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f1fantasys · 3 months ago

Note

Hi Love! Im thinking of reader x Lando, reader needs reminding that Lando has only eyes for her and not Magui like the media and Magui have said? Reader acts bratty about it but Lando can see that it's just hidden insecurity and needing reassuring. Maybe possibly alittle spit play? And possibly Lando saying something like 'I've only ever done you raw, noone else knows how it feels to have me dripping down their thighs' or something like that? Rough as too and squirting too?

Thankyou so much 💓

What about her?

Warnings - filthy smut, minors DNI, fingering, oral sex, spit play, rough sex, unprotected sex, cum play, swearing, use of the word slut

A/N - hope you enjoyed this anon!

You had been hooking up with Lando for close to a year now. It wasn’t planned, but rather a drunken night leading to more nights spent together during race weekends, and before you both knew it, it was the new norm.

Nothing was ever labeled, it wasn’t exclusive. You were both young and had agreed to see others, as long as you were both clean.

Recently though, it was becoming harder and harder to see how Lando’s friendship(?) with Magui seemed to resurface. They were seen out more and more, especially back home in Monaco every other other weekend, and although you had no right to, hell, you didn’t even plan to, the feeling of jealousy was slowly creeping in.

You’d never once felt jealous about seeing lando hooking up with others during the course of the year, but something with the way he was when pictured with Magui hit slightly different. He had that effortless smile, corners of his lips tugging upwards as his body language seemed so easy, so comfortable, standing closer to her than you’d have liked him to. Often, your mind spiraled as to what they did behind closed doors. Did he kiss her like his life depended on it, like he did with you? Do that thing with his tongue around her nipples and on her clit? Were his calloused fingers thick through her hole? Did fuck her like he fucked you? Hard and rough? Or better? Or was he slow and gentle with her? Did he make her cum multiple times through the night? That was something you definitely got the night before a race. And then did he finish inside her, or on her tits?

You had it bad, in case you hadn’t noticed.

You hadn’t seen Lando for 3 weeks now, your job permitting you to work from the MTC rather than being present at the triple headers, and everyday you willed yourself not to over think things, not to make this a bigger thing than what it was. You tried to be your usual self in front of him, but without really realizing it, you were in fact distancing yourself. Your texts were less frequent, and your calls, often FaceTiming to get each other off, were quick, not the usual catch ups you both were used to.

Lando had told you to come spend the weekend with him in Monaco before the next double header started. And being desperate to see him, you’d agreed before giving yourself a chance to over think things.

You found yourself in his apartment, waiting for him to come home as once again he gossip pages on instagram were having a blast, dissecting every picture ever of Lando and Magui, pin pointing every detail as to why they were sure to be in a relationship.

Too lost in your thoughts, you jumped in your seat on the couch when the door opened. Lando walked in, looking exhausted, but beautiful as ever. His face lit up when he spotted you, the biggest smile gracing his face and he let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

You too, butterflies waking up in your tummy at the sight of him, let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

‘Fucking finally’ he said softly, walking up to you and wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you tightly, taking in a deep breath as his face hid in your hair. You did the same, hugging him back equally as tight as you stood on your tippy toes, your fingers playing with the curls on his head.

‘Well done on both wins Lan, you deserve them’ you said, knowing he was beating himself up over the fact that he wasn’t even in the points for the third race, McLaren fucking up his strategy once again.

He pulled back, eyes shades darker making your chest heave with anticipation, too many thoughts taking over your mind in a matter of 10 seconds - Lando, how hard he was on himself, his relationship with you, Magui, everything came rushing up as you feared you’d said the wrong thing.

‘Don’t wanna talk about the race. Just want you. Please’ he said, eyes softening but still holding a bucket of lust in them.

You could feel a part of you self withdrawn compared to how you were when he first walked through the door. All of a sudden the pictures of him and Magui were at the forefront. But another part of you was relieved, he still wanted you, your body. You craved him as much as he craved you.

‘You have me’ you whispered, not sure what the hell you meant by that but before you could contemplate any further, Lando crashed his lips to yours, kissing you with such force that all the air was knocked out of your body, his tongue quickly sliding into your mouth as his hold on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer to his body.

You whimpered at the feeling of his hard on, grinding yourself against him as you pulled back to take a breath, his hips moving down to your neck as you let out shallow gasps, clutching your body to his front.

Soon both your clothes were on the floor, Lando hoisting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. At the minute, the room seemed too far away, and so you hissed as he set your ass down on the cool kitchen counter top, stepping between your legs. He continued attacking your neck as your hands found his girth, giving him a few pumps before he sent you a warning. ‘Nights’ gonna fucking end early you carry on, love.’ He said, pulling your hands away and placing them on your boobs, then pushing your upper body down to lay on the counter.

You followed his steps, massages your breasts as desperation took over your body as he finally spread your legs wider apart, leaning his weight onto one of them, while the thumb of his left other hand left a hot trail from your thigh all the way to your dripping cunt. You looked down at him, seeing the way his tongue wet his lips, eyes focused on the task at hand as he let this finger linger where you needed him the most.

‘Look at you, dripping for me like this’ he murmured.

Your back arched as he slid his thumb through your slick folds, breath hitching when he leaned forward to let a hot strip of spit drop down his mouth down to your core.

‘Fuck Lan, please’ you begged, body getting jittery with impatience.

‘Gonna take my time with you, got you to myself for a whole 48 hours babygirl’ he said softly, still concentrating on his actions as your body writhed under his hold.

He spat another lot of spit on you, making you jump at the contact before he finally, finally found your clit, giving it just the right pint of pressure, eventually sinking his middle finger through your hole.

You gasped, a guttural moan leaving your body as he set a quick pace, adding in a second finger as your hands found his hair, pulling at it harshly. He was nudging your G-spot repeatedly, not going easy on you one bit.

‘Fuck me. Yes Lan’ you praised his name, shutting your eyes as you knew it would take him long to make you cum.

It was when you felt his tongue on you though that had you trembling in his arms. Your fingers still clutching his hair tightly as you came all over his face and hands, lewd moans filling the room.

Lando pulled back, his own chest heaving and he licked his lips and fingers clean of your juices. You watched on as he took his dick in his hands, spitting down on himself this time, spreading it all over before he pulled you back to the edge of the counter, one hand holding your one thigh open, while the other lined himself up at your entrance.

You sat up, bracing your hands on his shoulders, but not before giving him a sloppy kiss, tongues battling each other as he slid into your cunt with a single thrust.

Breaking the kiss for air, he hid his face in your neck, his breath hot, sending shivers down your sweat clad body as he started to move, pulling out almost completely before ramming into you again and again, obscene moans leaving both your mouths.

Your nails scratched a path down his back, making Lando hiss at the feeling as he sped up his pace, your foreheads now resting against each others’, breaths mingling.

‘Fuck I missed this tight little cunt of yours, takes me so fucking well’ he moaned, fingers pinching at your nipples as you wrapped your legs around his middle, making hit you deeper.

As high as you felt, those pictures were still lingering at the back of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to push them away, and without really realizing it, your whole mood changed, body stiffening and Lando was quick to notice the change.

He slowed his movements, still continuing to thrust into you but gentler this time. He cupped your face, worried he might have been hurting you. You, on the other hand, weren’t even phased by his slowing down.

‘Babe?’ He questioned. But your focus was clearly somewhere else.

‘Y/n’ he said, pulling out of you completely, seriously losing his shit because what did he do so wrong? He wondered. It wasn’t until he slid out completely that you came back to reality, eyes widening.

‘Huh?’ You asked, completely oblivious, and looking down to see Lando’s softening dick as he cupped himself, both your faces flushed.

‘You zoned out. Did I hurt you?’ He asked.

‘I-no. I’m sorry I-we can go again’ you said, already trying to take him into your hands and line him up, but he ever so subtly stopped you.

‘We’re not going again y/n, what’s up?’ He asked, knowing there was something bugging you.

Your cheeks heated up at his question, you really didn’t feel like having this conversation right now., watching as he walked over to the pile of clothes to slide his boxers on.

‘No nothings wrong. Just tired. Busy’ you said softly, suddenly feeling too exposed.

‘You know I can always tell when you’re lying right? I’m right here. Talk to me. One second you’re letting me fuck you then the next your mind is a million miles away.’ He said, helping you into your own clothes.

‘I’m ok. Promise’ you said, giving his lips a quick peck and jumping off the counter.

You were glad he didn’t push you, just needing some more time to think things through and make sure you weren’t over reacting to the whole situation.

The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on the couch, a slight tension in the air but your bodies glued together like they belonged there.

Going to bed was awkward as fuck. Normally before sleeping, it would another round, or lando eating you out, with you blowing him as well. Not tonight though. A few words spoken, and lando spooned you from behind, giving you a few kisses on your neck.

…

At some point in the night, you stirred, eyes shooting open as confusion took over your body. You took a few seconds to gather your whereabouts, while Lando’s arm around your waist tightened.

You shifted, wanting to turn around to face him, when you felt it. His hard on pressing against your back, throbbing.

While your mind was still fuzzy with lots of emotions, your cunt had other ideas. Sliding down your panties as best you could, you pushed one leg forward, lining lando up perfectly, before sinking backwards, letting him slide through your pussy with ease.

You moaned, louder than you’d intended to, when Lando’s hands instinctively took a hold of your waist, holding you ever so tightly as he thrust himself back before plummeting forward again, slamming himself into you. He leaned forward, leaving open mouthed kisses along your back and neck, letting out his own grunts which you were sure you cum just from listening too.

‘Fuck Lan, please don’t stop’ you pleased, knowing you both needed the release you failed to follow through with earlier.

Before you knew it you were flat on your back, Lando hovering above you as the moonlight shone on his face beautifully. His eyes were dark, full of lust.

He carried on with his pace, hard, raw, when he spoke, voice soft compared to the dirty he was doing to you.

‘Wanna tell me what’s got your thinking so hard?’ He asked, leaning down he peck your forehead.

You hesitated, but something in the way he was handling you right now, something about him told you it was okay to say it.

‘I-‘ 68) started, then turned your head to look away.

Lando was quick to bring his hand up to your face, turning it back towards him.

‘Don’t shut me out, tell me’ he said softly, still thrusting in and out of you but at a brutally slow pace now as your walls clenched painfully around him.

You looked him in the eyes, a single word spilling out before you could stop it.

‘Magui’ you whispered.

He stopped his movements completely, but didn’t pull out.

‘I’m fucking you and you’re thinking of her?’

‘Do-do you like her..like that?’

‘Fuck me. Like her? I spend all of one afternoon with her, now and then, couldn’t give a flying fuck about feeling anything towards her’ he said, face contorted in shock, disgust even.

You don’t know where you found the confidence from, but you weee glad you did.

‘I see the pictures. You look..happy together, a- and what about the other gir -‘ you started but he cut you off. ‘Happy? Yeah she’s an acquaintance, but whatever. I’m fucking happy when I with YOU’ he said very matter of fact, quickly catching on to what you were trying to say.

You started quiet, trying to shift to create some friction because you weee going to fucking explode.

‘Y/n, baby look at me’ he said sternly.

You did as you were told.

‘Her, them, mean fuck all to me. Baby you’re the only one I do raw. Do you think I let them feel me like this’ he started moving again, slowly still, ‘fuck them like I do you? Do you think I cum deep inside them and then let it drip down their thighs like I do yours?’ He asked, pace quickening with every word he said.

