grabs the hem of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. A large hand kneads the skin, pinching and watching the heat manifest as color from his touch. Humming, you lean yourself into his touch. A finger loops around the fabric of your panties that bars him from seeing your leaking pussy. Coating his knuckle as he pulls the fabric down and away from you. You close your eyes in hopes of getting a blissful night to alleviate the stress of the day. One sudden strike at your ass brings you back down from the clouds. Crying out Jack’s name as he rings another slap on to burning skin.
“I pick you up from work, pay your rent, make you cum whenever you ask— ‘n you can’t even give me the decency of respect when I talk to you?” Another harsh, personal, spank to your abused flesh.
You bury your face into the sheets, muffling the painful gasps that mix with needy moans. Soaking up the little tears that prick the corner of your eyes. You twitch in response to his hands on your body, your nervous system preparing to feel swipes at your bare ass. He pauses, must be taking in the sight of your skin littered with the faint outline of his hand. The result of your moody spirit. You lift your head away from the bed, sniffling a little as you bite your lip to wish away the pain.
“Jack… please..” Ground your elbows into the bed and try to bring yourself up. You couldn’t bear to not be able to look him in the face. Even though you struggled to confidently make eye contact.
“Now you want to be nice? ‘S too late for that honey…” Jack clicks his tongue disapprovingly. One hand now holding your hip while two fingers swipe up the slick on the folds of your pussy. You gasp, relaxing your body back into the mattress.
He doesn’t wait for you to catch up with him, plugging his fingers into your cunt. Your walls immediately flutter around him, wanting to suck him in deeper. He holds off, wanting to go at his own pace. Only reaching to the second knuckle, and pumping thick fingers shallowly inside you. You hum with this pace, it was just enough to scratch that growing itch in your core.
“Look at you… all happy I’m playing with your pussy. Could have had this way earlier if you cooperated, brat.” His hand on your hip left to swat at your ass again. Eliciting a cry of his name with a moan as the pain mixed with the pleasure brewing inside you.
“There she is— my good girl. God, you’re so easy.” He loves the sounds you make for him. The words brewed inside your head, because you haven’t been good at all. You were being a pain all day to anyone within the vicinity. And it got you to this position, bent over the bed at Jack’s mercy.
His fingers slide deeper past your lips, the palm of his hand flush with your skin when he reaches as deep as he can. Shaking beneath him when his pace grows faster, the sinful sound of your wetness squishing on his fingers. It really is punishment, pay back, the way the tip of his fingers brush over that sensitive spot inside you. But he doesn’t bother to stay there, saying hello and quickly leaving. You groan, frustrated that he’s toying with you and not giving in to what you want. Not that you’re asking, more so expecting it. Pushing your hips back to deepen his pace, he quickly slips his fingers away from you. Shaking his head in disapproval.
“You just can’t be patient, can you?” You can hear his belt collide with the hard wood floor, and the sound of heavy fabric falling.
A tingle goes up your spine, like a spidey sense. Because you have been in this kind of position before; where he picks you up by the thighs and fucks into you while you hang over the edge of the bed. Your feet once flat on the floor, press up on to tippy toes, waiting for him to use his strength on you. A few seconds go by, and he hasn’t moved. Your eyebrows knit together, looking over your shoulder and seeing him standing behind you. Arms crossed, looking down at you with an expectant expression, his cock so casually stiff in the air.
“Jack, what are you waiting for?” you ask with a frown.
He leans over you, arms caging you in as the brace onto the bed. His lips dip close to you, giving you words for only you to hear.
“You’re going to come at me with an attitude— when I did nothing to you by the way— and expect me to do all the work?” humming into your ear, expecting one of your smart ass responses. He looks down to your glistening slit, he wants to dive in so bad and show you a good time. But there is a lesson to be taught here.
You stutter over yourself. You never had to ask Jack to do anything to you; he knew how to treat you and what you liked, what made you feel good. You felt silly having to plead to him to fuck you properly.
“You can reach baby, I’m not doing any of the work for you— since you think you know better than me.”
I never said that… is all you can mumble. Jack thought you would put up a fight, but so easily compliant in this state, he watches as you push yourself up by the toes more. Your slit that had been weeping from the lack of attention, glistened in the bedroom light. It brushes the tip of his cock ever so slightly, making you hiss at the small amount of friction. You struggle to even catch him between your folds, constantly bouncing on your toes. Jack bites through his smirk, enjoying the sight of you. Helpless and impatient, willing to do as much as it takes just to feel him inside of you. It’s pitiful, the comparison from earlier in the night to now. Defiant of Jack, ready to slap him when he threw it back at you. Now you’re a dripping, whimpering mess, so eager to feel the slightest touch of his cock against your pussy.
“I— I can’t do it Jack… I can’t reach…” You deflate into the bed, sad whining muffled in the sheets.
It is pathetic, you are a doctor for christ's sake. You should be demanding him in this instance to fuck you right now. But Jack loves to watch. The way your ass jiggles with the bounce of your toes, trying to rock back to try and catch his cock between your folds. He let this go on for what felt like 30 minutes (it was only 3 minutes). Jack let out a deep sigh, a once stern hand turned comforting on your hip. Brushing his thumb against the skin and cooing to you. He moves his hips forward just a little pit, the tiniest tough of his tip against your cunt. It was nothing but everything at the same time. It sent that buzz of anticipation up and down your spine. As you start to rock yourself again, both of Jack’s hands press down your hips pressing you into the bed again. He is still in control here, he’ll go in when he’s ready. In a tortuous pace, his cock slips in between the folds. He holds in a deep groan from finally feeling your warmth enveloped around his cock. You cry out a soft whimper from the slow stretch of your pussy. Even with how slow Jack was going, his girth is like retribution. A brutal size you thought you have gotten used to by now. He reaches the halfway point and stops, prompting another frustrated groan from you. Clearly have not learned about the stakes of your predicament yet.
“How bad do you want it, sweetheart?” He asks. You mumble into the mattress.
He pulls out just a little bit. “Ah-ah, I said— How bad do you want it?”
Lifting your head away from the sheets, your head slumps over. Jack can see you weren’t in the mood to be good still. But he doesn’t have to act anymore, he knows the more you wait, the more time spent not getting pounded.
“I want it really bad, Jack...” you whine.
“Yeah? What do you have to say then?”
“God, not this now, Jack. Just fucking—” cut off by that same swat on your ass. It shuts you right up.
“Wanna try that one more time?” you nod. “What do you have to say to me?” from the tone of his voice, you can tell Jack does not want to ask again.
Shamefully keeping your eyes down, “I’m sorry that I tried to slap you and argue with you, Jack. I won’t do it again…”
Jack hums but doesn’t answer. Making a show of him considering your apology. He should really make you work for it; force you on to your knees and show how sorry you are with his mouth. But he can’t deny, Jack is growing just as impatient as you were. This night should have ended with sex without all the fighting and huffing. His hand glides down to your thigh, brushing the skin.
“You gonna apologize to Robby and the med students too?” giving you a warning squeeze. If you answer correctly, everyone will be happy.
Nodding your head, you peak over your shoulder. Eyes damp from tears and hopeful to get the proper kind of release. It is enough to make Jack crumble for you all over again. At last, Jack hums with approval. A happy tap on your skin as he scoops his hands under your thigh and hoists your legs up. He grips right under your hips for the best leverage. Jack is really testing how much strength and stamina he has left at this age. You yelp as the sudden pull moves your hips up, meeting Jack at a better, and deeper, angle. Pushing himself so deep it punches up into that sensitive spot. He finally gives in to that satisfying rock of his hips, letting out a deep groan.This is all both of you wanted. Impaling you with such a force you felt like Jack was going to split you in half. Sweet moans spur him on more, releasing all of the night's irritation on to your helpless cunt.
Jack revels in the feeling of your velvety walls dragging along the veins of his cock. Squeezing down and taking the shape of his girth, like you were made to be filled by him. The whole predicament— arguing, him mandling you, and fucking you with such punishing force, it made your pussy drool and tighten for him. He can tell exactly what you’re feeling just by the way your walls clench around him.
“Such a good girl, you love getting your pussy filled by my cock, huh?” He says through gritted teeth and low groans.
You can’t give a coherent response, too caught up in the motions all you can do is offer him slutty moans. The tips of his fingers dig into your plush skin, an iron grip dragging your body like a toy on his cock. Jack musters enough strength to lift every so slightly. The new angle makes all the difference as the top of his cock bullies up on your soft spot. The impact forces you to see fireworks in your hazy eyes.
“Shit— Jack!” Your body lurches forward from the force of his hips.
