#And don’t even get me started on the Sixth!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amyriadofleaves · 3 days

Text

outside it starts to pour — neuvillette | chapter ten

synopsis: in the limelight of fontaine, the prying eyes of its people never truly tears their gaze off the iudex and you, the présidence du conseil d'état, which makes for baseless rumours to fester and echo throughout the theatrics of opera. you and neuvillette are challenged by the reputations the both of you are expected to uphold, and the weighty decision to navigate these intricacies rests upon the discerning judgement of fontaine's archon.

{ prev. } ; { nav } ; { next }

ao3 : wattpad ˚　.˚　　

⌗ pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader ⌗ feat : neuvillette, reader, clorinde, navia, furina ⌗ warnings : n/a ⌗ word count: 6.1k

Amongst those of grandeur and coin, you would assume the elite would make a better run for their money. Yet, judging from the perfervid eyes of many that stand by the wide precinct of the ballroom, you think you might’ve just assumed wrong.

You make note of this as you study them with the eyes of a hawk through your coach window, anticipating the swirl of opinions and envious, lidded stares.

The dress you wear is cinched at the waist, hugged by a pin hidden from the inner folds of cloth — the glimmer of sequined colour reflecting into the periphery of your eye. It was a change made on a whim, for the previous dress was a touch too pink to match the formality of such an occasion. And, to be fair, the pamphlet presented you with a plethora of options, making it exceedingly difficult to settle on the perfect one from the get-go. Your plus one sits to your left in the carriage, a reasonable distance between you both to further up the stifling air.

You do not wish to comment on what he has chosen to wear for the evening, his usual judicial robe replaced with something of the likeness to his wedding garb. So, instead, you pick a route that is sure to stir idle gossip.

“Do you know of Lady Furina’s activities as of late?” you question, eyes trailing to the raindrops that warp down in rapid races on the window.

By the sharp ruffling of his clothes you can almost picture the expression on his face: a panicked, borderline surprised look of bewilderment that this, out of all topics, is the one you chose to spark conversation. “I do not know if I should say.”

More like he does not want to, you snarl.

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that — it’s not like she’s here.”

He does not respond, his silence thickening the air between you. The air is blazing, and you can feel the heat of his presence searing into your skin.

Thanking the Archons that he cannot see your face of nonplus, you scrunch your nose to calm your nerves. Turning abruptly in your seat to face him, you realise your faces are disconcertingly close, but it’s too late; you must feign indifference. The scent of his cologne, intoxicating and undeniable, overwhelms you. “This cannot be true. Surely, you jest.”

He inches his face a little further away from yours, before giving you a tight-lipped smile (well — it’s more of a grimace than anything). His breath brushes against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “I take it you aren’t in favour of her being here?”

Quirking a brow, you shuffle closer, giving him a quizzical look. Such proximity, regarded by those conservatives, would only bring rise to more scandal; and you sure hope it does. The faster the climax, the easier the plateau. You would spare both Neuvillette and yourself more suffering. “If I said no, I bet you’d think me a doppelganger.” Your eyes lock onto his, daring him to challenge your words.

“That I would, Madame.” His voice drops a notch, almost a whisper.The way he says it sends a thrill through you, your heart beating faster in response. You use your own vulnerability as leverage, your cue a shutter of a camera’s flash in the distance. Consider it a sixth sense, but you know someone must certainly have their eyes on a certain couple in a certain carriage.

Amusement sends sparks through your veins, a flash of a smirk gleaming in the cruel light. “It’s mon coeur, Chief Justice. Fanatics would go so far as to read lips, you know.” You trail a finger down his jawbone, letting it leave the second it reaches slightly below his mouth. It comes as second nature — the act of skin against skin. You don’t feel the spark others fooled by their own blindness; to touch does not mean to love. How will one know what a novel is based on its cover alone?

Judging from how many taps against your hand it takes, you realise it is almost as if he struggles to reach for your hand to pull it away. As his hand brushes to meet your own hand at his cheek, his fingers tremble. “Please, mon coeur, now is not the time,” he mutters, his voice strained and low. He clears his throat afterward, but the sound is thick with what you think is the effort of maintaining composure.

You tear your hand from his, reaching to fix his hair now — the curl that parts his locks undone by the way you rake your hands through them.

“Please,” he repeats, his voice softer, almost pleading now, as if he’s begging not just you but himself to stay strong. His thumb brushes gently across your knuckles, a tender gesture that belies his words, and you can feel the turmoil radiating from him.

He draws in a sharp, cutting breath — but given the closeness, he might as well just drink in your perfume.

It takes every ounce of willpower for him to finally, reluctantly, begin to pull his hand away, and even then, it’s with a slowness that even you find odd (what do you not find odd about this man by this point?).

You make your distaste known to him with an annoyed roll of your eyes (you note that it is only the Chief Justice’s face in view, so the guise you need to uphold lies only in the most physical of actions). “Don’t tell me you are affected by our PR.” Roughly, you shove his hand back to where it originally was, your satisfied look mirroring his dishevelled one.

“If you are going to do so, at least let me know when so I am not caught off guard by… such advances.”

“Then tell Lady Furina to change the conditions in the notebook.”

“I do not know of such a notebook.”

“Odd how you easily forget such a possession that hangs in your breast pocket all the time.”