‘Oh and get this. I’ve not once fucked her. The others were a means of distraction because I couldn’t have you. Used to close my eyes and imagine it was your cunt i was fucking’ he said, making your breath hitch as the butterflies when ballistic in your stomach.

Fuck this man and his way to make you feel this way, you thought.

When you kept quiet, albeit a few moans as he was now pinching your clit, he leaned down, whispered into your ear. ‘It’s you baby, always has been. Just say the fucking word and it’s only me and you’ he said, nibbling on your ear.

His words alone through you off, your climax hitting you hard as you shook underneath him, lewd moans leaving your lips as you gushed your cum all over his dick, warm sheets of it already messing your thighs and his.

‘Ah, fuck me y/n’ he murmured, somehow picking up his speed, chasing his one high now.

Somehow, in your fucked out state, you managed to say what you’d been eager too since he’d told you he’d never fucked Magui. ‘I want you Lan, all of you’ you whispered.

He pulled back, eyes staring into yours with a darkness you don’t think you’d seen before.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you said, a single tear running down your cheek.

Lando was quick to kiss the tear away, you heard him mumble a ‘thank fuck,’ more to himself. Then, he was a man possessed.

‘Gonna let me cum in you, as always, yeah?’

You have no idea what you do to me baby, I’m gonna fucking ruin you tonight.

‘Gonna fuck you like you’re only my slut now, yeah? No one else’s?’

‘God, Lan, give me your cum. Please’ you pleaded, already feeling another orgasm approaching.

‘Gonna let me fill you up? One day make a fucking baby together?’ He asked, voice rougher than ever.

That one thought - the one that had you thinking about him fucking a baby into you - that was enough to send you crashing again, violently so as you spewled your warm cum all over, creating a right mess with your trembled body and obscene grunts, clutching on to Lando’s shoulders as tight as you could.

He didn’t slow his pace on bit. His voice was shaky as he spoke. ‘Made you mine and made you squirt with minutes. Only my fucking love can do that’ he said, with each thrust getting sloppier and sloppier.

And then he let go. Ropes of hot, sticky cum shooting out his dick while he pushed it deep inside you, filling you up to the brink, his words borderline pornographic with pure filth leaving his mouth as his hips bucked into yours.

Eventually he slowed his movements, and normally he’d stay inside you for a few moments while his dick softened, but this time, breath heavy, he pulled out quickly, groaning, strong arms placing your legs high on his shoulders as he lifted your body up, you cunt coming up to level with his face.

‘Lan’ you questioned, not knowing where this was going but breath hitching when he spat spit directly onto you core, licking his lips when he saw your glistening pussy, messed with a mix of your cum, his cum, and his spit.

He used his fingers to already the sticky mixture, making a right mess of you before he man handled you to stand, going down on his knees as he spread your legs.

‘Baby look,’ he said.

‘Your dripping with my cum’

You looked down to see, already trying to squeeze your thighs shut at the sight.

‘No one’s felt you like this?’ You asked teasingly.

Lando stood up, vaporing your face with more force than necessary but not enough to hurt you.

‘No one. Only you my love’ he said, before kissing you filthy.

…

THIS PIC? HELLO?

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 #lando norris #f1 fic #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando smut

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purplecoffee13 · 6 months ago

Text

Cross The Line*

Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”

Wc: 13k

Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N

Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗

A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘

General Masterlist

HEADER = POV change

Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.

At least, he’s always thought it is.

Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.

Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.

When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.

Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.

Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.

He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.

And she had been absolutely right.

Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.

They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.

No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.

Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.

The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...

He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.

"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.

"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.

"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.

"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.

"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.

Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."

The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.

"When?"

Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”

"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"

"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.

Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.

He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.

Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.

The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.

By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.

He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.

Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.

He just doesn't know how to behave instead.

"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.

"What?"

"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“

"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.

Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.

"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.

"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."

At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.

"So... we're good?"

"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.

"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.

"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.

That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.

The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.

Harry loudly shuts the door.

The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.

"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.

"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.

"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.

"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.

Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.

"A Thousand Zombies

By Jason Longwell."

Right, Jason, that was his name.

"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.

"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.

"W— what?" He stumbles.

"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.

"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.

"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.

"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.

"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."

"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.

"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?

Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"

"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.

"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"

"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.

"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.

So much for going back to normal.

Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something. But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.

Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.

It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.

He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.

"It's just a date—"

"Your second date!"

Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.

"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.

"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.

"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."

"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.

Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.

A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.

He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.

"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.

"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.

"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."

Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.

"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.

"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.

"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.

He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.

"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"

"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.

Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.

"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."

Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.

And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.

He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.

"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.

"You said we were good."

His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.

"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.

"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.

"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.

"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.

"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."

The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears

"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.

Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.

"What's going on?"

Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."

Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.

"Y/N—"

"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."

Wait, no.

That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?

Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.

His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.

At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.

Everything is going wrong.

Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.

First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.

It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.

But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.

Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.

But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.

'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.

It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.

Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.

And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.

If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault.

She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.

Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.

She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.

So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.

She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.

When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.

"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"

Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.

"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?

A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.

"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.

"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."

She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."

"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.

"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.

"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"

"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.

"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.

"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.

"Y/N..." he warns.

"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.

Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.

"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.

"I really have to go."

Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."

Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."

"Yes I do." Harry argues.

"You really don't."

"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.

"No!" She is quick to protest.

"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.

"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.

"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."

She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."

Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"

"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."

"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.

"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.

"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.

It's not your fault.

That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?

"You revise every contract, don't you?"

Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.

"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.

For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.

The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.

"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.

"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.

"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.

"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.

"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.

Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.

Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.

The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.

"I think I'm jealous."

Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.

"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.

"Of whoever gets to take care of you."

Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.

"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.

"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.

And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.

Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.

With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.

Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.

But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.

Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.

"We've arrived."

Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.

Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.

"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.

"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."

Harry nods.

"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.

"You have to... what?"

"To... I have to—"

"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.

Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.

"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."

His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.

It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.

"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.

"Nothing. Just admiring you."

At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.

Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.

Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.

It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.

Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.

She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?

Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.

"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.

"I only have white wine."

Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."

Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.

"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.

"To the unexpected."

They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.

"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."

There it is.

She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.

"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.

"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.

"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"I know, but I could have—"

Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.

"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."

Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."

Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.

"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.

"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."

Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."

"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."

He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.

His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.

"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.

"I called you sir."

Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."

Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"

His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.

Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.

"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.

"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.

"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.

"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.

"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.

"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."

Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.

Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.

Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.

Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.

Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.

Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.

"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.

She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."

Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."

"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.

"On your stomach."

Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.

"Hands behind your back."

Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.

Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.

"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.

Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.

But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.

"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.

"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.

Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.

Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.

"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."

Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.

"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.

He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.

Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more.

"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.

"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.

"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.

"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."

Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.

"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"

Oh my god.

"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.

"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.

His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.

She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.

Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.

"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.

"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.

"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.

Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.

The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.

The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.

When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.

"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.

"Promise?"

Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.

"Promise." You say with a smile.

General taglist: @mema10

#harry styles #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #harry #blurb #one direction #one shot #smut #excerpt #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harryedwardstyles #harry fanfic

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risuola · 8 months ago

Text

FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

“Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

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allthatjazz416 · 24 days ago

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Osamu NSFW 🌹

"Kiss the cook" A Miya Osamu TIMESKIP fic Tags: Fem!Reader! Creampie! Squirting! Spanking! A lil nipple play! Manhandling! Brief!Cockwarming! Implied!Breedingkink! Praisekink! Dom!Osamu! Sub!Reader! Established RS! Cockdrunk! Cunnulingus! MarriedCouple! LovingDominance! Word Count: 2.9k Note: MDNI! Porn with like a lil plot. Inspired by this header lol which divider crdts: @/cursed-carmine

The smell hits you first.

Garlic. Onion. A little soy sauce. It hits like a warm hug the second you step through the door, bags in hand and shoes half-off. You sigh, stretching your arms over your head, sore from work but already relaxing because he’s home. And he’s cooking.

You round the corner and find him there—in a loose gray shirt, apron tied around his hips, sleeves rolled up, stirring something in a skillet.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says without turning around, voice casual, warm. “You’re home early.”

“I missed you,” you hum.

He laughs softly under his breath. “Didn’t even text me.”

You walk up behind him and snake your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. He’s warm. Solid. Smelling like salt and dinner and Osamu.

“Wanted to surprise you,” you murmur, nosing at the back of his neck. “Smells amazing.”

“Y’better be talkin’ about the food,” he teases.

You smile. “You know I’m not.”

He goes still when you kiss just below his ear, and stay there. His knuckles tighten on the spoon. You know that look—that tiny shift in his stance. He’s trying not to react. So you push it.

Your fingers dip under the hem of his apron. His cock’s not hard yet, but he shifts when you press your palm over his waistband, groaning low in his chest.

“…Now, sweetheart,” he warns, gently, “you start that and I’ll burn the whole damn thing.”

“Then maybe you should turn the stove off.”

He snorts, but it’s breathless. He does turn it off. And the second he sets the spoon down, you spin him around, eyes already on his mouth.

Osamu tastes like soy and garlic and the tiniest hint of sake when you kiss him. He kisses like he cooks—slow and sure, knowing exactly what he’s doing. His hands find your waist. Then your hips. Then your ass.

“Been wantin’ you all day,” he mutters against your lips. “Got this picture in my head of you bent over the kitchen counter in nothin’ but a smile—”

“That so?” you whisper, tongue flicking the corner of his mouth. “Think you can make it happen?”

He doesn’t answer.

He grabs your thighs, lifts you like you weigh nothing, and sets you on the counter in one smooth motion. You blink—pulse quickening—not expecting him to actually drop to his knees. He never does this without teasing first. Without dragging it out. But this time—

He kneels. Right there on the kitchen floor.

“Samu—!” your hands reach for the edge of the counter, breath catching. “I’ve been out all day, I’m probably all sweaty down there—”

“Good,” he growls, spreading your thighs. “I wanna taste all of it.” eyes locked on your soaked cunt. “Fuck, look at you.”

You freeze, pulse hammering in your throat. Heat crawls up your chest. You weren’t expecting this—weren’t expecting him to want you like this, right now, raw and unfiltered. Part of you hesitates, skin flushed and prickling with the awareness of the day still clinging to you.

But the way he looks at you—hungry, reverent, fucking possessed—melts every ounce of self-consciousness. He wants you. Just like this.

Your breath catches again, this time for a different reason. You relax back into your elbows, thighs falling open.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Okay…”

He spreads your thighs, hooks them over his shoulders, and drags his tongue through your slit like he’s starving.

And god—he doesn’t stop.

Osamu eats pussy like it’s his job. Like you’re his last meal. He licks up your folds, slow and wet and filthy, then swirls his tongue around your clit until your thighs twitch. His hands keep you open, thumbs pressing into your hips just enough to bruise. You pant, moan, try to grind down—but he pins you there.

“Stay still,” he growls, voice low against your core. “Lemme take my time.”

His mouth seals around your clit and sucks. You yelp, clapping a hand over your mouth. He hums into you, sending vibrations straight through your cunt.

“Osamu—fuck, that—ah—”

“You’re already drippin’, sweetheart,” he groans. “This little pussy missed me?”

You nod helplessly, hips twitching. “Y-yeah… I missed your mouth…”

He groans into your cunt, like that does something to him. And then he gets meaner. Hungrier. His fingers come next—one thick finger pushing inside while his tongue works circles around your clit. Then another. Curling just right.

You feel it building—hot and tight in your belly, your thighs clenching, every muscle on edge. But just when you’re about to tip over—

He stops.

You whine, loudly. “Samu!”

He smirks up at you, fingers still buried deep, glistening mouth pressed to your thigh.