“Fuuck, sweetheart. Feel so good around me, need you to cum f’me.” Jack occasionally had to adjust his grip on your hips, trying so hard to not get lost in the pleasure that he drops your legs on accident. “I know you’re close— rub that pretty little clit for me.”
Your hand snakes under your body, delicate fingers shakily running small, fast circles are the bud. Eyes pressed shut and moans pouring from your lips. That knot deep down came rushing to the surface with each thrust of his hips. Your release is slowly coaxed from deep within you, your thighs and knees pressing against Jack’s, locking him in place. It feels like a wave rushes over your body, your orgasm crashing through you in ripples. Body shaking while your hands grip on to wrinkled bedsheets.
“Ooooh god, Jack!”
“That’s it baby, make a mess on me.”
Jack’s hands slowly let go of your hips and help in letting your feet meet the floor. As soon as you limp in bliss, he lets his pace become self-indulgent. Cock pistoning in and out of your pussy while your walls still clench around him in post-orgasm glory. Pushing himself deep, right to the hilt, he lets his seed slip inside you. Flooding your silky walls with hot, white cum. It leaves a satisfying warmth with you. Jack moans and crones through his release, a thrust or two to push all of his load deep within you. He tries not to fall on top of you when the fog clears from his head. A little drips of cum leaking from you as he pulls out, half-limp cock slick with a mixture of your desire and his cum.
“Jesus, Jack.”
“I should be saying that to you. All that huffing, puffing, and yelling. If you wanted it so badly baby all you had to do is ask.” He teased, a lazy smirk on his lips.
Crawling up the bed a bit, you manage to turn yourself over for the first time supporting your weight on your elbows. Panting heavily as you take in the sight of a sweaty, fucked out Jack. It is an insatiable sight; little beads of sweat dripping from his neck to his chest, the tuft of hair above his cock damp with body fluids. Jack eyes the scheming smirk on your face. Lifting your foot to poke at his stomach.
“I don’t know if I learned my lesson yet. You weren’t the most… convincing.” Pursing your lips and trailing your eyes from his firm stomach, all the way up to his lingering eyes.
“Yeah? I guess I have some more gas in the tank to teach you, brat.”
Jack grabs your ankle and yanks your body back towards him, a high and excited squeal coming from you.
“Hi.”
The med students whips around, eyes widened and already shaking. A trauma response from the incident a couple of days ago. You had a basket in your hand, filled with muffins, fruit, and a random energy drink you picked up from the story. Holding it out from them, you try to come off with a gracious expression rather than guilt.
“I’m sorry for how I spoke— treated— you earlier this week. I was out of line and you’re still getting the hang of things around here. I was stressed and I should not have taken it out on you. ‘Sorry for yelling at you’ basket?” Giving them a crooked smile and handing the basket to them.
It follows with a short conversation, exchanging necessary apologies and coming to an agreement it was an off day for everyone that day. You felt embarrassed having to apologize for behavior that could have been completely avoidable if you remembered what emotional regulation skills are. In the end, you are glad no bridges were burned. An ease settled over your body as the med student walked away with a softer smiler than before.
“And where’s my basket?” Robby pipped in.
“Jack said you would rather have an eight pack over a basket. And I think I would be in more trouble if I brought beer into the workplace.”
Robby didn’t care to cover up the deep huff of laughter. Bringing a pat to your shoulder as he shook his head.
“I need to know what Jack did to get you to come to your senses. Could use it on you if you ever feel like shooting at me again.” Robby said contently.
You scrunch your face, “No you don’t, Robby.”
“Why not?” he asks, les confused more intrigued.
“You’d have to ask Jack for permission. I know you guys are close, but I don’t know if you’re close enough to share.”
You turn on your heels and walk away quickly, trying to stifle the little giggle inside your throat. Robby runs his hand over his mouth and beard, slowly catching up with what you were putting down. He scrunches his own face, shaking his head to clear away the dirty thoughts.
Faye Lupin-Black, the Casanova of the Grifindor tower, falls for Neville Longbottom.
AN: finally chapter 1!! Please tell me anything
Faye Lupin Black had given up on love long before she'd ever experienced it.
It wasn't heartbreak that convinced her. It was her father’s.
Growing up with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin was like living inside one of those ridiculous romance novels the girls in Ravenclaw whispered about after curfew. They still looked at each other like they'd survived the world just to end up in the same room. They laughed too loudly, argued too dramatically, and somehow managed to make even making tea seem intimate.
Faye had spent seventeen years watching a love story no one else could possibly live up to.
So she stopped expecting anyone to.
That didn't mean she didn't enjoy the chase.
Flirting was fun. Dates were entertaining. Kissing was nice enough.
Commitment?
Absolutely not.
Unfortunately for the male—and occasionally female—population of Hogwarts, Faye loved to dabble.
It wasn't uncommon to hear about the poor soul who'd fallen into her orbit only to have their heart handed back to them a few weeks later. She wasn't cruel. Quite the opposite, actually. Faye was painfully honest from the beginning. People simply had an irritating habit of believing they could change her mind.
They never did.
By now, her reputation had spread through Hogwarts faster than the latest Daily Prophet headline.
Some admired her.
Some avoided her.
Some were convinced they would be the one to finally tame Faye Lupin Black.
She wished them luck.
"You've got half the seventh-years asking if you're coming to Hogsmeade this weekend."
Faye looked up from where she sat between Fred and George at the Gryffindor table.
"Only half?"
Fred snorted into his pumpkin juice.
"Your ego's showing."
"It never left."
George leaned across the table.
"I've got five Galleons riding on you rejecting Thomas Corner by Friday."
"You bet on my love life?"
"We bet on everything."
Before Faye could argue, someone stopped beside the table.
"Sorry to interrupt."
The voice was quiet but steady.
Neville Longbottom stood beside George, a wooden crate tucked beneath one arm and a potted plant in the other.
"I brought the Shrivelfigs you asked for."
George immediately brightened.
"Brilliant! You're a lifesaver."
Fred took the crate with surprising care.
"We owe you."
"You don't owe me anything." Neville smiled, small but genuine. "Just don't forget they need watering every other day."
"We won't."
"You will."
"We probably will."
Neville chuckled, shaking his head before turning to leave.Faye watched him disappear into the crowd.
"...That's Neville Longbottom?"
Fred frowned.
"What about him?"
"I don't know."
She'd expected... something else.
Instead, he'd walked over, delivered exactly what he came to deliver, earned the twins' respect without asking for it, and left without sticking around for praise.
How odd.
How... refreshing.
George caught the look on her face.
"No."
She blinked.
"No?"
George pointed a warning finger at her.
"You are not allowed to flirt with Neville."
Fred nodded gravely.
"We like him too much."
Faye scoffed, though the corners of her lips tugged upward.
"What? You think I'm going to corrupt him?"
Fred looked genuinely offended.
"Corrupt him? No."
George nodded in agreement.
“We think you'll flirt with him because he's pretty."
"I do not flirt with people because they're pretty."
The twins stared at her.
She sighed.
"Fine. Sometimes I flirt with people because they're pretty."
"Exactly."
"But Neville?" she asked, glancing toward the doors he'd disappeared through.
"He's... different."
Fred smirked.
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"The face."
She frowned.
"What face?"
"The one you make when you're curious."
"I am not curious."
George snorted.
"You've looked over there three times."
"Faye scoffed, though the corners of her lips tugged upward.
"What? You think I'm going to corrupt him?"
Fred looked genuinely offended.
"Corrupt him? No."
George nodded in agreement.
"We think you'll flirt with him because he's pretty."
"I do not flirt with people because they're pretty."
The twins stared at her.
She sighed.
"Fine. Sometimes I flirt with people because they're pretty."
“Exactly."
"You've looked over there three times."
"I was observing."
“You were staring."
"I was appreciating the scenery."
"The scenery left five minutes ago."
Faye opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Annoyingly, George wasn't wrong.
There hadn't been anything particularly extraordinary about Neville Longbottom.
He wasn't loud.
He wasn't trying to catch anyone's attention.
He hadn't stumbled over his words or hidden behind the twins, either. He'd simply walked over, delivered the plants, exchanged a few words, and left.
Confident.
Not in the way Quidditch captains were confident, always chasing applause and admiration.
It was quieter than that.
As though he didn't need anyone to tell him he was good at something because he already knew.
Faye found herself wondering what else he knew.
Fred nudged her shoulder.
"Don't hurt him."
She blinked.
"I haven't even spoken to him."
"We know."
George grinned.
"But we also know you."
Faye rolled her eyes, standing from the Gryffindor table.