A puzzled execution of searching for the notepad deems itself fruitless when he swipes past his breast pocket to find it empty. “How…?”

You reach into your pocket (yes, your dress has pockets!) and tauntingly hold the bundle of paper up for him to see. “Judging how you failed to enact any of them on me, I thought I'd rather do it myself — for the benefit of my own accomplishment and gain of course.” Before he can wipe off the smugness in your character, you make another diminishing comment to a habit of his that you’ve caught on. “Not like I could read half of the content — the ink is smudged from the rain you oh, so love to stand in.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

Dread overwhelms you when you realise the coach is slowing down and the murmurs of small talk are growing louder by the minute. “Is a woman pleasuring herself so taboo?”

His head shakes in the bewilderment of your comment and he shifts in his seat — making no note to move away from you, glued by… fear? Endearment? Intrigue? “That… is not what I said. But, may I be nosy as to pry, why follow them if those rules were not meant to be adhered to by you?’

“To put it simply — I like the thrill,” you take a look at his watch, reaching for his wrist to angle it toward the moonlight so it catches the hands of the clock. “Why do you think we’re ‘fashionably late’?”

“And fix your hair. You look unkempt. Before you argue with me — I know it was of my own doing.”

You drop his hand before the coach comes to a stop. Suddenly it is almost as if the flashes of the cameras sputter erratically at your arrival — but you know it is not for you – for the most part. Waiting patiently for Neuvillette to open your door, your eyes hook onto him walking across to your side through the rear window, adjusting the minimal space between his skin and collar, visibly unkempt. Oh, the ideas that might stem from that one moment alone! You just knowhe’s never going to hear the end of it with Furina.

The second his back turns from the audience, the facade he puts on oddly stays the same, the only change being the lighting and nothing else. He swiftly opens the door, and the cameramen rage on even more — even going so far as to request to turn their way! It almost sparks a smug look on your face to be captured in the photos, and you don’t know if you are afraid or simply exhilarated (you tell yourself the answer is the latter).

He offers a hand, and you take it with all the grace you can muster — making a statement to use your own weight to pull yourself up instead of the sanctuary of his palm.

The movement of your hands are borderline rehearsed, if not choreographed, by the way one slyly snakes around your back as a tether amongst the onslaught of photos being taken of you —the other around the cave of Neuvillette’s inner elbow and you almost quip on how it’s a lot less uncomfortable than the first time you and him made your appearances live to the whole of Teyvat.

You restrict yourself from running your mouth on the carpet, keeping it shut with the nagging thought of ‘exuding an air that betrays nothing but charm and propriety’; it is another trick in Furina’s book, but as much as she is irritating, she also is in cunning, and for this you must (begrudgingly) give her your praise.

A man at the very foot of the ballroom almost stammers on his words upon shifting his glance from you to the Chief Justice, to which you almost scoff. He’s even got men at his feet! It’s his hair, isn’t it? His eyes flit aimlessly on the guest list, ticking off Neuvillette’s name first before reiterating the names of both of you.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, and Madame Lavigne?” The notion of affirmation falls on deaf ears as a frown comes to make its way on your face instead of a nod.

“Mon cherie, are you alright?”

‘What?”

“He has just mentioned your name.”

What a slip up. You hadn’t heard anyone call you by your last name in ages, let alone with your new one (mostly due to your insistence, but it does not hold any significance). You do admit, it still sounds unfamiliar even to your own ears.

“Yes, that should be me,” you say, springing back into your character. The word should makes it sound more suspicious than it ought to be, but you hope the young man does not latch onto any odd intonations of your phrase.

The man extends a hand that points into the ballroom, muttering a quiet ‘should be right down the hall’ before stepping aside and opening the grand door.

When you hear it shut, you see the cameras dim in frequency, shying away as other later guests of lesser significance pass through. However, the noise doesn’t seem to quell from the endless tidings of conversation, the only difference being that it only spills from the end of the hall and not the carpet you just so happened to have walked through right before this.

The Chief Justice doesn’t seem too thrilled about all of this — justifiable in the sense of the difference of his workplace to that of insufferable people who know nothing of what to do with their wealth except spend on unnecessary luxuries: like gold plated toilet paper. You scrunch your nose in distaste.

“I do hope you know how to dance,” you tell him, more a question than anything. But you are too tired for questions, so it comes off as a statement instead of the intended quizzical tone.

Neuvillette tilts his head, hair rustling against the fabric of his clothes. “I hope so too.”

Okay… not the response you expected to hear, but you guess you could do with a few steps on the tips of your toes even if it means being in excruciating agony for just a few days.

It takes everything in you to give Neuvillette the green light in opening the doorway that leads to the actual ballroom this time, but you realise with grave regret that you are still in the midst of processing what’s to come as he pushes the door open.

Chandeliers drape from the ceiling, bedazzling the marble floors with opulent patterns cast from the crystals that appear to drip down toward the floor, strung by invisible strings hooked onto metal pegs. Prisms lined with colour trace the fine contours of rustling lace and prim ties.