“You were close, huh?” he teases, curling his fingers just enough to make your body jump. “You gonna cum all over the counter for me?”

“Please,” you whimper. “Please don’t tease me—need it so bad—”

He grins, slow and filthy.

“Say it again.”

“Need your mouth,” you gasp, hands fisting in his hair. “Need to cum for you, Osamu—fuck, please—”

He goes in.

Tongue on your clit, fingers curling hard and fast—right there, over and over—and the pressure snaps.

Your back arches. You scream, thighs clamping around his head as you squirt hard, soaking his mouth, his chin, the front of his apron.

You’re gasping, shaking, crying out—helpless against the wave of overstimulation.

Osamu groans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever felt, grinding his face into you like he wants more.

“Fuckin’ love makin’ you squirt,” he pants. “You always make a mess for me, don’t you?”

You’re still shaking when he stands—licking his fingers like he’s tasting your orgasm, his cock hard as granite behind his sweats. His mouth and chin are slick—glistening with you.

Then he grabs your face.

Big, calloused fingers wrap under your jaw, thumb pressing just under your lips as he tilts your face up to his. His eyes are dark. Hungry.

“Open.”

You do.

He kisses you—filthy. Deep and slow, no warning. His tongue pushes past your lips and you taste yourself, still dripping from his mouth. He groans into the kiss, hand gripping your chin like he owns you.

“That's you,” he growls, pulling back just enough to pant against your mouth. “So fuckin’ sweet. I could live off this cunt.”

You whimper, clenching around nothing. He must feel the heat radiating off you because he grins, smug and slow and dangerous.

Then his hand slides down. Between your legs. He cups your pussy—still wet, still messy—and moans into your cheek.

“Still so fuckin’ wet,” he mutters, grinding his palm against your clit. “Y’gonna let me fuck you now, sweetheart? Let me fill you up?”

You nod. Fast. Breathless. “Yes. Please.”

“Not beggin’ pretty enough,” he growls, licking into your neck, one hand gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. “Want you to ask me. Like a good girl.”

You whimper, arching your back, rubbing against him. “Please fuck me, Samu. Wanna feel your cock. Wanna feel you inside.”

“Where, sweetheart?” he presses, cock hard against your thigh now, rubbing through the front of his sweats. “Tell me where you want it.”

“Inside,” you pant, eyes fluttering. “Need you to finish inside me.”

He lets out a sound—deep, dark, filthy. Then he hooks one arm around your waist and lifts you, making you yelp. Not rushed, not rough—just strong, decisive, possessive.

“Counter’s too small,” he mutters against your neck. “Need more room to fuck you proper.”

He carries you across the kitchen and lays you back on the table like you’re made of something precious and his. The wood is cool against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body as he looms over you, staring down at you like you’re his next course.

His eyes drop to your chest, still hidden under your shirt, and he growls low—like he’s just remembered what else he’s starving for.

“Lift your arms, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging your shirt up and off. “Wanna see all of you.”

He palms your breasts with both hands, rough but reverent, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they harden under his touch. You arch up with a soft gasp, and he groans—low and filthy, cock twitching against your thigh.

“Fuck, these tits,” he mutters, bending to mouth at one nipple, sucking slow and deep until it makes your toes curl. “I missed these, too. God, you make me crazy.”

He bites—just enough to make you yelp—then soothes it with a slow lick. His hands never leave your body, one still cupping your breast while the other slides down, trailing heat along your side.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that,” he mutters, tugging his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick and flushed and already leaking, “and I’m not gonna be able to take my time.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper, hips lifting, legs parting. “Samu, I need it.”

He groans, low and hungry, and steps in closer—running his cock through your folds, dragging it over your clit, tapping it against your soaked entrance just to hear the obscene slick of your arousal.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re drippin’—you this messy just from gettin’ eaten out?”

You whine, squirming. “M’still sensitive—”

“I know.” His smirk is slow. Dangerous. “That’s why I’m gonna make it worse.”

He strokes his cock once—twice—then presses the blunt head to your entrance.

But he doesn’t push in.

Not yet.

His hand slides up your chest, under your shirt, up your neck. Grips your chin.

“Kiss me.”

You do, panting into his mouth as he leans over you—his tongue slow, dragging, dirty. He kisses you like he owns every part of you.. Like you belong to him.

Then—only then—he starts to push in.

“Just a little,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let me feel that squeeze…”

You moan, loud and helpless, as he sinks in—slow, steady, inch by inch.

“Big,” you gasp. “You’re so—fuck—you’re so big…”

“That’s right,” he growls. “Wanna feel me stretch you out. Wanna ruin this pussy nice and slow.”

He stops halfway in. Just stops—and starts grinding.

Not thrusting. Just deep, tight circles of his hips, the thick weight of his cock rubbing right against the spot that makes your toes curl. Your hands fly up, clinging to his shoulders, his apron still bunched around his waist.

You whimper. “Samu—need all of you—please—”

“I know, baby,” he mutters, cock twitching inside you. “You’re takin’ me so well. Almost there…”

Another inch. Another grind. He watches your face—eats every gasp, every twitch of your lips, like he’s feasting on your need.

And then he bottoms out.

All of him. Buried to the hilt.

You both moan.

You swear you see stars for a second.

“God, I feel so full—”

“That’s ‘cause you are, baby,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours. “Look at me. Let me see your face when I fuck you.”

He pulls out just a little—then thrusts back in.

Deep.

Slow.

Like he wants to mold your insides to his shape.

He does it again. And again. Each thrust deeper than the last, each one building that low, aching heat between your legs. You wrap your arms around him, thighs trembling, biting back moans that only make him grin.

“You love this,” he growls. “Love bein’ fucked like this, huh?”

“Yes,” you whimper, tears pricking your eyes. “Love your cock—fuck—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t.

His thrusts stay deep, slow, and dirty. Every inch of him feels like it’s made to ruin you—hot and thick, dragging against your sweet spot with a precision that makes you clench down and moan his name like it’s the only word you remember.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, leaning over you, his chest pressed to your back. “You hear that? That’s your pussy talkin’ to me.”

He’s right.

It’s wet—obscene. Every thrust sounds like filth, slick and messy, your cunt fluttering greedily around him. You gasp as his hips press flush to your ass, his cock buried to the hilt, and he stays there—grinding. Deep and slow. Like he’s savoring how tight you are around him.

“God, I can’t get deep enough like this,” he growls, pulling out slow. “Turn over for me, baby—lemme see that ass.”

You moan, dizzy with need, and roll over—cheek pressed to the table, arms braced, legs trembling as he slips back in.

Then—

Smack.

You yelp, jumping slightly as his hand lands hard on your ass. The sound echoes through the kitchen. Your cunt clenches around him.

“There she is,” he growls, rubbing the sting in with a big, warm hand. “Always gets tighter when I spank you.”

“Samu,” you moan, shivering. “Again—”

Another smack.

You whimper, arching your back, presenting for him like a good girl.

“You’re filthy,” he pants, fucking into you again—slow and thick. “Come home from work all sweet and polite, then turn into a cockdrunk mess the second I get you on the table.”

“I missed you,” you breathe, voice trembling. “Missed your cock. Missed this.”

“Yeah?” His hand slides up your spine, fingers winding into your hair to gently tug your head back so he can kiss the side of your face. “This pussy miss me, baby?”

You whine—high, needy—grinding back into him. “So much.”

He groans into your skin, then pulls out slow—just the tip inside—and slams back in, hard enough to make the table creak beneath you.

You cry out, nearly folding over the wood, but he catches your hips.

“That’s it,” he grits, rutting into you again, hips smacking loud and sharp. “Let me fuck it better.”

His thrusts pick up, sloppy now—wet and deep, the sound of skin on skin echoing in your little kitchen, obscene and delicious. He’s panting into your neck, hands bruising on your hips, buried so deep inside you it feels like he’s touching your fucking soul.

“You love this, huh?” he growls. “Love comin’ home and gettin’ fucked dumb like this?”

“Yes—yes, baby, I love it—”

“You were so fuckin’ sweet walkin’ out the door this morning, actin’ all innocent in that cute little work outfit,” he pants, one hand coming down again—smack—harder this time, making you jerk forward with a cry. “Bet you were thinkin’ about my cock the whole damn day.”

You nod frantically, gasping. “Wanted your cock all day—”

“Should’ve told me,” he growls, grinding deep. “I’d’ve bent you over this table before you even get your keys.”

You moan, loud and unfiltered, your thighs shaking again.

His pace doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking into you like he owns it—your body, your cunt, your sounds. His cock drives in deep, again and again, that perfect spot hit over and over until your vision starts to blur.

You’re soaked. Gushing around him. So wet it’s dripping off your thighs onto the floor, messy and hot and loud. You feel another orgasm building fast—sharper this time, tighter, like a spring wound to the breaking point.

“Fuck—Samu—I’m gonna—”

“You gonna squirt again for me, baby?” he groans, thrusting harder. “So fuckin’ greedy tonight—”

He slips a hand between your legs, thumb rubbing your clit in tight circles, fucking you through it—hard and fast, like he wants to feel you fall apart again.

And you do.

You break with a scream—back arching, mouth open, body going rigid before you gush, helpless and messy, your juices spilling around him in hot waves. You feel it spray out, feel the slap of it against his thighs, the flood between your legs soaking the front of the counter.

Osamu groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Look at you,” he pants, never stopping. “So fuckin’ wet, baby—fuck—feel that? You’re milkin’ my cock—fuckin’ made for it—”

You’re limp. Wrecked. But he’s still going.

You moan, weakly now, every thrust sending aftershocks through your nerves. And you feel him twitch inside you, cock hard and pulsing, hips starting to stutter.

“Tell me where you want it,” he grits, hand clutching your waist. “Tell me where to finish.”

“In me,” you whimper, “Osamu—inside—wanna feel it. Wanna keep it in—”

“Fuck—fuck—” he grits out, voice cracking.

He slams in deep and stays, hips locking against yours as he cums with a growl—low and broken and possessive. You feel it fill you, thick and hot, pumping inside until it leaks around his cock and drips down your thighs, mixing with everything else you’ve spilled.

And still, he doesn’t pull out.

He bends over you, chest to your back, both of you trembling. He kisses your shoulder. Your cheek. Your neck.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice soft now, tender against your ear.

You nod, still panting. “I’m so full…”

He grins, slow and wicked, cupping your mound with one big hand, with his cock plunged in to keep it all in. “Damn right you are.”

And then he laughs—soft and low, one hand sliding up your spine to stroke your hair.

“I ever tell you how much I love it when my wife comes home to me?”

You laugh, exhausted. Wrecked. Soaked in love and slick and everything that’s his.

“Only every time you fuck me like this.”

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cartoonjessie · 4 months ago

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Double Dated - chapter 4, in which Maui and Tamatoa nervously wait for their dates to arrive... Or start reading from chapter 1 here. (New chapters get posted daily)

Maui was pacing in front of the restaurant while Tamatoa stood casually by his side, watching him curiously with his hands in his pockets, trying to look cool. “Why are you so nervous?” Tamatoa asked. “I’m not nervous!” Maui hissed, continuing his pacing, then stopping for a moment, then realizing he was too nervous to stand still, and he continued pacing. “I’ve literally seen you more relaxed while wrestling sharks, Maui, I think I can tell the difference.” Maui glared at him, shaking his head. “Why are you wearing a shirt like that? And those ridiculous suspenders? You look like you’re about to walk in there and fix someone’s computer.” Tamatoa crossed his arms, not appreciating the way Maui was talking to him. “What is wrong with this? It’s just a regular long-sleeved button-up shirt?” “Yeah well, with those pants and your glasses you look like a nerd.” “Jeez, Maui, they’re just trousers - would you prefer me to come in my boxers next time? And how am I supposed to see anything if I can’t even wear my glasses?”