"I'll have you know, I have absolutely no intention of flirting with Neville Longbottom."
Fred called after her as she walked away.
"You've already said his full name twice!"
She froze for half a second.
"...Have I?"
The twins burst into laughter.
Faye muttered something that sounded suspiciously like traitors before disappearing into the bustling corridor.
She wasn't interested.
She was simply...
Curious.
And curiosity had always been her greatest weakness.
summary: You keep disappearing. Remus keeps noticing. And somewhere along the way, Spidergirl is beginning to sound more familiar every day.
tags: fem!reader. spidergirl!reader. spiderman au. friends to lovers. slowburn. genderbend spiderman x gwen stacy? blood and violence mentions related to this universe.
series moodboard
part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen
Steve’s afraid to hurt you. You just have to ease him into you it.
contents: steve harrington x reader; reader with a vagina and breasts; newly established relationship; boyfriend!steve; just the tip trope!!!; mentions of painful intercourse; reader is referred to as a good girl once!; hung!steve <3; sorta size queen reader <3
minors, do not interact!!
author’s note: short n sweet lil thing for u… hope you enjoy <3
“Can I be honest?” you murmur against Steve’s lips.
He’s half dressed under you, and you’re nearly nude on top of him. The bed dips under your knees as you sit prettily on his lap, your underwear turning translucent with each kiss you exchange.
Steve’s fingers adjust on your plush hips. He’s on Cloud Nine, hardly even listening. “Hm?”
You laugh a little, pulling back just a smidge. Steve’s eyes are unfocused as he opens them slowly to look at you.
“You’re much more patient than I thought you’d be.”
He grins lazily. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Think you’re a little too patient, maybe.”
He blinks, eyes still cloudy, love-struck and drunk on you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You sigh, then lean in again. “Nothing,” you whisper, catching his lips in yours.
Steve doesn’t push it, though he makes a mental note for later. He’s a little too worked up to think clearly right now, anyway. You grind down on his pelvis, swallowing a moan that he can’t hold back. You’re patient with him as he redirects you to his thigh, and you placate him by riding it for a while.
Steve’s so kind, pressing kisses along the column of your neck. “Take what you need, honey.”
You pause. “You mean it?”
His tongue darts out to taste the salt on your skin. “Mhm.”
Gently, slowly, you pull his cock out of his underwear. It’s a shock that he even lets you.
Here’s the thing: Steve knows you’re going to break in two whenever he finally gets himself inside of you, and he’s simply not in the game of doing so. In fact, he’s always sort of diverting your attention to any part of him that isn’t his dick.
You’ve become intimately familiar with his hands, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. And he’s returned the favor — explored you all over with precision, not a spot left untouched, not a trick unlearned. He studies you, commits you to memory. He murmurs that he’s taking his time with you, that he’s in no rush.
You can’t really say the same. You’ve been with him, officially, for just over two months. He’s given you at least forty orgasms, and he’s let you give him zero in return.
Personally, you don’t think it’s very fair.
Steve’s whimpering as you stroke him, biting his lip and doing everything in his power to not bust just from a fucking hand job. It’s the first time he’s let you give him any attention, and it’s pushing him into hyper-gear. His whole body feels aflame, each tendon straining against the pleasure that every fiber of his being wants. He’s lost in you, his eyes drifting shut as you take care of him.
You manage to knock Steve out of his stupor by suddenly swiping the tip of him through your petal-soft folds. He gasps, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You both moan, ragged and rough, and it takes all of Steve’s self restraint to redirect your hips again. He opens his mouth to scold you, but you beat him to it.
“Jesus Christ, Steve, please?”
Your tone makes his cock pulse in your hand. Sweat beads at his hairline, his cheeks pink as he tries to steady his breath.
“Uh-uh,” he says. Calm. Measured. “Baby, you know I —“
“The tip, then,” you plead. “Just the tip, Steve, I swear. I know I can take it. Need it so bad.”
Your hand strokes him again and he moans, teeth piercing his lip.
“I —“
You press your lips against the shell of his ear and lower your voice just a tad.
“Steve, I can be so good for you if you’d just let me.”
His mouth falls open. His fingers flex against your hips. “But — you are so good for me.”
“Well, let me be good-er.”
He rolls his eyes, exhaling a laugh through his nose. “Got you that worked up, huh?”
You hum, kissing down his jaw. “Imagine how stupid I’ll go when you finally fuck me.”
Now it clicks.
“Is that what you meant when you said I’m too patient?”
You return to pumping him slowly, and he swallows hard.
“Mhm. Your worst quality.”
Steve forces himself to get serious. He tilts your chin up with the bridge of his nose, making you look at him, while one of his big hands covers yours to stop your movements.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
You’re so serious. “It’s going to hurt. And that’s okay.”
He frowns and cups your jaw, shaking his head a little. “No, it’s not.”
He sees that you’re getting shy, looking away from him. It takes you a moment to find your words.
“I want to be shaped by you. I want you to make it a perfect fit.”
Somehow, it’s all at once the most blasphemous and romantic thing Steve’s ever heard.
He’s stunned by it, in fact.
“I’m sorry,” you start, but Steve cuts you off.
“The — the tip? Only?”
You smile. It endears him. “I can settle for that. I just — I want you.”
Steve shivers. You’ve positively rewired his brain chemistry with a singular phrase.
You can hardly take two fingers while he preps you for it over the next twenty minutes. Praising you, always so kind and gentle with you as he works you through it.
“Taking it so good, angel… that’s my girl, yeah?”
He eventually fishes a condom out of his nightstand. You boost his ego, watching with wide, blown pupils as he rolls it on.
“It’s pretty,” you mumble.
“Pretty?”
You move to straddle him again, the head of him knocking into your clit. You jolt, and Steve’s cock kicks.
“Yes, Steve. You’re very pretty.”
He nuzzles his nose against yours and presses another gentle kiss to your lips. “You’re prettier.”
“Stop stalling.”
He runs his hands up your thighs and settles them on your hips again. He takes a deep breath.
“Relax for me, baby.”
By the time Steve’s popped inside of you, you’re both sweating, moaning, gripping onto each other tightly as you pant into each other’s mouths. Your hot, wet cunt strangles the tip of him, begs him to go in deeper.
“Feels so good.” His voice cracks from the exertion of keeping his hips still. “You’re so g— goddamn beautiful.”
You clench around him even tighter. He lets out a strangled yelp, burying his head into the apex of your neck and shoulder. He busies himself with sucking a hickey into your skin, savoring the taste of you and trying to stave off the overwhelming need to shove every last inch of himself inside of you.
And then — cruelly — you sink down further.
Steve’s eyes and head roll back immediately. His thighs shake, a needy, desperate sound finding his way past his kiss bitten lips.
“Honey — honey —“
“Can’t stop myself,” you whimper, rocking gently, managing another half-inch. “You feel so good, Steve.”
His eyes rake down your chest, doing a double-take at your tits before setting his eyes lower. The evidence of your struggle is clear, and Steve hates what the sight does to him. You’re so stretched out around him. He knows it hurts, yet you’re a mess between the legs, even soaking the part of him that’s not inside of you with honey-sweet arousal.
“Holy shit,” he mumbles.
You take advantage of his gaze to lean back in his lap, giving him a better view. Slowly, almost meanly, you fuck yourself on his tip.
Steve doesn’t know where to look. Your thighs and stomach quiver with each movement. There’s a wet sucking noise each time he pops out and pops back in. Your eyes roll, your back arching, tits sitting prettily at eye level.
“Gorgeous,” he moans breathlessly. One hand snakes between your legs, pressing his thumb to your clit, trying to soothe the pain. “Look so fuckin’ good like this —“
“I know,” you moan, pussy tightening from the praise. The ghost of a smile sits at the corner of your lips, all smug.
“Don’t get cute,” he groans, his hands moving to grip your ass. “Still just the tip, babe.”
You lean forward, pressing your dewy forehead against his. “Help me take the rest, then.”
Just the thought makes his cock throb, and you wince at it. Still, though, you keep moving, gently taking as much as you can — hardly over an inch — and pulling needy noises out of Steve.
“F— fuck — n-next time,” he pants, strangled moans interrupting him. “Next time, I promise —“
Your hand moves downward, gently wrapping around the rest of his shaft. Steve cries out, his body shaking, his hips accidentally jutting upwards.
“Shit!” you breathe, your movements stammering.
Steve’s heart shatters.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, lifting you off of him. He tenderly cups your pussy with his hand, the warmth soothing it. “I’m so sorry, honey. Let’s stop, yeah?”
You shake your head adamantly, huffing at him.