The crowd doesn’t seem to notice your grand appearance, until someone in the crowd gasps and everyone is stunned into a still silence. With such a noise comes a domino effect of other gasps, each differing in pitch. Awfully dramatic, even to someone of your tolerance. Guess one of Furina’s tactics worked, but at what cost? Now everyone’s looking at you, and Neuvillette cannot do anything —

“Please, do not be so tense. Momentous this event is indeed, but it is but another occasion,” He reassures, and all of a sudden the way his voice ricochets off the walls sounds radically similar to the baritone his voice bears in the Opera Epiclese.

Except it wasn't any formal occasion. Neuvillette's frequency of appearances outside the courtroom were and are even more than obscure now — obscure enough to consider it akin to that of a sighting of a dodo bird.

Everyone eyes him sceptically, slowly returning to their conversations. But you do not miss the way their choice of words are more contained — docile, if you will. You notice their vocabulary changes — the word ball turns into thé dansant, and commenting on rumours and gossip shifts into romance and novels.

You notice the way women with no visible ring on any of their fingers eye you with envy, seethingly jealous at your ‘success’. But is it really success if it has only brought you misery?

After standing in observance for what you think is more than a while, someone calls your name.

You whip around, losing the grip of your arm interlocked with Neuvillette’s to divert your attention — and you lose no time in grinning. “What a pleasure it is seeing you here, Clorinde,” you start, facing the blonde beside her. “And you as well, Navia. It has certainly been a while since I’ve been given the opportunity to chat with you.” “Ah, yes indeed. I’d really like for us to chat over a cup of tea someday.”

She really did live up to her reputation; from the manner in which she carries herself, to the very stitch that binds her lace hem.

You turn your attention to Clorinde, squeezing in time for small talk. “ I suppose your schedule’s freer than usual?”

A server with a tray of champagne glasses comes passing through the throng and offers the delicacies laid out for you on a tray. You accept a glass and some canapés without a second thought — though Clorinde denies the alcohol with a polite shake of her head. “I would not say ‘free’. This place is a breeding ground for thieves — so consider it another day on the job.”

Navia tests one of the canapés by biting a sliver off the side before coughing into her hand. Clorinde shoots her a chastising look. “What?”

The blonde attempts to whisper, and though it doesn’t prove to be inefficient, it did help quench your desire of knowing what she is to say to Clorinde. “There’s steak tartare in this. Do you… want it?”

“How many times have I told you that you’re not going to like it just because you’ve tasted it more?” Out of all the things in the world, the Champion Duelist of Fontaine makes it imperative to scold her close friend about raw beef.

Your husband wraps a hand around your waist in an act of pulling you closer, and you can only mask your disdain with a wry look and a brief check of your dress to confirm that the alcohol hadn’t spilled in the process. “What are you doing?” you seethe, gritting your teeth.

He responds with a looser wrap around your hip, soundlessly submitting to your reprimand.

Clorinde and Navia seem surprised at such an uncharacteristic display of affection from the Iudex of Fontaine, the retracting of her head seemingly an obvious tell. “Much expected from the Champion Duelist herself. I implore you to take a break every so often. I have observed that many aren’t usually able to bear the weight for as long as they’d wish.”

She pats him on the shoulder. “Take your own advice, boss.”

Neuvillette’s chuckle drips with amusement.“That’s certainly a new title. I will take it into consideration.”

She nods her head, taking her hat off to engage in a cordial bow. Before she can lose herself amongst the crowd with the head of the Spina di Rosula, you reach for her wrist and deftly place a tea bag in her pocket. “We need to talk. And if that fails, I will send you a letter. Whatever it is — take a look at what I have given you.”

Clorinde hesitates, body halting at the command of your hand. “Alright then. We shall rendezvous near the entrance.”

Before you can give any semblance of a response, she turns, making sure to pat at her pocket as she does so. It does not save you from human interaction, however, for another voice sounds from your right: playful and distinguishable.

“If it isn’t the main couple of tonight’s event! I’ve talked to the host — myself — and you two are meant to take the dance floor once the violin commences.”

What a way to start a conversation.

There was certainly no need for pleasantries, but a simple ‘hello’ or a ‘how are you?’ would have sufficed, wouldn’t it? You make the pragmatic decision to not let your personal prejudice of Furina get in your way of complying to her rules, because this part was mainly on you — agreed to by your own pen.

Waiting for Neuvillette to respond on your behalf, you find yourself already exhausted with the mass of people that eye you down, almost draining you of a conversation though their gazes alone; you tell yourself it doesn’t bother you, but the way your heart beat picks up against your ribcage makes you think meat is eating away at bone.

“Let me reiterate: you want us to dance as the distinguished couple?” His brows raise quizzically, his hold on your side slipping ever so slightly.

Another server comes to approach, so you gulp down the whole glass of champagne (wincing in the process) before placing it on the tray as the move on by.

Lady Furina chuckles so loudly even a snort would be less humiliating in comparison. “Now they say there’s no such thing as ‘bad questions’, but…”

You roll your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be finding away to deviate the prophecy? Not attend some ball?”

“I could say the same for you, Présidence du Conseil d'État.”

“Well i very much would be helping if you hadn’t gotten me into this stupid—”

She places a finger on your lips. “Hey! Keep it down!”

A maintained, high-pitched note of a violin silences the murmurs of the people — and this includes Lady Furina’s never ending tangents you know would never stop if not for the ensemble.