[Read more here on AO3]

#moana #maui #tamatoa #simea #hooked wayfinder #moana x maui #simea x tamatoa #moaui #moana fanfiction #disney fanfiction #tamatoa is a mix between tamatoa and jemaine XD At least for this story.#also that picture I used in the header is actually a picture of Jemaine Clement - yep.#You can hardly tell but he's really got a fine chest if I do say so myself #to me it's no wonder Simea falls hard #but Moana doesn't see it XD #wayfinderfebruary #mine #my fic #my edit

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 10 months ago

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heyy, could you write abt bestfriend!bucky x bestfriend!reader, where they talk abt random stuff and then it comes up that bucky never saw boobs irl and reader decides to show him? maybe some smut in the end😝🎀

Help You Out With That » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky admits that he’s never seen boobs in real life so you decide to help him out with that and show him yours. Then one thing leads to another and you two end up hooking up.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, brief mention of alcohol, kissing, hickeys, fingering, female receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, Bucky’s dog tags, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“There’s no way you did that.” Bucky says laughing.

“I did.” You laughed. “When I was 16, my friends dared me and gave me $20 to jump in the river with no clothes on.” You tell him. “I just didn’t know there was a cop there.” You said laughing.

“Did you get arrested?” He asks curiously, taking a sip of beer.

“Yep.” You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “My parents were so pissed and I got grounded for the rest of that month.” You say.

You were over at Bucky’s apartment spending time with him and talking about random things. You two haven’t seen each other in a while due to him being on a week long mission. He got home last night and he asked you to come over today.

“So you were totally naked when you jumped in the river?” He asks.

“Yes.” You answered.

“Meaning that your friends and the cop saw your boobs?” He asks curiously.

“Yes.” You answered. “The cop told me to put my clothes on before he handcuffed me and took me to the police station.” You say.

“Hmm.” He hums, taking a long sip of his beer. “I’ve never seen boobs.” He admits.

You stared at him with a surprised look on your face, blinking a couple times. James Buchanan Barnes, the ladies man of the 1940s and your best friend, has never seen a woman’s boobs. He looks and seems like the kind of man who has seen literally almost everything in his life.

“You’ve never seen boobs?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

Bucky nods to confirm it, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You bit your bottom lip when an idea popped into your head. You leaned forward just enough to take off your tank top, dropping it on the floor. Bucky stared at you with wide eyes.

“What- What are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Showing you my boobs.” You confidently said. “I’m just gonna help you out with that.” You say with a wink.

Bucky watched you take your bra off and drop it on the floor. You stood up and sat on his lap, straddling him. Bucky wasn’t sure if he should look at your face or boobs.

“You can look at them.” You tell him. “I trust you.” You say.

Bucky’s eyes move down to your boobs, his breath got caught in his throat. He licked his lips as he stared at them with hungry eyes.

“You can touch them.” You say, shaking your chest to make your boobs jiggle.

Bucky hesitantly brought his hands up to your boobs. He put his hands on your sides just below your boobs. You shivered at the cool feeling of his vibranium hand against your skin. Bucky’s thumb rubbed against the underside of your boobs before moving his hands more towards your boobs. He gently cupped them, his thumbs rubbed over your nipples, making you moan softly.

Bucky decided to take it a step further. He leaned his head forward, placing kisses along the swells of your boobs. His teeth nipped on your skin, hard enough to mark you up. He slowly moved his lip down towards on of your nipples, taking it in his mouth. His tongue swirled around your nipple, flicking the hardened bud with the tip of his tongue. You moaned at the feeling. Your hands grasped onto his shirt, clutching it in your hands.

You didn’t even realize you were moving your hips against his till you felt his bulge rubbing against your pussy through your shorts. You could feel your panties getting wetter by the second. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. You were also enjoying the feeling of his stubble against your skin.

Bucky’s hand found its way to the back of your head and moved it so you were looking at him. He moved his lips upwards to your lips, kissing you hungrily. You cupped his cheeks to intensify the kiss. The kiss got more heated by the second. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, making you part your lips just enough for his tongue to slide itself in your mouth, exploring every inch of your mouth.

Bucky put his hands on your hips, holding onto you with a tight grip so he can maneuver the two of you so you were laying on the couch and Bucky was on top of you. His right hand left your hip to unbutton and unzip your shorts. He slid his hand inside of your shorts, touching your panties and finding out how wet your panties are.

“You’re so fucking wet, doll.” Bucky groans against your lips.

“It’s all because of you.” You say.

Bucky smirked against your lips and slide his hand in the front of your panties. His fingers began rubbing your clit. You bucked your hips against his hand, wanting more. Bucky chuckles at your eagerness.

“Eager, aren’t you, babydoll?” Bucky chuckles.

You whined at his words and bucked your hips against his hand again.

“Patiences, doll face.” He says softly.

Bucky pulled away from your lips and kissed down your body, stopping just above the waistbands of your shorts and panties. He looked up at you, waiting for permission, which you gave him. He hooked his fingers in the waistbands of your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one go and threw them somewhere in the living room.

He kissed both of your hipbones before placing soft kisses on your inner thighs, making his way to your wet pussy. You shivered when you felt his breath on where you need him the most. Bucky licked in between your folds, catching you off guard and moaning to himself.

“Just as I thought.” He licks your folds again. “You taste amazing.” He practically moans.

His tongue licked from your entrance to your clit a few times before circling the tip of his tongue around your clit. You bucked your hips at the feeling. Bucky laid his vibranium arm across your hips to hold you down.

“Stay still.” His voice sounding husky. “I want to enjoy your sweetness before I fuck you.” He says.

Bucky latched his lips onto your clit, sucking on it while his tongue continues to lick your slick on your folds. He ate you out like a starved man. Your hands flew down to his head, your fingers tugging on his hair. You lifted your head up and looked down at him. Bucky’s eyes flickered up at you and winked at you.

You were caught off guard when Bucky slid a finger in your pussy. You moaned at the feeling of his finger rubbing along your walls. You got lost in your thoughts. You were curious to know how this man knows how to eat pussy like a pro, but has never seen boobs. That thought floated around in your mind till Bucky snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Did I make you go dumb with my tongue, doll face? I was expecting you to go dumb on my cock.” Bucky says cockily.

You just moaned at his dirty words. His dirty words turned you on even more. You threw your head back against the arm of the couch in pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Nuh uh.” Bucky’s vibranium hand gently tapped your cheek. “Eyes on me, babydoll.” He orders.

You huffed softly before opening your eyes and readjusted your head so you were looking down at him eating you out.

“That’s it.” He softly praises. “Good girl.” He praises again.

Bucky went back to eating you out. His tongue licked from your clit to your entrance. The tip of his tongue prodded your entrance, catching you by surprise and making a pornographic moan fall from your lips. Bucky smirked to himself and did it again, earning another pornographic moan from you. Your pussy also clenched around his finger.

Your orgasm began to build up and your legs started to shake a little bit. Your back arched off of the couch when his finger hit your sweet spot. His tongue continued to flick against your clit. You already knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“I can feel you getting close, doll.” Bucky huskily said. “Are you gonna cum?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yes!” You answered in a whimper. “Please let me cum!” You begged desperately.

“Cum for me, babydoll.” He says.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan of his name left your lips when you came, soaking his fingers and face. Bucky’s tongue gave your clit one last flick before he sat up. His beard was drenched in your juices. He hovered over you, kissing you hungrily. You moaned against his lips.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss to take off his clothes. You watched with hungry eyes. You licked your lips when you finally got to see his perfectly sculpted body. Your eyes wandered further down his body. Your eyes stared at his cock. He’s big. His cock is hard and leaking with precum.

“My eyes are up here, gorgeous.” Bucky says, playfully snapping his fingers.

You sat up and reached for his Army dog tags, grabbing onto the chain and yanked on them to pull him closer to you. You kissed him with hunger. You moaned when you felt his cock against your pussy. You reached a hand down and stroked his cock, making Bucky moan softly against your lips.

“Fuck me please, Bucky.” You begged softly, letting go of his cock.

Bucky held the base of his cock, lining it at your entrance. He watched your facial expressions as he slid his cock in your pussy. Your mouth fell open when you felt him stretching you open.

“So big.” You say breathlessly.

You spread your legs wider to give him more access. Bucky’s hands rubbed up and down your waist before holding onto it. His thrusts started off slow and loving, but sped up enough to make it pleasurable. Your hands grasped onto his biceps, digging your nails in his skin and the vibranium.

You quickly got entranced by his dog tags dangling just above your face. His dog tags swung every time he thrusted. You grabbed onto them and pulled on them just enough to get Bucky to lean down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy, but your lips with in sync with his.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss and moved back just enough to stare at your boobs, quickly getting mesmerized by them bouncing as he thrusted into you. He licked his lips at the sight. He dipped his head down to kiss softly along the swells of your boobs. While his lips were occupied with kissing your boobs, his right hand left your waist and found its way to your boob. His thumb rubbed over your nipple and circled it a few times before pinching it. A tingle shot through your body, along with a moan falling from your lips.

“Fuck, Bucky!” You moaned.

“I love the way you say my name.” Bucky huskily said. “Say it again.” He says.

“Oh Bucky!” You moaned again.

You moaning his name urged Bucky on. His thrusts got faster. You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together and pulled himself closer to you. That made Bucky’s cock go deeper in your pussy. A loud moan left your lips when his cock found your sweet spot with ease. Your hands found their way to his back, digging your nails in his skin and making red line marks.

“Right there!” You tell him. “Right fucking there!” You say again, followed by a moan.

“Is that your little spot, babydoll?” He asks in a cooing voice.

You moaned in response. You arched your back in pleasure. You practically shoved your boobs in Bucky’s face, which he had no problem with.

Bucky’s vibranium hand snaked its way down to your clit and started rubbing it. You jumped slightly at the cool feeling, but quickly got used to it. Your pussy clenched around his cock at the feeling of his fingers against your clit, making Bucky moan at the feeling.

“Fuck…” Bucky moans.

Your orgasm built up the more Bucky rubbed your clit. You felt your lower stomach tighten. It felt like a rubber band was about to snap inside of you. You weren’t sure how much you could take.

“Bucky, I- fuck!” You moaned more in a whimper. “I’m going to cum.” You tell him. “Please let me cum.” You begged desperately.

“Cum for me, gorgeous.” Bucky says huskily.

His fingers rubbed your clit faster. That’s when you fell over the edge. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and his name fell from your lips in a loud moan when you came.

“That’s a good girl.” He praises. “Good fucking girl.” He praises again.

Bucky gave your clit one last rub and then focused on his own orgasm, which wasn’t too far behind yours. His thrusts got sloppy, but he quickly regain rhythm. Bucky’s head fell against your chest.

“I need to- fuck… I need to pull out, doll.” He says, panting.

“No!” You whined. “Cum in me.” You tell him.

“You can’t just say shit like that, babydoll.” He says.

“Just do it! I want to feel it!” You tell him.

“Dirty girl.” He growls.

Bucky came inside of you after a few more thrusts. His thrusts came to a halt. He unwrapped your legs from his waist and sat back on the couch. The two of you were panting and sweaty.