“Steve Harrington,” you pant, settling yourself over his cock again, “I am making you come tonight, and so help me God, it better be from my pussy.”
His eyes widen and his cock kicks again as you slowly sit down on him. He simply nods, too turned on to speak and even a little breathless. You have him so whipped for you.
“You’re perfect,” he strains.
You kiss the tip of his nose. “Let’s make sure of it.”
"In plain sight" means in a place that is clearly visible. Ex: "the way you felt about Spencer Reid, was a feeling hidden in plain sight." And for you, feeling hidden and exposed around that genius was torture.
Warnings: ANY chapter with NSFW will have a tag and a warning in here, therefore there will be NSFW content in this series(sexual or graphic violence).
DISCLAIMER: The reader does not use a name, occasionaly being called by "she" "her" and "cupcake" as Derek named her. While most dialogue is of my own creation, some dialogue is taken directly from the show as a matter of course, due to the type of work I am creating. Characters found in the current series not found within Criminal Minds(US) are of my own creation.
This series is written during the first season, beginning at episode 4 (Plain Sight, yeah), real timeline of 2007.
Me? Back out of nowhere with an Embry fic? Idk I missed yall so here you go 💝
Reader finds herself increasingly horny after discovering smut and enlists Embry to help.
—————————————————————
You had made fast friends with Embry, Quil, and Jacob after moving here, but it wasn’t until a couple months in that you learned (or found out– thanks Quil) about their shapeshifting tendencies. And it wasn’t until two months ago that Embry pulled you aside at a bonfire one night to express his undying love in the form of an imprint bond. You were terrified– you’d never even had a boyfriend! And now one of your closest friends was basically telling you that you guys were tethered for life. Embry had told you that this could look however you wanted… he would love to be with you, but would be more than happy to stay friends as long as you wanted. Forever, if that was what you wanted. In your panic at the whole situation, you told Embry you wanted to stay friends. He masked his disappointment well, but was a devoted friend, never overstepping or asking for more in fear of making you uncomfortable or pushing you away.
Sure, Embry was totally cute, and you had found yourself admiring him in more ways than one, but you had to stay friends. Not because you liked someone else or weren’t interested in commitment. It was because of your vaginismus. What guy would ever want to date a girl that had so many issues with sex? You could never do that to Embry. He had to be free to explore this part of life that was so important to young guys. You would just be a burden, always stopping due to pain or clamming up from the nerves. And so friends you stayed.
—————————————————————-
Fan fiction was an incredible outlet for romantic hopes you couldn’t act on. Recently, you found yourself diving into the Tumblr rabbit hole that is smut. The possibilities explored through writing were insane– you’d seen porn, sure, but this always seemed to focus on the man in the situation. It never caught your interest, let alone turned you on. But this– this writing by random strangers online stirred feelings you didn’t know you had.
You were horny.
It was tough to act on anything because of your inexperience. You tried touching yourself, but didn’t find much sensation. You thought about toys, but shied away at the thought of having to hide something so blatantly sexual in your bedroom. What if your parents found it?
Thoughts like this raced through your mind as you sat with Emily on her couch watching a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy. Suddenly, a cacophony of footsteps charging through the front door pulled you away. The boys were back from patrol! Emily got up to start serving lunch while you lingered in the doorway of the kitchen, ready to help her if need be but able to join the boys’ conversation from the table. You must have caught them mid-chat.
“No way you did it right, dude,” said Paul. “If she wasn’t shaking, it wasn’t real.”
“C’mon, man! The ladies can’t get enough of this,” countered Jared. “I’m like a sex master.”
This was met with a round of teasing and punching from the rest of the guys. Apparently, Jared was getting restless waiting for his imprint bond to kick in, so he’d taken to Tinder to satiate his needs. The guys seemed to think he hadn’t satisfied his partner.
He continued, “Right when they start to clench up, you throw in a twist and start pounding. That’s what does it.” This seemed to align more with the male-centered videos you’d watched, and less with your favorite fics, but what did you know? You were a virgin with a vagina that refused to be penetrated who’d never even had an orgasm.
“You got it all wrong,” said Quil, “if the bed ain’t rattling from the start, she’s probably bored.”
You cringed internally at the thought of Quil ramming it into some poor, unsuspecting girl with no warm-up.
“You guys are such show-offs,” Embry chimed in, shaking his head as he picked at his muffin.
“Oh yeah? How about you enlighten us to the Embry technique, then,” challenged Jared, eager for the conversation to pull away from his own practices in bed.
“Girls like it gentle, and you can’t be changing shit up when they’re close. You have to just pick something that works and stick to it. And foreplay is key. Don’t be jamming it in as soon as the pants come off, Quil.” Embry spoke. The guys let out impressed huffs as you felt your face warming.
Now that sounded a lot more like the writing you had read. Maybe Embry really knew what he was talking about. Maybe he could give you the feelings you’d read about… and he was pretty cute. You probably wouldn’t have to persuade him much, either, with the whole imprint thing. As the conversation between the guys changed to car repairs, you were stuck fantasizing about Embry’s skills, and whether they were as good as he let on.
____________________________
Another week passed, but this was full of knowing glances from Emily as you found yourself drooling over Embry. How could you not? His bronzed lean body was never wearing a shirt, and he was basically in love with you. Of course, his words to the guys about pleasuring women had never left your head. You’d even attempted taking care of yourself multiple more times to the thought of him, but time and time again, you were reminded how inexperienced you were with your own body as you were left unsatisfied.
You and Embry sat on his bedroom floor playing Mario Kart while waiting for Quil to arrive for your geology study session. When you drove your kart off the track and into the water for the 3rd time in 40 seconds, Embry laughed over at you, “Everything okay?”
His voice was laced with the smallest hint of genuine concern.
“Just have a lot on my mind is all,” you responded, dropping your controller as the race ended.
“You’re gonna pass this test, I know it,” he turned to you. “You have like the best grade in class, don’t stress.”
“It’s not about the test,” you laughed, flattered by his praise.
“Oh… Anything you wanna talk about?” he prodded.
There he sat, shirtless and adorable, and all you could think about was how his warm skin would feel against your own.
“Have you ever… nevermind,” you started but then chickened out.
“What is it?” he chirped. “I’m an open book, Y/N.”
You bit your lip as you thought. Of all the people on this Earth, Embry was the one you trusted the most. You shut away the anxiety that told you he only wanted to be friends. He imprinted on you. You had him wrapped around your finger, and there was nothing to be scared of.
“Have you ever had sex?” you finally questioned, burying your face in the excess fabric of the hoodie you were wearing. Embry’s hoodie.
Unable to see his face, you detected a hint of teasing laced in excitement in his tone.
“Yes, I have.”
“What… what is it like?” you stammered.
Seeing your extreme nerves, Embry made a point to speak calmly and confidently in attempt to allow you to open up more.
“It feels good,” he commented. “As long as you are with someone you like. Why do you ask?”
“Because-” you stopped yourself, questioning if you should press for more information. “I just- I heard you guys talking about it the other day and I’ve always wondered what stuff like that feels like, but I can’t do it by myself.” You rambled the last part and felt a hot blush rise up your neck and face. Had you said too much?
Embry smiled. You were just curious, he realized. No, he could tell by your blush and fidgeting fingers that it was more than that. You were horny.
“Well, what have you tried?” he questioned.
“Embry! I’m not gonna say it out loud!” Humiliation started to rise at the thought of detailing your previous attempts out loud.
“Why not? It’s something we all do…”
Your mind wandered to an image of Embry touching himself, causing a hot stone to settle in your stomach.
“Maybe I can give you some tips,” he added.
You decided in that moment to be brave and share. “I haven’t even tried that much, to be honest. I just use my hand but it never feels like anything. I have to be doing it wrong but I can’t find anything online about how you’re supposed to.”
“There’s no perfect way. You just have to try doing different things and see what you like. Here– what turns you on?”
“I don’t know…” you started, pondering. “I guess kissing?”
“Okay,” he started, trying to suppress the need to aww at your innocence. “What else?”
“Maybe like, muscles? Tan skin? I don’t know,” you started rambling out your thoughts,” I like watching you wash your car,” you spoke before you could catch yourself. Silence overtook the room as you slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide in horror at what you just said.
A few seconds later, Embry smirked, “I turn you on?”
Well, too late to back track now.
“I just mean, whenever you guys were talking in the kitchen about sex, and like, you seemed to know what you were talking about… I don’t know.” You sighed in defeat.
“It’s okay, Y/N, you turn me on too,” he added.
Your eyes snapped to his in shock.
“I do?”