You instinctively put on a brave front as the crowd disperses into a circle, leaving a space in the middle for the two of you — and as you both make your way through the crowd, they seem to part as if by a spell.

“May I have this dance?” The Chief Justice inquires, his touch ghosting over yours before you agree in the silence. His hand easily between the grooves of your fingers, softly placing his lips to your knuckles with a delicacy you can only consider to be a totally calculated act. His hold on your hand lingers on your fingertips, his touch fraying as he moves to initiate a bow.

You mirror this action, pinching the sides of your dress and bringing them up as you curtsy. Raising your head, you meet his gaze, his look equally just as weary as yours. For a split moment, it takes you back to when you stood in the shadows, fingers fidgeting behind your back hoping that your father would only taste the rust of prison for the rest of his life. But he cannot — must not look like this. This is not the look of a revered judge; it is one of a lovesick boy. And you almost throw up.

Another cue of a violin now spurs the string quartet into motion: a soft and slow minuet conjured through their very fingertips. His hold on your hand smoothly slips to interlock with your own, and he brings the other to your waist. He pulls you toward him, and it is almost peculiarly simple — the way you fall into step, blown in the wisp of music; of dull cellos and vibrant violins.

A spotlight shines from above. It is the only source of light — another entity that mimics your movements, illuminating every one of your flaws, every single imperfection. Neuvillette releases hold of your waist to guide you through a spin, a hand behind his back before he tip you backward into his arms at an angle so discreet that a mere word from you would go unnoticed.

“Tell me, mon mari, would you trade this for another case in court?” you murmur, warmth ghosting against the nape of his neck. You lose yourself of his hold, hand still entwined with his as you leave the warmth of his body and execute this with a twirl outward, your blue gown fanning out as if it were a bouquet of periwinkle.

Your grip on his hand shifts from a knot to a palm to palm, and you find yourself in orbit of his arm, inching ever closer in expectation of a response; and your lids flutter, a brief opening to the window of your soul. You lower your sight elsewhere — to the lapels of his robe, to the platinum strands of hair that gleam like pearls in the light; if it meant that you would not remain subject to his scrutiny any further. Admittedly, you were afraid. Afraid that, in a moment where light shines down on you like the watchful gaze of the omniscient, he would see through your cracks, through your guise.

He does not know the woman before him is a fraud.

“I’m afraid I misunderstand your inquiry,” he whispers, before masking his puzzled look for a fond, albeit manufactured look of love.

You return the look with reproach, and your eyes weigh lidded against the burden of all the people waiting for their spot on the floor; watchful, analytical eyes of the assembly stopping you from doing anything rash. That is, until Neuvillette initiates a change in a step; the steady pressure of Neuvillette’s hand on the small of your back an anchor, as much as you loath to admit it.

“Save your words then,” you say breathlessly, taking both of his hands as you both circle the perimeter of the dance floor.

Before he can reply, the music crescendos, and he is now thrown into the momentum of string and melody. The world around you is a blur of motion and bliss as he leads you into a move.

The bass of cello and harmonising of two violins swell, tightening the invisible string bound by convenience, drawing yourself closer to the man you never thought you would have the displeasure of waltzing with. Each sway, each glide across the floor, is executed with more attunement to his every move, your own matching his.

After another twirl, his hands reach for the curves on either side of your waist, lifting you up in his grasp. Weightlessness envelops you; he spins you around, a stunned giggle slipping through your lips — but it is drowned by the ruffle of your skirt, its hem barely tracing the ground. Gentle flames of candlelight reflect against the grooves of his sleeve.

This, expectedly, warrants many gasps of awe from the audience, their admiration a confusion of fabrication and authenticity. But it still sweeps across the ballroom nonetheless. You are acutely aware of their intense regard toward yourself as the Chief Justice’s wife more than the actual role you hold in Fontaine’s bureaucracy, and yet it is his eyes you cannot look away from. Neuvillette’s hand holds firm against the small of your back, an unnecessary touch you are unsure of appreciating or condemning.

As you straighten, you find yourself clinging onto Neuvillette’s arms in an act of desperation to keep yourself steady. You must say that this definitely took the breath out of you, spins and all.

Every matter outside this dance seemed to vanish at another touch of the hand, another move that required his hold, one that brought your faces into almost meeting, more than once.

The melody ebbs, the final notes a cue for you to slow. Neuvillette brings you into a dip, hand steadying you as you lean into his arms. An excuse for diverting yourself from his stare did not come in your favour, for the distance between your lips and his is so close that you can feel his warmth radiating into your own skin, warm and inviting.

You shut your eyes. Benevolent and inviting? Just what am I thinking? Cut it out, you fool.

The two of you are suspended in the strain of the final note, puppeting the way your body slumps into his touch — an unfamiliar one, but one you know is able to fool the crowd. The audience watches with bated breath, the sound of breathing washed away in the sea of adrenaline. A gloved hand trails up your arm to the trace of your jaw — and you hold in regard the demurral of your husband's touch. He leans in closer, close enough to whisper into your ear. But nothing could’ve prepared you for his words.

“May I kiss you?”

Your eyes round into spheres, the strands of hair masking your admittedly unbecoming reaction. It truly feels as though this request has brought the world to a stop, the pounding of your heart slowing like a defeated bird in its cage. This is all a ruse, you tell yourself; but you cannot help but sear the sincerity indelibly into your mind.