“That was…” You breathed, trying to find the right words to describe the best sex you just had with Bucky.

“Fucking incredible.” Bucky says.

“Mhmm.” You hummed, nodding your head.

Bucky looked over at you. He admired the hickeys he left all over your boobs.

“Thank you for helping me out with that.” He says.

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck.” You sat up. “I’ll show you my boobs anytime you want to see them.” You say and bit your bottom lip, shaking your chest to make your boobs jiggle.

Bucky grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap, making you squeal.

“You have great boobs.” Bucky says, licking his lips and making you giggle.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

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81pastrys · 3 months ago

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Laziness

Summary— Quiet, soft, gentle mornings with Lando and his girlfriend

Warnings— smut ; soft sex ; no protection (don’t do this) ; morning sex

A/N— enjoy!!!

Lando One Shots

Request— Can you do some morning sex with lando?

The mornings had always been calm with Lando. He liked sleep, she liked sleep, nothing can go wrong. They had just returned from a triple header and traveling together, the only ‘decent’ sleep was in a hotel bed.

She missed her bed at home, with her covers already worn and Lando’s scent masked in them. Lando couldn’t really be bothered by any specific bed, as long as it was comfortable he could sleep.

He woke up on his back and turned to look at his girlfriend, lying on her side, still asleep. He hummed and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her in closer.

“Morning lan.” She muttered with a raspy voice. He kissed her bare shoulder and she hummed. They only slept in undergarments half the time, leaving her in just underwear and him in boxers.

“Morning my love.” He hummed. His body was warm against hers. He shuffled closer and she felt it before he mentioned it. “Ah fuck me.” He muttered, hissing at the sensation he caused himself.

“Only if we can stay like this.” She mumbled to him. He smirked and got to work on taking their underwear off. She hummed again when he lifted her leg to line himself up.

He slowly pushed in at the awkward angle and groaned. “You’re always so tight in the morning, fuck.” He moaned out, slightly struggling to fit inside her at the angle. She rolled over and let him slip out, facing him now and hooking her leg over his hip.

He slid in much easier now, both of them moaning as he bottomed out. “Much better.” She hummed, still tired. He smiled at her. Her eyes still closed yet she was awake.

He could smell her flowery shampoo and body wash from the shower she had taken the night before and groaned as he began thrusting. “So beautiful, my love.” He whispered to her.

He was much gentler with her in the mornings. Other times rough and merciless, but this- was gentle, soothing, and calm. “So full.” She gasped. He chuckled, moving a hand to her waist to move her against him.

“Yeah? Tell me how it feels my love.” He cooed to her. She answered with broken moans interrupting her. “Such a sweet girl in the mornings.” He kissed her without any rush.

She curled up into him more and he knew she was close. He moved their bodies together, creating a rhythm to get them both closer to a climax. She moaned into his mouth and he smiled again, moving her hair out of her face.

“So close aren’t you pretty little thing?” He teased. She moaned again and he felt her walls constrict against him as his movements were brought to a halt. She shook and writhed in his arms as her orgasm crashed down. “Squeezing me so tight, Jesus.” He muttered, looking between their bodies.

She kissed him again and he gave a few more thrusts before spilling his load messily in the sheets. “I needed to clean the sheets anyway.” She joked with a smile.

“Good morning.” Lando smiled again, her eyes staying open now.

“Good morning.” She said back.

I’m gonna start shooting these out so beware.

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @kallanfiona

395 notes · View notes

haeiheart · 3 months ago

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LEE DONGHYUCK | NOT A BIG DEAL

LEE DONGHYUCK

SUMMARY: You and Hyuck have always been inseparable. Best friends who stick together through every minor inconvenience, every 2 AM fast-food run, and especially every party. Their little deal? If they’re both single and drunk at a party, they make out for a good time and purely to avoid awkward hookups with strangers. No feelings, no complications. It’s a good deal no? But when a new guy, Jeno, enters y/n life just like that. They both feel that for the first time, their “not a big deal” deal feels like it might’ve always been something bigger.

GENRE: friends to lovers - kind of fwb hyuckyn - jealous avoidant hyuck! - sweet jeno - minimal angst - slight reader x jeno.

NOTES: first time releasing a full written fic… bye im scared pls be kind (◞‸◟；) also first time making a header? design?? hehehehe. I hope you guys enjoy this though, i personally enjoyed written it so i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed making it for you guys!! :3 THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD SO IM SORRY IF THERES ANY ERRORS >_<

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

BEFORE THE PARTY

You and Hyuck have always been inseparable. The best of friends. The kind who finish each other’s sentences, send texts at the exact same time, and know each other’s go-to orders at every café on campus. It’s always been easy with hyuck. You don’t overthink things with him.

That’s why your little pact made perfect sense.

“If we’re both single, and we’re both at a party, and we’re both drunk, we find each other.”

It wasn’t some deep, life changing agreement. It was just a way to keep each other from making bad decisions with strangers. A safety net, nothing more. It always worked. Every single time. It was the perfect deal after all, you both get the pleasure needed in a fun night out. No commitment, no feelings.

Until tonight. But let’s rewind back a couple of weeks.

The day you met Lee Jeno.

3 WEEKS AGO @NCU CAMPUS

College life has always been a blur of assignments, late-night food runs, and whatever chaos Hyuck drags you into. Between classes and parties, your days feel like a well-balanced mix of stress and fun. Thank goodness you had your best friend to keep you sane right?

You first met Jeno during an elective course, one of those random classes you picked to fill credits unfortunately. He was the kind of guy who didn’t talk much but somehow made every conversation feel important. You sat next to him out of convenience, and it wasn’t until the next few classes that you really spoke to him, which was currently right now.

“Do you always write your notes like that?” he had asked, glancing at your mess of shorthand scribbles and little doodles in the margins. You could tell he wanted to laugh at it.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”

He grinned. “It’s interesting. You do know this is a literature class, right? Because your notes look more like a doodle coloring book for toddlers my baby brother's age rather than actual notes.”

You snorted. “Well, you look like you should be in an engineering class, not here.”

“I was forced to take a humanities elective,” he admitted. “But it’s not bad. I like the class.”

“Because of the material or because of me?” you teased, raising a brow.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

And just like that, Jeno slipped into your life.

The thing about him was that he never tried too hard, he didn’t force his presence, didn’t demand attention the way Hyuck did. He was just… there. Reliable. Easy to talk to. It was easy to get hooked on a guy like Jeno.

You started walking out of class together, grabbing coffee before your next lectures. You studied together, shared snacks, exchanged casual texts that eventually turned into daily check-ins. Somewhere along the way, you got comfortable with him. But it wasn’t until one particular afternoon that you noticed something else.

OPEN FIELD STUDY AREA @NCU CAMPUS

It was another dreadful afternoon, pilled with assignments you swore just appeared in front of your face. You and Jeno were sitting outside on campus, reviewing notes. Though half the time you guys were mostly making corny jokes and laughing at shared interests. That was until Hyuck showed up unannounced, like he always did, dropping himself onto the bench next to you with a dramatic sigh.

“What’s up, losers?” he greeted, snatching one of your fries before you could react, looking as happy as always to mess with your little head.

You rolled your eyes as a faint smile appears on your face. It’s been awhile since you saw him. “Hyuck, this is a study session. You know, where people focus?”

“Sounds lame,” he deadpanned, then turned to Jeno. “So, how do you put up with this one?”

Jeno smirked. “I think she puts up with me.”

Hyuck’s expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to catch the slight pause—the way his fingers drummed against his knee a little too fast, the way his jaw tightened for just a second. It was so quick that you almost missed it. Almost.

But then, as fast as it came, it was gone. Hyuck smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “Well, good luck, man. She’s a handful.” You smacked his arm, rolling your eyes again, but the feeling lingered. Hyuck only stuck around for a short while and you never questioned it, but the odd part was he was too quick to leave the setting as well. Feeling lost as he suddenly got up and fled the scene after saying his byes and ruffling your hair.

After that, things felt… different. Not drastically. Not in a way you could point to and say, this is where everything changed. But the subtle things. Like how Hyuck stopped crashing your study sessions with Jeno as often. How he’d make jokes about you “ditching” him but never say it outright. How he seemed to drink more at parties, getting reckless in a way that made you worry.

It wasn’t obvious, but it was there, buried beneath layers of laughter and banter. And maybe you noticed it too late.

@NEOCAFE - 127 DISTRICT

Hyuck doesn’t text first anymore.

That’s the first thing you notice.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, you’ve been busy anyway. School, assignments, late-night study sessions with Jeno. But the silence sits in your chest like a weight, pressing down heavier each day. You truly did miss your best friend, nobody else was as much of a dork loser like he was.

You still see him around. In class, at parties, in the spaces you used to share. But it’s different now.

No more texts that say where are you? when you take too long to respond. No more arms slung over your shoulder as he drags you out of the library for a “much-needed” break. No more late-night walks, just because neither of you wanted to go home yet. God you truly did miss lee donghyuck.

The worst part? You know it’s your fault. You were the one who stopped looking for him first. You were the one who let the space between you grow. And now, you don’t know how to close it.

Jeno Notices “You’ve been quiet lately.” Jeno’s voice is gentle, his eyes scanning your face as you stare blankly at your untouched coffee. It’s the third time he’s caught you zoning out in the past hour and he was getting worried.

You blink, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

He doesn’t buy it. You can tell by the way he tilts his head, studying you. “It’s about Hyuck, isn’t it?” The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. You exhale, looking away. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Jeno doesn’t say anything right away. He just nods, as if he already knew. And maybe he did. Maybe everyone did. You’ve spent so much time pretending things are fine that you almost forgot Jeno sees right through you.

So when he reaches out, fingers brushing over yours, you don’t pull away. Infact you allow yourself to get embraced by his comfort. Was Jeno’s comfort what you needed all this time?

@YOUR APARTMENT

The thing about Jeno is that he never rushes anything.

Not his words, not his movements, nothing. He lets things happen as they are, as if he trusts time to work things out on its own. Which is probably why being around him feels so easy, you always had a smile on your face when you were with him.

Like now, for example. You’re both sitting on the floor of your dorm, backs against the couch, a half-empty bag of chips between you. You’ve been talking for what feels like hours—about everything and nothing all at once.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jeno says, holding up a hand to stop you mid-story, his eyes already crinkling in amusement. “You mean to tell me you climbed a tree to save a cat, but then got stuck yourself?”

You groan, covering your face. “Okay, listen—”

“No, no, no, I need to process this.” He grins, resting his chin on his palm. “How long were you up there?”

“Like… twenty minutes?” you mumble, cheeks burning from embarrassment clearly…

Jeno loses it. He tilts his head back, laughing so hard his shoulders shake. You gotta admit that laugh of his does wonders to girls. He was a real catch. A once in a lifetime cutie, you should consider yourself lucky to have him around right?

You huff, crossing your arms. “Are you done?”

He wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “Oh man. I- yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good.” He snickers again. “Twenty minutes. Amazing.”

You try to glare at him, but his laugh is infectious, and soon enough, you’re giggling too.

Jeno turns to look at you, a soft smile lingering on his lips. “Y’know, I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk about yourself.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“I mean, you’re always talking about Hyuck or your friends, but I like hearing about you.” He leans against the couch, watching you. “Your dumb little childhood stories. Your love for cats. Your terrible decision-making skills.”

You snort, nudging his leg with your foot. “You’re such a menace.”

“And you love it.”

You shake your head, smiling. “I might.”

Jeno tilts his head, studying you for a second. His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Are you okay?”