“Of course! You’re my imprint. Everything you do turns me on,” he admits, now blushing slightly himself.
“I never knew,” you add.
“Well, duh. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable since you want to stay friends.”
Wow, Embry really was a good guy. He repressed his own feelings for the sake of yours. Maybe it was time to revisit the whole just friends thing.
“So what does this mean?” you start.
“Nothing, we can just keep being normal. We can just stay friends, like you want.”
“But, what if I don’t want that anymore?” you suggest sheepishly.
He looks at you stunned, too afraid to press in case you retreat. You will need to take the lead here.
He is breathless as he replies, “Then you need to tell me what you do want.”
“I think– I want to try having sex. With you.”
Now it was his turn to be stunned.
“Seriously?”
You just nodded, waiting in anticipation for his next move. There was none. He was shocked into silence, so you did something you never thought you would be doing. You kissed a werewolf.
At first it was just a peck, but when Embry snapped out of his haze, he took a gentle lead. He grasped your chin between his fingers, guiding your lips back onto his. His skin was soft and smelled like cocoa. His other hand reached up to caress your waist, an act that sent tingles down to your toes. He pulled away.
“Are you sure? I need you to be 100% sure,” he whispered.
You spoke one word that gave him all the confidence he needed.
“Yes.”
With this, he leaned back in, mouth dancing over yours before poking his tongue out and licking a stripe across your bottom lip. You sighed in contentment. You’d kissed a couple of boys before, but none of them felt like this. This was gentle, this was loving– this was hot.
Embry felt you squirm closer, so he took the chance to lay you back on his bed, leaning over you to deepen the kiss. Your body writhed against his, but he didn’t rip your clothes off like you thought he would. Instead, he just kept kissing you. Anticipation grew in your stomach as you grew needier for more. In a strike of boldness, you reached a hand down to grasp him over his shorts. You missed, grazing the side of him and landing on his inner thigh, but he got the hint.
Pulling away, he asked “What’s the farthest you’ve gone before?”
You thought it may be best to lie, but chose honesty.
“This,” you spoke.
“Hey,” he started, sensing your nerves. “No need to be embarrassed, I just need to know where to go slow.”
“Maybe I don’t want to go slow,” you argued.
“It’s your first time, sweetheart,” he deadpans. You blush at his nickname. “I am going extremely slow.” He said this in a manner that told you you had no choice in the matter. He did know more about this stuff, maybe you should trust him.
“Where should we start?” you settle.
“Do you want to take your shirt off?”
Pushing away the nerves, you nod and sit up so he can peel your (his) hoodie off of your body. You lie back down, nipples hardening in the cold air. Embry’s eyes rake you, mesmerized. He brings a hand up every so lightly, finger circling your nipple to test your reaction. Seeing you arch your back into his touch, Embry brings his lips down to your neck, sucking and biting a trail down until his mouth had encircled your nipple. You sighed in relief, eyes closing at the sensation. You felt his hardness pressing into your leg, trying to shake the nerves of knowing that that would soon be inside you. The sucking and licking motion had drawn your thoughts out, leaving you with a mind blank of anything but Embry. He switched to the other nipple, ensuring you were more than satisfied with the feeling before bringing a hand over your clothed crotch. You froze, awaiting the new feeling, but Embry noticed.
“You okay?” he stopped, waiting for your confirmation.
“Yeah, just nervous,” you breathed.
“Say the word and I stop, no hard feelings. Okay?” You nodded, but he persisted, “Say it.”
“Okay.” As gentle as he was being with you, he had an air of control that had your stomach growing hotter by the second.
Bringing his hand back down, he caressed between your legs. It certainly felt better than what you had done yourself, but it was hard to make out much feeling with your denim jeans in the way.
“Can I take these off?” he breathed into your neck, turned on himself at the sight of your topless figure. You nodded, and he began to unbutton your jeans with one hand. When the zipper was pulled down, he sat up to peel them off you.
“Wait,” you interject, and Embry froze completely, afraid of overstepping. “Can you go first?” you spoke, gesturing to his own bottoms. Being the only one naked racked you with anxiety. Embry smiled knowing you still wanted to continue, and stood up from the bed, pulling shorts and underwear down his tanned legs and stepping out. You took in the sight. Obviously, you’d seen penises before, and read about them, but seeing one in real life was something else. He was clean, well-groomed, and long. You weren’t sure what to do, so you stood up to pull your own pants off. Once you had stepped out of your last garment, Embry strode towards you, lying you back down on the bed with a kiss to each cheek. You lie back expecting him to hover over you once more, only his mouth didn’t land on your chest. It started on your belly and travelled lower.. And lower… and lower. He spread your legs gently, hot breath fanning over your exposed center, before fluttering sweet kisses along your inner thighs.
The anticipation of his mouth had you going crazy. This was always the part in the stories that the girls liked the most. What if you didn’t like it? What if you smelled bad? What if you tasted bad?
Thoughts were silenced as he placed a gentle kiss on the hood of your clit. He looked like a starving man sitting before a feast, mouth all but drooling at the site of you laid out beneath him. Upon connecting with your eyes for one more confirmation, he dove in. His tongue was hot and wet, eliciting a slippery sensation as it grazed your clit. Your back arched into space as his mouth began a frenzy on you, licking, sucking, and kissing over and over until you were seeing stars.
“Oh, wow,” you got out, head tilted back and eyes shut.
He hummed in agreement, never ceasing his moves. Lick, suck, kiss. Lick, suck, kiss. You felt something in your stomach begin to clench, panic settling at the new feeling.
“I feel weird,” you admit.
Embry lifts his face, mouth glistening. “It’s okay, baby, that’s a good thing. Just focus on that feeling.”
You sat up on your elbows, brows furrowed, and Embry sensed your anxiety.
“That feeling in your belly means you’re close to finishing. You don’t have to if you’re scared, but it’s gonna feel so good,” he soothed. His warm eyes held yours in a stare that said you could trust him completely. You laid back and nodded for him to continue, determined to explore every feeling you could with him.
He started his actions slowly once more, building up speed but remaining consistent in his motions. You began to feel the clenching in your stomach again, chanting his name to keep your mind whole. His hands rubbed soothing circles over your stomach and thighs.
As your stomach began to feel more and more tense, your head began to swim with a dizzying storm. All at once, tingles erupted from your core across your entire body, stomach giving way to the rolls of your first orgasm. It lasted who knows how long, but when you regained control, you lifted your head, a signal for Embry to peel away as to not overstimulate you.
“How did that feel?” he questioned, a smirk of pride on his face.
“Holy…” you couldn’t finish, body limp with satisfaction. “That was crazy.”
“Do you want to stop there?” he asked, the tone in his voice indicating that he was more than happy with what you did, and would not be disappointed in the least if you were done for now.
“I want to keep going,” you stated, orgasm washing away any sense of embarrassment or shame.
Embry beamed at you, standing to pull a small foil packet out of his drawer.
“What about you?” you gestured to his stiff length. “I can–”
He cut you off. “Nuh uh, this is all about you. Don’t worry about me, I’m more than okay.”
With this you resigned. However, a new wave of anxiety began to wash over you at the thought of penetration. He would need to be slow. Very, very slow. Something told you he knew this, however, and you laid back, giving your body to him in complete trust.
Embry ripped the foil open with his teeth and slid out the slippery condom, placing it over his length and rolling down. You’d never actually seen a condom before, and were grateful that at least one of you knew how they worked.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked.
“I– I’m not sure,” you admit, waiting for him to give you some indication.
With this, he flipped you onto your stomach, legs slightly spread, and pulled your hips a couple inches into the air. You were basically laying down flat, your hips tilted up to allow him access.
“This is my favorite, but if it feels painful or uncomfortable at all, just tell me and we can try something else.”
You were blushing and extremely turned on at Embry throwing you around like this. Add one more thing to the list of what turned you on!
“I’m gonna go really slow, but you need to talk to me. If it feels good, tell me. If it hurts, tell me.”
“Okay,” you reassure him.
He kneeled behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. He rubbed his head amongst your folds, allowing you to get used to the sensation, before his tip caught in your center. Pushing slightly forward, you awaited the pain you knew would come. He got about an inch in before feeling you tense up, so he stopped to allow you to adjust. Embry ran his hands up and down your back, petting your hair to soothe you. When you were ready for more, you would push your hips up slightly, and Embry would take the hint, slowly pushing in another inch before stopping. When he was almost seated inside you, he paused.
“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”
“It feels weird, but it doesn’t hurt. I think I’m okay.”