Furrowing your brows, you cannot help but cant your head to the side. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” you hiss. You pull back slightly to catch your breath — your face almost an inch away from his, eyes narrowing in quest of searching his expression for a hint of jest. Neuvillette’s eyes now darken in the shadows, luminescent opal eyes now a stormy, turbulent hue; anyone would have caught the bona fides of the integral pillar of the law.

“It is for the crowd; for Lady Furina,” his voice soft, almost defeated. “They expect it.”

The rational part begrudgingly knows he is right, that his offer he places on the table is but a strategy to fool them any further: a performance.

And yet, the thought of his lips on yours stirs a mellow tremor of unwelcome anticipation that you hastily suppress. “Well then,” you snap, your voice cold. “But do not think for a moment that I will enjoy this.”

He dips his head in compliance, the curve of his lips an infuriatingly charming trait that has all the women in the crowd placing on the brink of fainting. “I wouldn’t dream of it, ma femme,” he replies, his lie deceptively light.

As he leans in, a tumultuous confusion of dread and something far more dangerous buzzes through your veins, sending every bone in your body to bend into his will. Closing your eyes, you steel yourself for the inevitable; and erratic thoughts sporadically burst like glass, invading your mind. How can something like this, illogical and meaningless, manage to fool the crowd? You know it is a question with a definite answer; so you question yourself again: why ask? Butyou aren’t given any time before your train of thought crashes under his fingers.

He brings his hand to your chin, drawing you closer with an allure so strong you are nearly convinced his touch is divination. Collective gasps of onlookers, each a whisper of opinions you simply have not the time nor inclination to discern warps into pools that hum into one clump of futility as his lips brush against yours.

It is not wrong to say that this isn’t your first, and yet, you almost feel like it is. His lips against yours is gentle, almost chaste, but it ignited a stubborn fire you are loath to acknowledge. The strength of his hand at your waist firms, melting into a tender brush against the small of your back — and for a moment, you forget that this is all a farce.

You roughly push him away with your two hands against his chest, eyes staring daggers through the windows of his soul. You breath comes in shallow gasps, now a deafened noise amongst the cacophony of applause of the crowd, intoxicated in the fleeting thrill and spectacle of an act they do not wish to recognise as a lie.

Nothing registers in your daze. You blink, fighting to regain your composure, because the lingering ghost of his lips on yours makes it unable to think straight.

Get it together! This is PR. Actors do this all the time.

“That was—” he mutters.

You move stiffly, forcing yourself to step back and put some distance between you. “Don’t read too much into it,” you say, your voice harsher than you intend. “It was just for show.”

“Of course,” he agrees, but there is a hint of something in his gaze, something that makes you wonder if perhaps, for a moment, it wasn’t all an act. You push the thought aside, unwilling to delve into the complexities of your feelings, and focus instead on the task at hand — maintaining the illusion, no matter the cost to your own heart.

Neuvillette holds out his arms for you to retire from the floor, leaving the other couples to spill into the space of the ballroom. But amidst the glittering crowd, you spot a figure, the well-worn wrinkles of his face an uncanny reflection of your own. This cannot be. You were sure your father had left, presumably perished in the process — but what of this? Why is he here, revealing himself to a crowd that is sure to recognise him and his reputation?

A sudden, fierce constriction of your corset tightens your lungs like a vice around your ribs. Gasping, you claw at your throat for air, the once grandiose patterns of the stone walls caving into you: harsh and oppressive. Even the Chief Justice, the one to restore order, does not succeed in reaching you; and thus the attempt blurs into the fray, disregarded in the heat of your panic.

You anchor yourself in the depths of Neuvillette’s worried look, pulling yourself out of the merciless current of water. “I need some air,” you croak, hiding your face so the couples that stand waiting on the floor don’t receive but a glimpse of this stupid, nonsensical breakdown.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” he asks, making space between you both.

“No. Please.” You practically beg, squeezing the wrists of his arm, before you flee.

_____

Neuvillette watches you intently as you blend into the mass of people, and they part instinctively, leaving a clear path for you to tread; but, the Chief Justice is no fool to trickery. As discreet as one can make themselves, he is one man that one should not — can not deceive. As you dance through the sea of bodies, a man walks against the current, trailing you with terrifyingly calculated precision. A metallic glisten betrays the sharp blade hidden from under his blazer.

Through the crowd, he meets Clorinde’s eyes; to which he concludes that she, too, is searching for where you went. She gestures with her eyes an inquiring look, to which Neuvillette responds with a quick glance toward the entrance. A mild nod is what he gets in response, and she rushes the other way, presumably through another door.

The music strums once again, and so he takes an opportunity to rush from behind, his stride silent and quiet. For the man, however, it is almost as if he wants to make his presence known, from the set of his shoulders, to the tap of his feet against marble.

Neuvillette’s eyes narrow, focus not once slipping. He waits, watching as the man slips through the front entrance. Once he is out of view, Neuvillette follows, stride confident with urgency.

The man makes a sharp turn, reaching through the front of his blazer to reach for what Neuvillette presumes to be his blade.

_____

You pace through the garden, letting the trail lead you to the balcony that overlooked the Palais Mermonia. Clamping your eyes shut, you allow the hold your hands have on the railing to relax; a sharp, shaky exhale spills from your lips, hot tears threatening to pool at the base of your eyes.