The question catches you off guard. You consider lying, but Jeno has always been good at seeing through people. So you exhale, looking down at your hands.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I just feel… lost.”

Jeno doesn’t say anything right away. He just shifts a little closer, his knee bumping against yours. You don’t realize how much you needed that until it happens.

“I get that,” he finally says. “Sometimes it feels like you’re walking through fog, and you don’t know where you’re going. But…” He nudges you lightly. “That doesn’t mean you’re alone.”

You look up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, warm and genuine. “I’m here.” You don’t know what possesses you to do it—maybe it’s the way his voice is so steady, so sure. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re important. But before you can overthink it, you lean in.

Jeno’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his lips quirk up in amusement.

“You’re not about to kiss me mid-existential crisis, are you?”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Shut up.”

But he’s still grinning when he finally closes the distance. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first. But then you feel him smile against your lips, and suddenly, it’s all laughter and warmth and the taste of leftover chips.

You break apart for air, and Jeno chuckles. “That was—”

You groan, covering your face. “Don’t say it.”

“— surprisingly nice for two people who just ate sour cream and onion chips.”

You swat at him, laughing. “You ruined it.”

He catches your wrist, grinning. “Nah. That made it better.”

You shake your head, still breathless, still here. Jeno doesn’t fail to make your day once again, as he leans in, continuing where you both had left off as if it was almost natural.

And for the first time in a while, you don’t feel so lost.

PRESENT TIME

And this is how your weeks have been spent. With Lee Jeno. Full of kisses, laughter, playfulness, and comfort. Jeno arrives with an armful of snacks, two sodas balanced precariously on top. “Alright, before we do anything, I have to ask…why do you have like, seven different cat towers in your apartment? Are they that spoiled?” as he takes in his surroundings once again.

You shut the door behind him and scoff. “Excuse you, my children deserve the best.”

Jeno grins, setting the snacks down. “How many do you have again?”

“Three.” You sigh dramatically. “But honestly, I think my oldest cat hates me.”

He snorts. “Why?”

“Because I accidentally stepped on her tail when she was a kitten, and she’s never forgiven me.” You flop onto the couch, pouting. “Now every time I call her, she looks at me like I owe her child support.” Jeno bursts out laughing, nearly knocking over the bag of chips. “That’s the most you thing I’ve ever heard.”

You nudge him with your foot. “Oh, shut up. You’ve definitely done worse.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Doubt it.”

“Oh really? What’s the dumbest injury you’ve ever had?”

He thinks for a moment before admitting, “I once tried to jump over my couch but tripped, hit my head on the armrest, and passed out.”

You gasp. “Wait—like, fully unconscious?”

“Yup.” He sighs. “Woke up two minutes later to my mom yelling at me for being stupid.”

You’re already laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “Okay, okay, once, when I was seven, I thought I could ride my bike down the biggest hill in my neighborhood with my eyes closed.”

Jeno’s eyes widen. “No. No.”

“Yes,” you wheeze. “Flew straight into a bush. My mom had to pull twigs out of my hair for an hour.”

He practically collapses against the couch, laughing until his shoulders shake. “You’re actually crazy as a kid.”

“Thank you,” you say proudly.

The laughter fades into a comfortable silence. Jeno leans back, staring at the ceiling. “You know, I never really asked—but what was Hyuck like when you were kids?”

You hesitate, but the memories come easily. “Chaotic. Loud. Got us into trouble, like, every other day. He would drag me into the most ridiculous situations and it wasn’t even my fault.”

Jeno smirks. “Sounds about right.”

You smile softly. “One time, we thought we could build a pillow fort. We barely even got the first pillow up before the entire thing collapsed and we both fell.”

He laughs. “Did you get hurt?”

“Surprisingly, no. But Hyuck cried for a full hour because he swore it was sabotage.”

Jeno shakes his head, amused. “He hasn’t changed at all, has he?”

“Nope.” You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve. “He’s always been… Hyuck.”

There’s a pause, but Jeno doesn’t push. He just watches you, waiting.

You clear your throat. “Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

He hums, tapping his chin. “Alright. You know how everyone thinks I’m all sporty and serious?”

“Yeah?”

“Well.” He leans in like he’s about to share a top-secret confession. “I used to write fanfiction.”

You choke on your drink. “No way.”

“Oh, it gets worse.” He sighs dramatically. “It was about superheroes.”

“What kind? Marvel? DC?”

“Neither. Completely original characters. I had a whole series.”

You clutch your stomach from laughing so hard. “Jeno. Are you telling me you were a self-insert superhero fanfic writer?”

He groans, covering his face. “Look, I was twelve—”

“NO, THIS IS AMAZING.” You grab his arm. “Did you give yourself powers? A tragic backstory?”

He peeks at you between his fingers. “…Both.”

You collapse into the couch, wheezing. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever learned about you.”

He grins. “Alright, your turn. What’s your cringiest secret?”

You pause, then admit, “Okay this might not be cringy… but i had a harry potter phase.”

Jeno gasps, clutching his chest. “What house were you in?”

“…Slytherin.”

He high-fives you. “Respect.”

The conversation keeps flowing, lighthearted and easy. You talk about everything, old childhood memories, embarrassing moments, ridiculous hypothetical scenarios (what would you do if you woke up as a worm?), and somehow, even the meaning of life.

It’s fun. It’s comfortable.

But beneath it all, there’s something bittersweet.

Because you both know this is goodbye.

Eventually, the night slows down. The laughter fades, leaving only the quiet hum of the TV in the background. You shift, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “Jeno…”

He already knows. You can see it in his expression.

Still, he lets you say it.

“I have to go find him,” you admit softly.

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles? He smiles. A small, knowing smile. “Yeah.”

You swallow hard. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” His voice is gentle. “You never had to say it, y/n. I knew.”

Your throat tightens. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He reaches for your hand, squeezing it lightly. “But… can I ask for one last thing?”

You nod, already knowing what it is.

“One last kiss,” he murmurs.

So you kiss him.

It’s soft, lingering. A silent thank you. A quiet goodbye.

When you pull away, he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. That was a solid 9/10.”

You snort. “Only 9?”

“Could’ve been a 10, but my foot fell asleep.”

You smack his arm, laughing. “Shut up.”

He grins. “Go. Before I change my mind and challenge Hyuck to a duel.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re already reaching for your shoes.

And as you step out the door, heart racing, you realize—

This time, you’re going to run toward Hyuck.

Because he’s always been the one and it’s about time you told him.

@HYUCKS HOUSE

You don’t know why you’re nervous.

Actually, scratch that—you do know why.

Because this is Hyuck.

Because it’s been weeks. Because you let the distance grow, and now you’re about to do the most humiliating thing possible: show up at his door in the middle of the night, probably looking like a disaster, and pour your heart out.

Great plan. Really solid. No notes.

Still, you knock.

And the second the door swings open, all your thoughts evaporate.

Hyuck stands there, hoodie slightly rumpled, his hair sticking up like he was asleep before you interrupted. His face is groggy, blinking at you like he’s trying to make sure you’re real.

“…y/n?”

You open your mouth.

And immediately start crying.

Like, full-on tears. Embarrassing.

Hyuck panics. “Wait, huh, are you okay??”

You sniff, waving your hands wildly. “I— hiccup— I don’t know why I’m crying!”

His hands move without hesitation, reaching for your arms, steadying you. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” His grip is warm, grounding. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head rapidly, but the tears won’t stop. God you really missed him.

Hyuck makes a helpless noise before sighing and tugging you against him. His arms wrap around you, firm but careful, like he’s worried you might break.

You bury your face in his hoodie, gripping the fabric tightly.

Hyuck rubs your back in slow circles. “Okay. Just—breathe, yeah?”

You sniffle, nodding against his chest. His warmth seeps into your skin, comforting in a way nothing else has been these past few weeks.

And then, before he can say anything else, the words just spill out.

“I just— Hyuck, I missed you.”

His hold on you tightens for a second before he pulls back slightly, just enough to see your face. His brows furrow, but he stays quiet, letting you talk.

“You’re— you’re so important to me, okay? And I hate that I let us drift apart. And I hate that I didn’t realize sooner that you are—” You hiccup again, rubbing at your face. “I don’t even know what I’m saying, I just miss you so much, and everything sucks without you, and I—”

Hyuck suddenly squints at you. “…Are you drunk?”

You freeze. “What?”

“You’re being so dramatic right now.” His lips twitch like he’s holding back laughter. “You have to be drunk.”

You gape at him. “I am not drunk, you absolute—”

“I dunno…” He crosses his arms, pretending to analyze you as he leans closer to your face. “Messy hair, teary eyes, emotional confessions in the dead of night… this is very intoxicated behavior.”

You groan, shoving at his shoulder. “I swear I’m sober—”

“Alright, c’mon, Crybaby.” He snickers, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside. “At least cry in my room instead of my doorstep.”

You let him drag you in, still sniffling as he kicks the door shut behind you.

And just like that, you’re home.

Hyuck flops onto his bed, patting the space next to him. “C’mere, you baby.” You roll your eyes but sit down anyway, pulling your knees to your chest.

Silence settles between you. Not awkward, not tense. Just… there.

Hyuck sighs, tilting his head toward you. “You really missed me that much?”

You swallow, nodding. “Yeah.”

He watches you for a moment, then scoffs lightly. “Idiot. I was always here, y’know.”

Your heart clenches. “I know. I was just—”

“Being dumb?”

You groan. “Yes, okay! I was being dumb.”

Hyuck smirks, but it softens as he nudges your knee with his. “It sucked without you, too.”

Your breath catches. “Yeah?”

“Obviously.” He huffs, looking away like admitting it pains him. “Who else was gonna make me leave my apartment and go on stupid 2AM snack runs?”

You let out a small laugh. “You love those snack runs.”

“Yeah, but I love them with you.”

You freeze.

Hyuck doesn’t seem to notice what he just said, or maybe he does, because he clears his throat quickly and sits up straighter. “Anyway. What was up with that dramatic monologue outside? You really that miserable without me?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah.”

He blinks.

You sigh, rubbing your arms. “Hyuck, you’re— you’re my person.” You glance at him, eyes searching. “You always have been.” You meant it.

Something shifts in his expression.

For the first time all night, he’s quiet.

Your heart pounds. “I—”

“Wait.” He suddenly lifts a hand, stopping you. Then, deadpan— “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

You groan, shoving his face away. “Hyuck!”

He bursts into laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners.

And even though you’re this close to smacking him, you realize—

This is why you came back.

Because no one makes your heart race and your soul feel alive like Lee Donghyuck. You don’t even realize how close you’ve gotten until his laughter fades, leaving only the soft hum of the night around you. His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes.

A beat of silence.

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he leans in.

And you meet him halfway.

The kiss is warm, slow— like a quiet understanding. Like something that had always been there, waiting to be noticed. It wasn’t like all the other kisses, the party hookups. This was real.

His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss just a little, enough to make your breath hitch.

When you finally pull away, he exhales, pressing his forehead against yours.

“…Yup.” He grins. “You definitely weren’t supposed to kiss me like that if you were drunk.”

You laugh softly, still slightly breathless. “Shut up.”

He hums, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Not a chance.”

And this time, when he kisses you again, neither of you stop to think.

Because for once, nothing else matters.

NOTES: I wouldve wrote longer but my brain fogged oops but i hope you guys enjoyed!!