You looked around the room and found that you could see Embry’s face in the mirror on his opposite wall. He looked to be in pure ecstasy, brows furrowed and mouth open. He must have been holding back a lot for your sake. The slickness of your previous orgasm combined with Embry’s face unclenched your muscles, allowing him to slide home.
“Fuck,” he grunted as you gasped. You had never felt full like this in your life. The stretch on your inner walls was crazy, and instead of the tingling sensation Embry’s mouth brought you, this was a deep pressure in your stomach. It felt insane.
Embry stayed put, allowing you as much time as you needed to fully adjust. You were more than ready, though, so you tilted your hips to signal him to move. He pulled out an inch or so, and then slowly pressed back in.
“Oh my god,” you breathed into the mattress, overcome by the feeling. He did this again, and again, and again, each time pulling out slightly further. He was fully fucking you.
He stayed slow, not wanting to overwhelm you, but you raised your knees in order to feel him deeper.
“Fuck, Y/N, baby,” he whispered, beginning to speed up. Your moans and the sound of your wetness sent him to the edge. The tightening in your stomach grew once more, Embry’s tip pressing the exact spot inside you to get you seeing stars.
“Embry, fuck,” you moan loudly, unabashedly, hips rocking back to meet his.
Just as you were starting to feel slightly raw and sensitive, he gripped your hips, stilling behind you, and you felt a warmth between your legs. He didn’t start moving again, so you figured he came. He pulled out and flopped on the bed next to you, searching your face for any hint of regret.
“Are you okay?” he asked, always taking care of your needs first.
“That was amazing, Embry,” you beamed, breathless. He pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead and running a hand through your hair.
“So…” Embry began after catching his breath. “Where am I gonna take you this weekend?” he thought out loud. You were confused.
“Take me?” you clarified.
“Sex rule number one:” he started, his voice laced with humor. “If I make you cum, I get to take you on a date. Didn’t you know?” he feigned ignorance.
“Well,” you joked back, “I guess rules are rules.”
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, dacryphilia, dom!steve, cursing, dirty talk, crying, probably more but that’s all i got
word count: 1.6k
from jen: i’m still not sure how i feel about my own smut writing but oh well, here you go! this is to hold you guys over while i write the music series. as always, with love <3
Steve Harrington would rather kill himself than make you cry.
Unless it was on his cock.
He’s got you bare and spread across his navy silk sheets. Your hair is a tangled mess around you, mouth hung open and eyes squeezed shut. Your tiny hands are clutching the sheets, twisting so hard the fabric is beginning to rip. He’d pulled his shirt off the minute he laid you on the bed, leaving himself in his jeans.
One of his palms is splayed open across your ribs. His other is between your legs, two fingers settled deep inside your cunt. He can feel your skin burning and the way your breathing hitches every time he hits that spot inside you.
“That’s it, baby, just feel it,” He coos, crooking his finger upwards. You mewl below him and your thighs threaten to tighten around his waist.
“It’s too much, I can’t – I can’t,” You whine and it sounds so pretty in his head. He’s pushing you towards your third orgasm of the night and he has no intention of stopping any time soon.
“Yeah you can,” He shushes, moving his fingers in and out. “C’mon, be a good girl f’me,”
Your legs shake at the pet name and he’s got right where he wants you. You’d do anything for him to keep praising you and he knows that’s true when you start nodding.
“Mhmmm, Steve!”
“Yeah? You gonna be good?” He smiles down at you and shifts, his thumb sliding up to circle your clit. Your moaning rises and he can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers.
“Yes! Yes! I’ll be good, I pr-promise,” He hears the way your voice cracks and the sound goes straight to his dick. He could tease you longer and part of him wants to but seeing the thin layer of sweat glisten on your skin, the way your thighs shake and the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his fingers, he can’t help but give in.
“I know baby,” He leans down, his mouth hovering yours but not yet kissing you. “Go ahead, lemme feel it,”
When he pushes his thumb harder against your clit and quickens his pace, you’re thrown over the edge. Your back arches into him, arms thrown up and around his neck as a way to ground yourself to him.
He murmurs praise into your ears as he slows his fingers, but keeps the rhythm to help you ride out your high. He tells you how good you did for him, how pretty you look under him, how much he loves you.
He pulls his fingers from inside you, and makes sure to keep eye contact with you when he raises them to his mouth, tongue swirling his own fingers to taste you.
Your mouth is agape while you stare at him, pupils blown wide and he can tell you’re wishing it was you ducking his fingers.
“So sweet,” Steve says, his tone carrying his usual confidence. Your stomach twists, and when you begin to whine under him, fingers clawing at his belt buckle, he chuckles softly before giving in.
He gently pushes your weak hands away and replaces them with his own. While he moves to unbuckle his belt, your hands grip his jaw and bring him down to your mouth. You latch onto him, creating your own rhythm and the taste of yourself on his tongue has you kissing him harder.
Normally, Steve liked to take his time with you but after watching you cum for him three times, he feels like he’s ready to bust the minute he touches you.
He pulls his might away from yours and watches the way your chase him. “Y’gonna take it, baby?”
You know what he’s really asking – if you can handle him again, if you can handle it rough.
Your head nods frantically. “I can take it. Please, I wanna take it,”
He groans at your words and shoves his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, just enough to free himself. He leans back on his heels, hands sprawled across each of your thighs and nudges them apart.
He looks down at your cunt, your wetness glistening against your skin and he watches the way you clench around air in anticipation.
“Fuck,” He mutters. He grips his dick in his hand, sliding it between your folds, gathering your slick.
“Steve,” You whine, finger nails clawing at his biceps. “Don’t tease me,”
When he looks back up at you, he sees the way you’re biting your bottom lip and staring down at the way he glides his dick against you. You look like a fucking angel.
Without another word, Steve moves his hips forward and pushes into you. You both moan at the same time and he can’t stop himself from collapsing over you, one arm bracing himself up next to your head and the other clamped tightly around your hip.
Your back arches into him while you moan and he can feel the way you stretch to take him.
“Fuck you feel so good, baby, so tight,” He groans in your ear. Your arms circle around his back, nails digging into his skin. His hips keep moving forward and your own begin to push down, trying to meet his thrusts.
“Faster Steve, please,” You beg in his ear and he almost cums right there at the sound. He pushes himself up on his forearm and stares down at you.
“Yeah? You want more?”
You whine beneath him and he feels the way your pussy clenches around him. He doesn’t let you answer him properly before he pulls nearly all the way out and slams back inside you.
He watches the way you throw your head back and starts his brutal pace. His hips snaps into your own, and you feel him so deep, it’s almost like he’s in your stomach.
“Oh God, right there! Right there!”
It’s a miracle if you two don’t get a noise complaint.
Steve is groaning at the sight of you, the sound of you, the feeling of you and he thrusts harder, deeper into you.
“Fuck, that’s it baby,” One of his hands wrap around your throat, not tight but enough to make your stomach dip. He notices the way you lean into his grip and he chuckles quietly. “Look at you. You’re so good, taking me so well,”
His tone is almost condescending – it’s that faux sympathy that drives you crazy and he can feel it happening now when you start to whine.
You can feel every inch of him inside of you, and it worsens when he lifts your thighs up, resting your legs on his shoulders.
You’re a whining and blubbering mess beneath him, fingers clawing at any of his exposed skin you can reach. He grins down at the state you’re in and slams into you harder.
It’s overwhelming and somehow not enough at the same time. You can feel your fourth orgasm coming along but it feels different this time. It feels sharper, more intense, and you try to hold it in as long as possible but he can feel it.
You shake your head, palms trying to push at his chest but you both know you’d kill him it he actually stopped.
“Steve, I’m – I’m gonna c-,” You can’t even finish your sentence when your eyes begin to leak tears. They slide down your fast so fast, hot and heavy against your skin and you can feel the way he twitches inside you.
“Fuck baby, are you crying?”
You feel embarrassed at his tone, that condescending attitude again, but he doesn’t let you dwell in it long before he brings one hand up to your face.
“God, you’re so fucking pretty. Keep crying baby,” He practically whimpers, thumb brushing away the tears as they pass. You’re so close it almost hurts and he can feel it. He feels the way you start to spasm around him.
Steve ruts his hips into yours, his free hand coming down to circle your clit. He leans down again, pressing his mouth to yours in a messy kiss and finally, your orgasm washes over you. You feel your skin begin to burn under his touch and your thighs shake from where they rest over his shoulders.
You’re crying into his ear and Steve feels his own orgasm begin to hit him. He pulls away just enough to watch your face twist, cheeks covered in tear stains and it’s enough to throw him over the edge.