The thought of your father’s crazed eyes sends you into a spiral, seeing a memory of him the more your eyes remain closed.

A rustle of leaves.

Footsteps.

There is only one person who would've followed you here. “I’ve already told you leave me alone, Chief Justice.”

“Chief Justice? You mistake me for someone else, birdie.”

Birdie. Your eyes shoot open, immediately diverted by the disturbance. Your hands slip from the railing, turning so that instead your back is pressed against it — the thrill of anticipation buried under the solemn rush of sentiment.

This man was, in fact, not your lawful husband.

Oh, wow, you are certainly graced with the inexplicable miracle of luck!

“Why aren’t you replying, hm? Too ashamed of what you did to me to speak?”

Everything in your power to calm yourself down does not, matter-of-factly, calm you down. The man’s voice — his voice — is too cutting, too violent. The world spins, a minute sense of rationality bringing you to palm your thigh, feeling for the sharp edge of the dagger you have shoved in a garter. Clorinde surely has some sixth sense, because —

“(Name)?”

Your chest practically heaves as you let out a sigh of relief, the chilling autumn night bringing your breath to leave as cold white plume. The exhale is prolonged — albeit very tremulous, and it’s almost as if you can hear your heart beating in your head with more clarity than ever.

“Clorinde?”

“I saw you leave the ballroom, so I figured this is where you'd be —”

Taking one blazing glare at the man that hides in a bush, you stagger toward her as if poisoned. You take refuge in her arms for a short, stunned moment; Clorinde’s hands remain suspended, frozen.

“Listen to me,” you whisper, voice wavering. “We must leave this instant.”

She grips onto your shoulders to pull you away. Her hand immediately moves to her hip, the brush against metal light, but sharp.“Is there something? Someone following?”

“Save your questions.” you retort.

It is obvious that she notices the glassy gleam of your eyes in the moonlight — but she is smart enough not to pry. In the spur of the moment, she glances at Neuvillette, and nods her head. “Alright, just stay close to me.” You cast another look into the darkness, only to find it empty, uninhabited, and ominously still.

a/n: can y'all guess what neuvillette did to the guy🤭🤭🤭

taglist : @sek0ya, @souxiesun, @11111112222222sblog

#neuvillette #genshin impact #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette fanfic #marriage of convenience #neuvillettexreader #arranged marriage #genshinblr #clorinde genshin #navia genshin

27 notes · View notes

field-s-of-flowers · 9 months

Text

Honestly I think Tamsyn Muir made Harrow Nova specifically to cater to my all-consuming love of roleswap aus

#soph’s posts #I know it’s just Harrow’s imagination #But I’m working it out in my brain and I’ve rarely ever been happier #I’m just thinking about all the pairs swapped #The fourth and fifth houses have me going particularly insane as they always do #Also the Seventh! Loveday impersonating cav!Dulcie and mourning Cytherea #AND wheeling around necro!Pro’s corpse like “my necromancer’s not feeling great today”#Also cav Dulcie in general!!!#And cav Abigail. I just love Abigail so damn much #And don’t even get me started on the Sixth!!!#Harrow nova au #The locked tomb #soph reads the locked tomb #I will elaborate on this #After I eat dinner

40 notes · View notes

k4nd1-c0rn · 19 days

Text

the way hen says it’s about damn time when she finds out about buck and tommy

#i had a feeling she always knew #it’s that queer sixth sense we can just tell #also don’t even get me started on that scene as a whole i will never shut up about it #that was the most buck way he could come out tbh #911 abc #tevan #kinley #bucktommy

45 notes · View notes

alienssstufff · 2 months

Text

smth smth builder’s signature styles whatever - I love how instantly recognisable it is to be in a Bdubs build whilst not be jarring. This shot of both sides of the river is a wonderful example

The custom trees. Are so freaking tall in compare to the default, yet their presence doesn’t feel obstructive. You don’t feel ‘blocked out’ from the environment as the deliberate thinness of the trunks, what height the leaves on the pine start at give just enough breathe room to: look through, catch glimpses of the other side, and be invited to Go Through It.

He says it in his commentary, a lot of what he builds is heavily grounded in realism. This area is not meant to be the centre of attention, the purpose of these trees is to Immerse and act as transition as one leaves the rest of the minecraft world and into Bdubs’ ‘more natural’ one — where the trees are grey, and the water is clear.

I’m so fucking serious this random cut of the river is my favourite part in the entirety of this forest, I like how still it looks, I like how clear it is yet how dark it is not only to imply depth but that illusion that the river is reflecting its surroundings how you can even say the river is a dark green! Being able to come to these interpretations for something so simple to me perfectly captures what he wants in builds like these.

And it STILL doesnt feel out of place because he does something like THIS. The way the stream gets progressively more and more opaque until it meets the actual main river is genius work. It gives the impression the water in Bdubs’ place is fresh in compare to the saltier, deeper water of the larger river it transitions.

😭And a final thing, I know the white glass he used was done to suggest rushing water but I swearrr he has like a sixth sense in how to place them perfectly. (Forgive my shitty camera) From this distance if you squint you can see these dark and lighter shadows made by the trees, and by putting where the white spots are placed now highlights these small rays of sunshine poking through the leaves and shining on the river and I think that’s unintentionally the coolest thing.

whhwwh idk how to end this, I just really liked this new video for reasons above and wanted to tell the world why.