#lee donghyuck #nct donghyuck #haechan #lee haechan #nct dream #nct 127 #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck x reader #nct dream donghyuck #nct #nct x reader

688 notes · View notes

fireheartpages · 4 months ago

Text

my boy | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader

masterlist

word count: 4.9k

summary: the three times bodhi called you his, and the first time you called him mine.

notes: second person pov with a femreader. canon typical violence. no use of y/n. written in past tense bc by the time i realized it was too late! human beings are flawed by nature. turned out a lil angstier and longer than i intended. onyx storm fucked me up so bad and i missed him. the scene that inspired this whole thing got cut so do with that what you will. set during iron flame. in my head this is bodhi and baby from toml but you don’t have to read that to read this. just a lil drabble. also bringing back headers bc my fics need a little sparkle. proofread after three glasses of wine.

Your face stung.

"I'm sorry," Bodhi said quickly, hand jerking back. "I know, I just—"

"It's fine." You swallowed hard and shut your eyes, like maybe if you didn't see the bloodied cloth with antiseptic on it, it would hurt less.

"That flier did a real number on you," he said quietly, and you felt the warmth of his hand settle on your cheek, before the cool bite against the wound.

"Those challenges are bullshit," you ground out.

There was a heavy sigh, and then the touch lightened. You opened your eyes to see he had moved his hand away, setting the rag down. "I think you need to see a mender."

You shook your head. "It's a scratch. Put an adhesive on it."

"There's a lot of swelling," he said, waves of concern radiating off of him. "What if there's a fracture?"

"I will heal," you snap.

You watch as his eyes flare with surprise, and he quickly masks the hurt. You sigh, shoulders slouching.

"I'm sorry." You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling him closer. "I'll be okay, Bo. Seriously."

"Let me go get Brennan," he said gently. "Just to check—"

"I really don't want you to," you said, pleaded, and he seemed to relent. "None of us can have preferential treatment."

"It's not preferential treatment if you need it," he whispered, gingerly placing a bandage across your cheekbone.

"It was an ill-timed punch," you said. "I'll live."

You met his gaze as he pulled back, and he seemed to search you, looking for something you couldn't name. He sighed, looking down.

“Your hands?”

Your head snapped up, and you quickly tucked your hands away, forcing yourself to stop picking at the peeling skin. Wrapping them for sparring always made it a little bit worse.

“It’s fine.”

He only sighed and pulled your wrists gently, tugging them until he could see the splitting on your palms, between your fingers. He reached for the extra salve you kept next to his bedside, and gently began to message it into the skin there, taking extra care where it had split and where it was the thinnest. "Not all fliers are so bad. Syrena is really nice, if you ever get the chance to meet her."

"I like Maren," you supplied, studying the lines of his face. The delicate hook of his nose, the arch of his upper lip, the slope of his cheekbones. "Her best friend is a real piece of work, though."

Bodhi laughed at that, exchanging out your hands. "Yeah, Catriona is... a lot."

"That's one way to say it," you mumbled. You sucked in a deep breath—and wince. A hand went to your ribs.

Bodhi’s head snapped up, a furrow between his strong brows, and he abandoned his task, instead cradling your side with one hand and your face in another. Concern laced in his features. "You didn't say your ribs were hurting."

"I didn't realize they were," you answered. "Got me better than I thought, I guess."

He shook his head. "Let me—"

"No." You cut him a glare, but there wasn’t much menace behind it. "I'll be okay. I just need... sleep, probably."

"Let's get in bed."

You screwed up your nose. "We still have half a day of classes."

"Fuck that," he said sincerely. "My girl is hurt."

You arched a brow. "Your girl?"

He flashed a sheepish smile, ducking his head as his curls fell over his temple. "Sorry, I just... liked the way it sounded."

You sucked in a breath. Suddenly, there was too little space between you. "You still have half a day of classes."

"There is literally nothing I care about less," he said earnestly. "Let me lay down with you. Please."

You glanced at the bed, the black blanket covering it looking like the most inviting thing you'd ever seen. You sighed. "I'm fine. We should go."

"Baby," he said, and you liked the way it sounded. You always liked the way it sounded.

“We probably shouldn’t walk back together,” you said, reaching for your flight jacket. You winced as you tried to pull it over yourself.

A hand on your shoulder stopped you, and Bodhi gently spun you around to face him. “This is about the ‘my girl’ comment,” he said, and pinned you with a look that made all the fight leave your body.

“No,” you said, and it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t sure if it was the truth. You sighed. “I just don’t want people to get any ideas.”

He stepped back. “You don’t wanna be seen with me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you said quickly. “You’re talented, and you’re in leadership, and I’m a year below you. With everything between us and the fliers now, someone’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

His shoulders slumped. “You don’t want someone saying you slept your way to safety.”

You nodded, looking down, because it was suddenly impossible to meet his eye. Your cheeks heated. "I can fend for myself."

“Okay,” he said, taking a step closer. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your gaze until you were forced to look at him. You expected sadness, hurt, disappointment even, but all you found was mirth. “Sure. I like a good secret anyways. Makes it more fun.”

You couldn’t have even tried to fight the smile as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was delicate at first, gently exploring, sensing what you would give him. But you had learned a long time ago that there wasn’t a lot you wouldn’t do for the boy in front of you.

Your hands found the nape of your neck, twisting into the curls there, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

He broke the kiss only for a moment. “Can it still stay a secret, and we stay in bed for the rest of the day?”

“Someone’s gonna notice we’re both missing,” you say, barely more than a whisper against his cheek.

He brushed his nose against yours. “My cousin owns the place. I think we can get away with it.”

You giggled, nodding as he pulled you back. He sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly framing you between his thighs and looked up at you reverently. His lips were glossy from your kiss, eyes half lidded, and you breath caught in your throat at the sight of him gazing up at you. He smiled lazily.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and you couldn’t help but think the same about him.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

You had to stop finding yourself in these situations.

The same flier that had challenged you was in front of you and spitting mad. You weren’t even sure what it was about this time, but his shouting had drawn a crowd. Your cheek hadn’t even fully healed yet, and now you had another split lip. Courtesy of this asshole.

You couldn’t even remember his name if you tried. Something with an A? Ash, maybe? It didn’t really matter, once he started swinging. He was a first year, and unused to the fighting style of riders, but by Dunne if he wasn’t giving you a run for your money.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Violet and Sawyer come up behind you, thankful for the back up. Sawyer immediately tried to shove him off you, but was quickly gifted a darkening bruise around his eye.

“What the hell is your problem?” That voice belonged to Ridoc, and you weren’t even sure when he had gotten there. More people pushed around you, until you were surrounded by what looked like your entire section.

Including Bodhi.

“I thought you riders lived and died by your stupid Codex!” the flier spat.

“Our stupid codex says also says I can kill you if I feel like it, so maybe watch where you put your hands,” you snapped, and you feel someone brush at your shoulder.

But not before the flier’s fist landed square in your jaw.

Damn, he must have remembered where he hit you the first time, because the pain is blinding for a moment. The edges of your vision darkened, and you stumbled into a strong, familiar chest. An arm wrapped around you, and you’re shoved to the side. You felt the vibrato of his words in his chest, as if the anger was a palpable thing.

“Touch my girl again and you’ll lose the fucking hand—”

“Bodhi!” you snapped, turning to him with blazing eyes, because now he’d really done it.

Fuck, you practically felt the surprise radiating off of half of the people surrounding you—and there were a lot of people gathered for the show.

The anger in your morphed into something else—something new, something more volatile. Now, you were pissed at this flier, and ready to throttle Bodhi. Gods, you just had this fucking conversation. What did he think he was doing saying shit like that—

“Getting out of a fight because you’re warming leadership’s bed is a lot blow, even for a rider,” the flier said, and you saw red.

More shouting erupted. Bodhi nor anyone remaining soul had even a hope of catching you before you threw the next punch at the flier. It made its mark, landing so hard he stumbled back. Blood immediately sprayed from his nose, and you were too pissed off to care. You shoved the hands grabbing you off, ready to lay into the kid again, but a familiar figure pushed through. Rhiannon got in between the three of you, holding a hand up and sending Bodhi one of the nastiest glares you thought you’d ever seen her produce.

“Am I seriously breaking up fights between other cadets and my Section Leader?” Rhiannon hissed, and Bodhi faltered for a moment, looking to her, then to you, then back to the flier. “This is ridiculous. Go find something else to do with your spare time. Asper, you’re a first year. Pick on someone your own size if you want a chance to win the fight.”

“That’s—”

“I’m not finished.” She turned to you and Bodhi, opening her mouth to say something before shaking her head. “You two… I’m just disappointed. A second year and a Section Leader? Get yourselves under control before you embarrass me any further.” She looked back to Asper, who was still seething at you and Bodhi. “Go find something more productive to do with your time before I find something for you. You won’t like my pick, I promise.”

The flier scoffed. “You’re not even my squad leader.”

Another flier in brown leathers with a mop of brunette hair piled on top of her head appeared behind him. She wore a frown and looked utterly annoyed. “No, but I am.” She grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and shoved him away from your trio, but not before Asper managed to send a parting glare over his shoulder.

Rhiannon shipped to the two of you, eyes blazing. “Seriously?” she asked, and there was no part of you that wanted to respond. “He’s a first year.”

“He started it!” you protested, and immediately shrunk back. Wrong move.

Rhiannon shot Bodhi a glare. “You’re a Section Leader. You should have been the one to finish it.”

She marched away without a second glance, leaving the last part unsaid. That if you were any other second year, in any other situation, it wouldn’t have escalated the way it did.

A snort came from behind you. You turned and shot Ridoc a glare, but it didn’t deter him from opening his mouth.

“Didn’t know you guys were public like that.”

Four pairs of eyes turned on him.

“Was that the wrong thing to say?”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

You were pissed, and everyone around you knew it. Including, no other than the object of your chagrin.

"I just don't understand why you're mad at him," Saywer said for what felt like the millionth time, and you groaned at the history book in front of you.

"I do get it," Ridoc supplied from where he was seated next to Sawyer, the pair of them across from you at the study table you had snagged in the library. You were supposed to be working on assignments. The boys in front of you had, however, taken it upon themselves to lecture you your love life. Ridoc hadn't even opened the book in front of him. "I just think you're over-reacting."

"Bad choice of words," you warn, shooting him a scalding glare. He remained unperturbed.

"Sure," he continued. "But you know what I mean. Things are different now. Aretia isn't Basgiath. The rules are looser—"

"Hold on," Sawyer interjected.

"I mean, just look at Riorson and Vi," Ridoc continued. "Everyone knows they're together. And he's a lieutenant."

"We are not Xaden and Violet," you said, exasperated. "The point is that I didn't want to shout it from the roof tops. Because look what happens when you do!"

"The fliers hate us," Saywer supplied helpfully. "Your relationship status really has nothing to do with that. They would have chosen one thing or another to be picking fights about anyway."

"Besides, with Violet here, you and Durran are the least of their problems," Ridoc finished.

"You're still missing the point," you said, shaking your head.

"Explain it to me like I'm five, then," Ridoc said, attention focused on you. He had his arms crossed over his textbook. This study session was a damn lost cause.

"She's been doing that," Sawyer mumbled. He looked up to you, then behind you, and his eyes went wide. Ridoc glanced behind you as well, and you almost turned to look—you assumed it was Jesinia. Sawyer had been downright smitten lately, but there was the audible smack of Ridoc hitting his friend under the table. He shook his head.

"Ignore him," Ridoc said, attention turned back to you. "Continue."

You sighed, resigning yourself to the torture of having to explain this bullshit out loud. You had to admit, though. Having people to talk about it all with helped, even if it made you feel more and more like an idiot.