He gives your three more sloppy thrusts before he’s whining against your mouth, fingers tightening around the skin of your hips and spills into you.
You feel him twitch inside you a few more seconds while you catch your breath. When Steve rises again, you have a dazed look in your eye and your skin is flushed red. Your hairs a mess, lips swollen from the way he bit them and your cheeks are covered in tears.
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Steve murmurs, wiping away the few tears still spilling from you. You blush at the compliment, even though he just spent the last two hours fucking you into the mattress.
You smile back up at him. “If I had known you’d get off from me crying, I would’ve done it a long time ago,”
Steve feels his softened dick jump, and he has to force himself to calm down. “Don’t start,” He grumbles while you continue to laugh at him.
Safe to say he makes you cry three more times tonight.
pairing: Kurt Kunkle x Reader
summary: Your boyfriend Kurt has been ignoring you all day because he wants to be playing video games and streaming them live, but you're fed up and want some attention from him, not caring that he's streaming.
wc: 2.3k
warnings: +18 (MDNI), explicit nsfw, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex on livestream, virgin kurt, sub!kurt, dom!reader, crying on sex, a little bit of overstimulation, dirty talking, bruising, kurt being pathetic as fuck over his girlfriend, praise kink, dry humping, masturbation (f&m both), a little bit of blood, edging
author's note: hii wanted to post this before starting to write some petitions i have! if u have any request, u can write it anon in my profile!! tysm for all the support.
You met Kurt Kunkle on the worst possible day at the mall. It was a random Saturday afternoon, and you were killing time between classes, wearing a cute little sundress.
You had just bought a new iced latte and you were checking your phone when a guy in a jacket with green and black squares, quite horrible, walked close to you.
His soda exploded everywhere —all over your dress, your phone, your shoes– The cup hit the floor with a dramatic splash.
“Oh my god— fuck— I’m so sorry!” he dropped to his knees immediately, trying to wipe the sticky liquid off your legs with the sleeve of his hoodie, rambling a mile a minute. “I was trying to go live and didn’t see you and now I ruined your dress– and I’m probably gonna get sued.”
You couldn’t help it. You started laughing. Hard.
He looked at you from the ground with wide open and nervous eyes behind his messy brown hair, his cheeks already bright red.
He froze up like he couldn’t believe someone as pretty as you was laughing instead of yelling at him.
"Aren’t you... mad?" he asked while his voice cracked.
"No," you said, still laughing." "But you owe me a new drink, loser." That was it.
He bought you a new iced latte –and insisted on paying for the dry-cleaning of your dress, even though you told him it was fine–. All along he called himself a "total disaster" and "the worst living human being".
He was so genuinely pathetic and sweet that you gave him your number when he shyly asked if he could "maybe text you later to make sure your dress survived."
Now you were here. Six months later and you were still way too hot for him He still acts like he won the lottery every time you kiss him.
You’ve been trying to get attention from Kurt for the last four hours and he has been ignoring you completely.
It started right after you woke up. You were already horny, that low and painful heat between your legs that only got worse the more he pretended you didn’t exist.
You jumped into his lap while he was still in bed, half-asleep, kissing along his jaw and whispering to him. And tonight he’s been ignoring you for four straight hours.
"Good morning, darling.'' Kurt took a sigh, his eyes still stuck to his phone –where he was editing the clips of yesterday’s broadcast– and he only patted your thigh like you were a puppy craving attention.
"Five more minutes, baby. These highlights are going to be viral, I need to post them soon."
Five minutes became two hours.
At lunch you brought him a fresh soda and played with his hair, sitting in the arm of his gaming chair.
“Kurt… can we talk? You’ve barely looked at me today.” He didn’t even pause the game.
“Yeah, in a sec. Wait till you see this quad kill, chat’s gonna lose their minds.” and you waited, but he never looked up.
By 3 p.m you were desperate. You changed your clothes to the tiniest black sleeping pants you had and a white t-shirt that was his. You stood right in front of his monitor, blocking the view on purpose.
"Honey, please. I’m here and you’re acting like I don’t exist." Kurt just came up to you, still touching the controller." Baby, move it, I’m in the standings. I’ll pay attention after the broadcast, I swear."
That after never arrived. It was almost 8 p.m.
He was live for almost an hour. The red LIVE" dot burnt on his second monitor as if he’s making fun of you.
Kurt leant forward in his chair, shoulders tense under that old gray sweatshirt, shouting into his microphone with that aggressive gamer voice that somehow made your pussy throb even harder.
“Bro what the actual fuck?! That was so easy! I’m gonna fuck you up so hard — so fucking hard — you have no idea what’s coming for you!”
The second those words left his mouth, your clit pulsed.
Hearing your sweet, and pathetic boyfriend growling “I’m gonna fuck you up so hard” — even if it was just trash-talking pixels — sent a fresh gush of wetness into your shorts.
You were dripping for hours and the neglect only made it worse.
You’ve had enough. You got up behind his chair and slowly slid your hands down his chest from behind, pressing yourself against the back of his head.
Kurt was surprised but didn’t stop playing.
"B-babe... I’m live right now..."
"I know exactly what you’re doing," you muttered, your lips rubbing his ear so that the microphone picks up every word. "You’ve been ignoring me for four hours straight. I’ve been wet and aching for you all day and you don't even look at me."
He swallowed hard. His character died instantly because his fingers froze.
‘’You have a girlfriend who wants to spend time with you, and you don't pay any attention to me.’’
orangemachine: oh no she’s madddd
dobutsnap: yeah shes taking what she wants lol
chicagostuffeds: yeah we can tell hes a loser
You spinned his chair forcefully making him look at you. Kurt's eyes widened, that familiar expression of a panicked puppy took over his face while his cheeks flushed a bright pink.
You didn’t ask. You climbed directly onto his lap, straddling his hips, with your knees on either side of the chair.
The moment your wet crotch pressed against the growing bulge in his gray sweatpants, you started rubbing against him, with slow, deliberate, dirty movements of your hips.
You grind down hard so the damp fabric of your tiny sleep shorts drags right over the thick ridge of his cock.
Kurt’s breath hitches loud enough for the whole stream to hear, and you rubbed hard against the damp fabric of your tiny shorts, brushing against him. Kurt's breathing was loud enough for the whole chat to hear.
You could feel every detail; how quickly he hardened beneath you, how he contracted, and how he moved with every thrust of your hips.
You maintained a steady, provocative rhythm, sliding down his entire body before pressing down. Each time you did, Kurt's hips arched involuntarily, seeking the friction like a desperate puppy.
The wet stain on your shorts darkened, mixing with the pre-cum that was already soaking his sweatpants.
"Do you feel that?" you whispered, your voice was low and sweet, but loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. "I've been this wet all day because of you. My shorts are fucking ruined and you haven't even touched me."
Kurt's hands wrap uselessly around your waist, trembling.
"I'm sorry—fuck... I'm so sorry. Oh shit—you're so hot. I can feel how wet you are through my pants... I'm an idiot and I don't deserve this."
You moved your hips faster, making sure it kept rubbing right where you needed it.
The friction was perfect: not enough to make either of you come, but enough to drive you wild.
He was hard as a rock, trapped under the fabric, dripping so much that every touch made a wet, almost obscene sound. You could feel its exact shape.
Kurt's head fell back against the chair, his mouth open, letting out small moans with every thrust of your hips.
"God... it feels so good... you're rubbing against me like this and I'm going to cum. I'm so pathetic, oh God– I have a hot girlfriend and I ignored her all day. I'm sorry—I'm so sorry..."
sambigs10: im enjoying this more than that ass gameplay
amster2004: hes gonna cum in his pant im calling it
DogManPlus: shes so hot… and hes there too ig
You continued rubbing against him for a while, enjoying how he throbbed beneath you, how his hands finally gripped your hips as if afraid you'd stop.
Then, you slipped a hand between your bodies, pushed it under the waistband of his sweatpants, and wrapped your fingers around him. It was hot, slick with precum, throbbing wildly in your palm.
You began to stroke it slowly while continuing to rub yourself against him. Kurt let out a muffled sob.
"S-shit– your hand... It's so soft. I can't concentrate on the game– baby, please..."
“Keep playing, good boy,” you whispered, twisting your wrist with each upward stroke, your thumb tracing the dripping slit. “Don’t stop streaming. Let them hear how pathetic you sound when I finally touch you after you’ve ignored me all day.”
SH_king1: HANDJOB ON STREAMMMM????
kinkysmsixnine: she called him good boyyy damn
He tried –God, he tried— but his character just went around in circles as you masturbated him under the desk. The wet rhythmic sound of your hand and his high-pitched and plaintive moans filled the room.