BdoubleO100 you never miss. Forever and ever.

Here’s a shaky picture of Etho on his horse if you’ve made it this far :]

#stufff rambles #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #hermitcraft #Hermitcraft season 10 #yappin about builds like people do to a blorbo analysis we out here

4K notes · View notes

screampied · 4 months

Text

POKERFACE! — ☆ GOJO SATORU.

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. gojo gets nominated for his fifth grammy. you being his plus one, he takes you—yet right before he’s prompted to go on stage, instead of getting an award though, he gets a…boner.

wc. 4.9k

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, semi-public, degradation, praise, hair pulling, oral, unprotected sex, overstim, implied multiple orgasms, spit, creampie, fingering.

an. stream 'it guy' on all platforms for a cheap price of $69.69!

“and the award for best solo pop artist goes to...” there’s a long abrupt pause as the female emcee gently peels open the red-encased envelope. the audience grew quiet. you could hear a pen drop at the sudden anticipation for who would win. “satoru gojo—toru!”

gojo lets off a dramatic gasp. the cameras pan towards him and he tugs on his tie. everyone starts to clap inside the filled up arena before he turns towards you. holding out his hand for you to take, he mutters out a, “oh please. i’m not going up there alone, c’mon girl.”

you didn’t expect for him to drag you along too, the press were already speculating things about you two—yet you still placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm as he flashed you his cheesy popstar signature grin before ushering up towards the stage with him. bright lights throughout the scenery nearly blinded you as the both of you walked. amid the background played one of gojo’s most recent blown-up pop songs that topped the charts for seven consecutive weeks straight.

“heh. wow. uh. this is actually crazy,” gojo starts off, taking the small awkward, cupping it in his hand before leaning into the mic. “fifth award of the night. for once, i’m speechless,” and then he pauses to snicker. “….that’s a joke. you guys are supposed to laugh...”

the crowd goes into sudden forced laughter and you sigh, meeting eye contact with various a-list celebrities. you tug on your dress before feeling gojo bring you close to him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“eh. but anyway, i just wanna start by thanking her,” and there’s sudden confusion. you glance at gojo before he grins straight at the audience, dimples poking near the corners of his mouth. “yeah. her pussy. it’s gotten me this far, and most celebs thank their fans or parents, but why not thank the most important thing?”

that….was hours later.

everyone was buzzing about how gojo ended up getting canceled for his famous, ‘thankful for my assistant’s pussy! speech.’

it made various article headlines—yet as of now, hours before that scene happened, you were currently in his dressing room with gojo for reasons you don’t even remember why.

“this is fucked,” he whines, pacing back and forth. you sat in one of his chairs. watching the pop star have his sixth outburst of the night, here he is complaining why he can’t go on stage. this was a regular thing, and by now you started to become used to it. “…i’m supposed to be on in five but i— i can’t do that.”

“any reason why?” you muttered, tracing a nail over your thighs, brushing against the fabric that ran against your skirt. “is it your stage freight again, ‘toru?”

“pft. that’s not funny,” he glares. “and no, it’s something more serious.” he trods his feet towards you, a few white strands racing down the sides of his eyes — it’s a cute unintentional look that makes you smile at him, seeing him up close. in this cute panicky state, gojo’s bright blue eyes remained on yours before his lip quivered. “it’s embarrassing.”

right before you were gonna speak, you glanced down at your phone, the text from one of gojo’s managers signaling how he should be preparing to be walk on stage in a few more minutes.

“uh huh,” you nodded, eyes fully darted away at your phone and not him. he frowns, glancing down himself before bringing two hands towards your shoulders for you to fully look at him.

the popstar had a long designer suit on, eye-catching in the least with various rhinestones pressed against specific spots. you picked out his outfits, a thing he doesn’t mind you doing.

“look at meee…it’s serious,” he pants, and you stare into his eyes, and it takes you a moment before you finally realize. “is this…what you call a uh.. wardrobe malfunction?”

“oh,” you mumble, not realizing how quickly your pupils averted toward his bulge. you prayed gojo didn’t notice, mainly due to how embarrassing not to mention unprofessional that’d be…staring between your clients’ legs.

“oh….” you repeated, watching gojo’s face flush entirely. a smile tugs against your lips before you furrow your brows, his hands still gripped onto your shoulders before you query, “satoru, do you have a boner?”

“ . . . ”

you giggle at his silence, and he only gets more abashed and flushed. your eyes continue to linger on the pop star. he removes his hands away from your shoulders as you stand up to face him. “is that why you can’t go on stage? because you’re hard?”

“don’t…say it like that,” he grumbles, a cute pout curling against his lips. you watch as he digs his hands into the holes of his pockets, having a staring contest with the marble ground before clearing his throat. “and yeah. it’s your fault so you need to help me uh.. you know.”

“how’s it my fault?” you play along, tilting your head.

“look at your outfit,” he whines, and he says that purposely just to take a second to check you out, which he does.

gojo’s eyes roam towards your body, the pretty long dress you wore — the color matched gojo’s outfit, it wasn’t anything too revealing but it was enough to make gojo suck his teeth. the structure of it made your curves, the physique of you entirely show off, and it made him bite his lip in such want.