"Yeah, there's the fact that anyone who knows about..." You cringed. "…our situation is going to assume I'm sleeping with him for safety. Or power. Or whatever the hell they think. And that's annoying, because it's a mark on my character. But it also degrades what we have. And so we had that conversation, and I set a boundary, and then the second things get hairy, he crosses it. He makes both of us look like an ass. Makes me look like I can't protect myself without him there. If it had gotten out some other way, I couldn't have handled it. I've never been afraid of the gossip mill. But saying we're together and him overstepping and trying to fight my battles or me are two completely different things."

Ridoc nodded sagely. Sawyer just glanced behind you with wide eyes.

"Baby," and, oh, you know that voice.

You spun around, standing quickly as your pulse skyrocketed. Bodhi was behind you, looking for all the world like you had just kicked his puppy. Or maybe he was the kicked puppy. You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You whipped back to Ridoc. The bastard had a shit-easting grin on his face.

"You did that on purpose," you accused.

He just shrugged. "Wanted to make this all easier on you."

Sawyer smacked him upside his head.

You turned back to Bodhi, ready to say something, but all you could was shake your head.

"I didn't know," he said, and he took a step towards you. You took one back.

His face crumbled, and it was the sort of things a playwright put in a tragedy. Your chest nearly caved in at the sight of his fallen expression, and something broke inside you. Cracked right in two, and you knew then and there that the only glue capable of putting it together again was him.

"You just assumed," you said softly.

He sucked in a sharp breath, nodding. He was no longer looking at you. "Can we talk? Please?"

You grabbed your book from the table, sending Ridoc one last parting glare. You shook your head as you stepped towards him. "I'll see you tonight."

You made for the exit of the library, and when you rounded the corner, you had assumed he had let you go. That you'd made it all the way out.

"Wait, please."

You slowly spun around to see him there.

"I don't like watching my girl walk away upset," he said, low, quiet, and intimate. Private, just for you.

You sucked in a shaky breath. You held out a hand to the library door, as if you could motion at all of your thoughts and feelings and emotions like they were tangible things. "You heard what I said, I guess."

Bodhi nodded, and this time, when he stepped towards you, you didn't step away. "I'm sorry. Gods, I am so, so—"

"Can we talk about this later?" you asked, voice thick.

Bodhi's brow had a deep burrow, and it was clear he wanted to object, but he didn't. He instead shut his mouth, and nodded.

"I'll see you tonight," you said.

And like a fool, you walked away from him.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

There’s not much time for relaxing anymore. No more weekends, no more free time, and certainly no more parties. Leaning to fight venin is hard work.

But every once in a while, someone makes it happen. Leave it to a bunch of bored, pent-up twenty-somethings to find a stash and have a party. The alcohol wasn’t good, by any means, but it was making your head foggy, and you had nothing to do until, like, noon the next day. You were practically free.

It was the best you had felt in a long while. Everything was a little hazy around the edges, and you had trouble staying perfectly still now. There was a makeshift bar at the dais of the room where everyone took meals, and you had ventured up to get yourself a drink. And one for… Shit. You were not supposed to return empty handed. You just weren’t sure how many not empty handed you should be returning with.

When you stumble, there are strong hands on your hips, steadying you. Strong hands that settled much too low to be casual, but you are much too far gone to have reprimanded him. Or, noticed, or cared that much.

“Careful,” Bodhi said, and it was low in your ear, a little more sensual than it should have been.

But then he stood a respectable distance away from you. And through your alcohol-induced haze, he looked so good. You knew, distantly, that you were still pretty annoyed with him. But his leathers were casually undone at the top, just enough to be a tease. His hair was mussed, black curls that fell in a way that should be messy but instead just drove you insane. Like, this should be against the codex. Just looking at him made you want to leave. Made you want to be back in his room, showing your appreciation, giving him your own apology with your mouth.

“I think Violet’s drunk,” Bodhi said, and his gaze was somewhere beyond you.

You frowned. “We’re all drunk.”

Bodhi cocked his head. “I think she’s a little more drunk.”

You nodded sagely. Fair enough.

“I’m gonna go make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Or, at least, makes it to Xaden okay.”

You nodded again, and he departed with a smile that made you giggle like a damn school girl. He was so aware of the effect he had on you. He just chose not to care.

Or maybe, he was finally respecting the line in the sand you had drawn.

“All alone in a room full of people who could kill you? Where's your body guard?” a voice asked.

You turn, and it’s Asper. The fuck ass flier that beat you up, like, twice now. What the hell—

“What do you want?” You tried for venom, but it came out a bit more slurred than you would have liked. Too round about the edges, too loose.

“I know we settled our differences,” Asper said, and he held up a hand. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

“Then what do you want?” you repeated, and it was a little whiny this time. Fuck. Great.

“You know you’re gorgeous, right?” It was the last thing you had expected to have come out of his stupid mouth.

No way this fucker was hitting on you.

“What?” you snapped. Wisely.

“You’re smart. Clearly good in combat,” Asper said. Like that was an answer. “And you’re beautiful.” He leaned in, like the two of you were sharing a secret. “You could do so much better than the dragon feed around here.”

You were picked by a dragon through.

“He’s flirting,” said a voice. Your dragon. Thank you. As if that wasn’t painfully obvious enough. You go to say that down the bond, but you can’t find the right channel. Shocair grumbled. “I heard it.”

“Whatever you’re trying to do,” you said, “I’m not interested.”

“I think you are,” Asper said. He stepped closer. He put his hand on yours.

“My boy’s gonna get real angry if you keep fucking trying your luck,” you snapped.

“Your boy?” he asked, and he was laughing. The asshole was laughing.

You yanked your hand back, and reveled at the look on his face. Anything to wipe that smug grin off his face. “Yeah. My boy.”

Asper rolled his eyes, and for a moment, you had a vision of punching him. Of clocking him square in the jaw, sending blood flying. Your words were a lot steadier than you felt. As soon as you stood up, the world spun. But then there was a hand at your waist, and everything straightened out. Gods, you knew him by touch alone, knew him even through the haze of alcohol. You could be deprived of every sense you have, and still know his presence by memory. He was ingrained in you.

“You heard her,” Bodhi said, low and dangerous and angry and—fuck, really really hot. “She’s not interested. And she shouldn’t need to threaten you with senior leadership to get you to fuck off, Asper.”

The flier scoffed. “I don’t think she’s talking about her section leader.”

Bodhi stepped around you, and shoved him. Hard. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a section leader or her fucking husband. When a woman says no, she means it.”

Asper held his hands up in surrender, turning a deep shade of red and finally walking away. But not before throwing glare back to Bodhi.

When he turned around to you, finally, your cheeks were hot, your breathing choppy. You stared at him, unsure of what to say. Fuck, you hadn’t realized he would over hear you. Hadn’t realized what kind of effect his words would have on you.

Possessive Bodhi was one thing. When he would leave bruises all over your chest and neck, knowing when you stripped your leathers for sparring, they would be visible. When he keeps his hand in the small of your back for a little too long in formation. When he cleans your wounds and punches fliers and calls you his girl.

But protective Bodhi? You were fighting to stay upright.

He knew you knew how to fight your own fights. You were a decent fighter and could fly circles around rider and flier alike. If someone had an issue, or someone started something, you were good on the follow through. That first fight, or the second when he interfered weren’t about anything other than making it known to everyone else that you were together.

When the end factor was nothing less than a name in front of yours, of his girl tacked onto everything, you were chagrined. When the end factor was keeping you safe, was making sure you had arms to fall into at night? All bets were off.

“Are you okay?” Bodhi asked, a deep furrow finding home between his brow.

You couldn’t catch your breath. Gods above, the way he was looking at you—

“I didn’t know you were there,” you answered.

"I didn't mean to overstep," he said quickly, averting his gaze.

"You didn't," you replied, and suddenly, your eyes were watering. You swallowed around the knot in your throat. "I'm being an asshole."

His head snapped up, and you weren't sure if it was your words or the emotion in your voice that brought the panicked look to the set of his brow, the line of his lips. "No, baby, no—"

"I got overwhelmed," you barrel on. "I got scared, and worried, and I I feel like I'm punishing you for it."

Bodhi shook his head frantically, carefully stepping towards you like you were a scared animal he was trying to approach. "You set a boundary," he said. "I could never fault you for that."

You tried to nod, but instead the tears started to slip out. God, this had to be the alcohol. You were not a crier.

Gingerly, Bodhi's hands were on the sides of your face, thumbs brushing away the escaped tears. "Is this okay?" he whispered.

"All of it is okay," you said meekly. "I was holding onto an idolized version of what I wanted in my head. But people know now, and the world isn't ending."

He laughed, pulling you into him. Your head rested on his chest, right at the perfect angle for him to tuck you under his chin. You wrapped your arms around his waist, and it felt like coming home.

"I never meant to push your boundaries, and I'm so sorry I ever did," he said into your hair. "I know exactly what you're capable of. I don't want you to ever think I'm going to willfully underestimate you."

"I know," you whisper into the fabric of his shirt, and the it occurred to you just how many people were around you. You had just made about a big fuss about the levels of PDA you were willing to accept. And now, here you were. You pulled back. "Can we go back to your room?"

He nodded firmly, eyes raking down your body. "Yes," he said. But he didn't move. "How much have you had to drink?"

You considered for a moment, tilting your head. "Not too much to have not been able to coherently have this conversation, but enough to want to ask you for a kiss right now."

He smirked. Damn infuriating smirk. Gods above, he was beautiful. "A kiss? What, just to tide you over?

"Yeah," you replied, not even bothering to hide how desperate you well and truly were. Your entire body had started to hum.

He leaned in, his head tilted to fit against you. He stopped, his lips a breath away from yours. "In front of all these people?"

"Everyone knows by now. Gossip mill in this place is honestly rather impressive," you said. "Besides, if anyone says anything, I'll just send you after them." You pouted. "I don't even like sparring. I'm no good at it."

He'd leaned in even closer, practically speaking into your mouth. "I can teach you."

"Every time you try to teach me to spar better, I end up pinned underneath you and we end up rushing back to your room. You have absolutely no pure intentions when it comes to sparring. Will you kiss me now?"

He didn't say anything else. Just pressed a smile against your lips. It sent sparks down your spine, and you couldn't help the way you sucked in a breath. It was entirely involuntary, the way your body bowed into him, like you're magnetized in your very core to his.

The kiss was gentle at first, just the press of his lips against yours, but then you opened your mouth, pushing back into him, and his tongue ran along your bottom lip. Your knees nearly gave out.

"Your room," you said, and it was a plea down to its very roots.

Bodhi practically dragged you out of the hall. The trip back to the residential wing was a blur. He kept stopping to kiss you, to run his hands along your waist, up the nape of your neck just to watch you shiver. Finally, and with great effort, the pair of you made it up the corridor and to his room.

He shoved open the door, and snaked an arm around your waist, pressing you into the wall next to it, just inside his room. His lips trailed up your neck, and you nearly whimpered at the contact.

When he pulled away to look at you, his eyes were heavy and lidded, low and dark. So full of adoration and yearning that your chest felt weird. Like it was rearranging so that if you wanted to slot Bodhi's beating heart in next to your own, you could.

"Your boy, huh?" he asked, voice husky.

You smiled, carding your fingers through his hair. "My boy."

Bodhi kicked the door shut behind him, and ascended on you.

#emmmaswrites #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran x you #bodhi durran x y/n #fourth wing #the empyrean

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