After another minute, Kurt couldn't take it anymore.
He paused the game with a trembling hand, but didn't end the stream.
"I can't– I need you..." tears were already gathering up in his eyes. "Please... can I touch you too? I want to make you feel better after being such a shitty boyfriend."
You nodded. “Go ahead, baby. Touch me. Show chat how wet your girlfriend is because you ignored her all day.”
His trembling fingers slid under your shorts and found your wet folds.
He inserted two fingers inside you awkwardly but eagerly, curling them the way you'd taught him last week.
The wet sounds were loud and dirty though the camera couldn't see exactly what was happening under the desk.
“Mmm, that’s it. Good boy– just like that. Fuck, your fingers feel so nice… keep going.” you gasped and rolled your hips into his hand.
Kurt looked at you, his eyes glassy and wet, his voice cracking.
"You're so wet, oh shit. Why did I ignore you? I'm the worst boyfriend– You feel so perfect between my fingers. I love you… I love you so much."
You continued touching him slowly as he still had his fingers inside you, both of you moaning into the microphone, completely losing control.
Meanwhile, the chat continued talking. Views increased, and donations were more intense than ever.
conFIRMshark: they’re both moaning this is insane
SwerlSpider: someone clip this
dizzysnack: i want to see her bro go away
Finally, you couldn't wait any longer. You lifted yourself just enough to pull down your shorts and underwear, letting them fall to your ankles.
Then you sat back down on his lap, positioning him against your entrance and sliding down in a slow, gentle motion.
Kurt threw his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks the instant he felt your intense heat envelop him completely.
"Oh my God—oh, God. I'm inside you... I'm really, really inside you," he repeated pathetically, talking too much, but you didn't care. "You're so tight, warm, and wet. Fuck... I can't believe this is happening—you're letting a loser like me be inside you. I don't deserve this… you're too beautiful and too perfect."
You groaned loudly as you reached the bottom, squeezing him tight.
"Damn, you feel so good inside me— so deep. Good boy, filling me so perfectly on your first time."
You started riding him slowly, savoring every thick inch that brushed against your walls. Kurt was completely lost in it: crying, babbling, praising you endlessly.
“You feel so fucking perfect– I’ve never felt anything like this… You’re so tight. Oh God.’’
“Mmm, yes, baby,” you moaned, moving a little faster. “You’re doing so well for me…”
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips and ass so tightly you knew you were going to have bruises tomorrow — little fingertip-shaped marks all over your skin.
You moaned louder, riding him faster. Kurt was losing control. His eyes were glassy with tears streaming, and suddenly he surged up, crashing his mouth against yours in a messy desperate kiss.
He bit down on your bottom lip hard enough that you tasted blood, a sharp metallic tang mixing with the kiss.
You whimpered into his mouth, the sting only making you wetter, making you bounce on his cock even harder.
“I’m sorry– I’m so sorry.’’
He tried so hard not to come too quickly. His hands gripped your hips tightly, but he didn't push up, simply letting you set the pace, tears still streaming down his face.
"I don't want to cum yet—please. It feels too good. You're so beautiful riding me like this..."
You leant down and kissed his neck, moaning right against his ear.
“Hold it for me– you’re doing so well… fuck, Kurt.”
“Please… can I cum inside? Please…” you clung to him deliberately and moaned loudly.
“Cum for me. Fuck, I’m going to cum too…”
Kurt desperately tried to hold back one last time, his face contorted, wanting to prolong the sex.
“I’m trying so hard not to cum yet— it feels too fucking good.” but he can’t. His thrusts become desperate, his voice cracking into full sobs as you kept moaning and riding him.
“I’m cumming– take all of it.” you cum right with him, moaning loudly.
“Yes, good boy. Ahh fuck– Kurt.” your walls fluttered while he sobbed praises into your neck, still weakly thrusting through the overstimulation.
Kurt didn’t pull out. He just wrapped his trembling arms around you, face buried between your tits while you stroked his hair and whispered.
The stream was sitting at almost 28k viewers. Besides, he earned over $6,000 in donations that you two didn’t even read.
You stared at the camera, flushed and beaming, your voice husky from moans.
"Stream's over, chat. My boyfriend just had his first time."
Kurt smiled just before you clicked to end the transmission.
"And if you guys follow me, I'll convince her to start posting this type of content."
mr. sandman - kinktober day one - somno + JJ
18+ mdni - cw !!! somnophilia
a/n: a few days late but that's okay...
It’s not like you and JJ had never talked about it before, in fact, you had woken up at least a dozen times to JJ ‘helping himself’ to eating your pussy for breakfast. So why did you feel so guilty about the dirty thoughts sneaking their way into your brain as JJ’s morning wood poked at your ass?
You bit your lip as you debated back and forth whether or not to put his morning wood to use. There was no harm in just grinding against him a bit, right? JJ was a deep sleeper, everyone who knew him could testify to his ability to sleep through a hurricane. You tested it out first, moving slowly to rub your ass against his hard dick, arching your back a bit to get the right angle, when the unexpected happened: JJ let out an angelic moan. You froze, wondering if he woke up and could just fuck you already, but then he was silent; conscious JJ was never silent.
You needed him, bad. You could feel his dick throbbing against you, and it was making your resolve break more and more. JJ would probably want you to take care of his situation, right?. You reached behind your body to wrap your hand around his hard dick, his tip already leaking precum. JJ slept naked, and you were kinda grateful for that right now. You carefully guided him between your thighs, slowly resuming your movements from before. Another soft whine left JJ’s lips and you were desperate to hear more, desperate to feel more. You put your hand between your legs to keep him steady as you slid yourself back and forth, letting him slide through your folds and coating his dick in your juices. You wanted nothing more than to put his dick inside you, but instead you settled for the feeling you were getting from his tip nudging your clit.
You felt JJ’s hips start to move slightly, like he was lazily humping a pillow, and the thought of using JJ like he was using you was sending you closer and closer to your orgasm. Small huffs and whines left your lips, your body starting to get tired but chasing that feeling you didn’t want to lose, clamping your thighs as tightly as you could.
Suddenly, you felt another hand reach between you and JJ, and before you could process what was happening, your prayers were answered and his dick was sliding inside of you, sending your head back as you let out a satisfied moan. “Why didn’t you put it in? Know you wanted to…” JJ mumbled into the skin of your shoulder, his hand coming up to hold your hips, aiding in his thrusting. His voice low, still full of sleep, as he spoke directly next to your ear.
“Seemed..mm.. rude…J,” you answered honestly.
“Yeah? Next time I wanna wake up to you riding me, ‘kay? Now let daddy take care of his needy girl.”
It was like JJ had answered your prayers in more way than one, not only had he woken up at the perfect moment to give you what you needed, but he also gave you permission- scratch that - he instructed you to use him while he slept.
So, a couple week later when you woke up in a similar predicament, horny with JJ’s morning wood poking you in the ass, this time, you didn’t feel guilty as you slid your panties down your legs just before straddling his lap.
JJ looked so beautiful like this, his soft skin, a little red and darker than usual from the summer sun, his face relaxed, not worried about whatever troubles find him when he’s awake.
You stayed still for a moment, to see if your weight on him was enough to wake him up; it wasn’t. You lifted your hips to line him up before you slowly sank down on his length, your hands resting on his chest for stability. His face twitched, eyebrows furrowing together from the sensation of your walls clenching around him. When you were to the hilt, full with him, you started to move, slowly at first but then picking up your pace. JJ’s dick was just too good for his own good, and the soft whimpers that left his lips was the hottest thing you ever heard.
Just as you started to feel the tension building in your stomach, JJ began to stir, his eyes squeezing shut before slowly starting to open. But you didn’t stop, you didn’t even slow. A smile slowly appeared on his lips. “G’morning to you too,” his voice sleepy and mumbly.
“Needed it, J…” you said softly, your best attempt at an explanation.
“Take what you need, mamas,” JJ said softly before a moan escaped him from the feeling of you clenching around him. His hands clumsily came up to paw at your breasts, kneading the flesh between his fingers before pinching your nipples. Your head fell back as your orgasm washed over you, JJ taking your head falling back as a sign that it was his turn, he quickly flipped you so he was on top and wasted no time before pounding into you, now chasing his own release.
“My girl needed my dick so bad, just couldn’t wait, hmm?” JJ teased, his forehead resting against yours as both of you were panting. You wrapped your legs around him, unable to reply, instead of words you mustered up a needy whine in response, which made JJ chuckle at the sight of his needy girl, more than happy to give her what she needs.