“ever since you came in here, i felt all hot and um.. hard. just wanted an excuse to rip your dress off instead of attending this stupid awards ceremony.”

“well,” you whisper, bringing two fingers towards his tie, giving it a kittenish pull. gojo looks down at you, and he’s so flustered you could visibly see. the way the tips of his ears perked, he was panting a bit from feeling so tense. “what are you waiting for then?”

“you’re a really bad assistant,” he murmurs, his hands starting to trail up your waist, quickly unraveling the ribbon look that went against your back. “and a really fuckin’ bad influence.”

he snickers at the concluding part of his words before you feel the popstar’s warm lips press against yours.

you kiss back, and a finger of his lifts your chin upward. he tasted sweet, honeyed even.

gojo’s hands gingerly meander all over every inch of your body, he presses into you. so close to where you feel his bulge prod and prod. he moans into your mouth, strands of his hair tickling against your forehead. you run your tongue over his, tasting the sweet tang of what appears to be wine.

he was so needy, you could tell practically from his breathing patterns. a small grunt leaves his mouth once he leads you towards the sofa. gojo’s hands roamed all over your body, his touch made you flutter in response.

gojo strokes a tress of your hair before a smile tugs against the corners of your mouth. you ran a hand down to give his slacks a playful pull, his boxers were just about hanging out.

he moans into your mouth, and it’s shaky. your touch made both tips of his ears grow to a feverish hot. as your nose brushed against his, he then suddenly pulled away — gasping for air before his lip trembles.

“f-fuck, i can’t wait anymore. i need to feel your mouth,” he pants, bringing a hand to his face to cover his embarrassed state. the pop star was so impatient, that his body language showed entirely. he was the embodiment of the saying, ‘is it hot in here or is it just me?’

you giving him that cute doe-eyed expression only made things ten times worse — the bulge forever growing and throbbing achingly in his pants made his bite down on his lip.

“don’t be so loud,” you tease, and he’s still recollecting short breaths as he watches you make your way down on your knees.

gojo’s eyes linger down toward you, and he is already envisioning your mouth. just sinking straight down on his length, drool running down your chin — he couldn’t lie to himself.. ever since you started working with him, he’s had quite the imagination.

the thought of his pretty little assistant with her mouth all full, he’s gone down on you at least twice, but the image of you returning the favor made his mouth water.

“princess, i don’t wanna…rush you or anything, but make it quick, yeah? i do have a g-grammy to win after all,”

he swallows, watching you slowly start to unzip the fly of his pants. your stare did things to him that he simply couldn’t formulate into words. gojo brings a hand on top of your head, stroking a few strands of your hair before breathing. “if i’m late, ‘m gonna blame it on you.”

“you’ve gotta be the most unprofessional person i’ve ever worked with,” you roll your eyes with a sass.

a cold sweat runs down gojo’s neck once he watches you tug his black slacks down, leaning in to kiss the white print of his boxers.

once your eyes met with his bulge, you giggle, gradually lolling out your tongue to lick the hardness that was tucked underneath the fabric.

“f-fuckkk,” he breathes, keeping his eyes on you for the entire duration. he was so pent up, gojo’s boner made you lick your lips, purely from the intact sight.

as you traced your tongue all over his bulge, tasting the blandness of the fabric—you part your lips, slowly starting to peel his boxers off with your teeth. “dirty girl. you’ve been thinkin’ about this too, huh?”

you shake your head and he lets off a pouty frown. “don’t lie.”

a smile spreads amongst your lips again, and once his boxers were finally peeled off with the help of your teeth. you meet eye contact with gojo’s lengthy cock. just a quick second glance and your tongue was already salivating from pure zeal.

gojo was long, of course, he was well-trimmed.

yet, he had a few specks of white hair scattered near his base — it was sexy. your eyes stared at his body, the way his undershirt from his tuxedo was slightly lifted.

you could see his abs clenching, his happy trail that ran down…

“l-look what you did to me” he huffs, and his tone sounded entirely whiny. he had somewhat of an upward curve. you lean in to give the soft plump tip of his a chaste kiss.

a few remnants of pre-cum smother against your spit-glossed lips. gojo’s jaw tightens, watching you roll out your tongue unsteadily, swiping it against his frenulum. “just…just like that.”

a sharp breath gets caught in his throat, you looked so pretty like this — slowly lapping your tongue against his smooth cockhead.

his pre-cum barely had a taste to it. despite that, you’d still describe it as purely sweet. lashes of yours fluttered as you continued to taste him before starting to leisurely sink your mouth lower and lower.

“…damn,” he grunts, feeling his own eyes start to flutter. your mouth was so warm, it made gojo tighten the grip he had on your hair just a bit more. he tickled against your scalp with a ring that was thrown on his finger.

the pop star quickly started to grow obsessed with that tongue of yours, the way you playfully swirled it around the inner part of his tip—you knew the exact spots to reach. he shivers, feeling both temples of his cheeks burn with such intensity.

“keep lookin’ at me,” he murmurs sheepishly, raising a thumb against the side of your face to stroke your cheek lovingly. “stare at me while you’re gettin’ a good m-meal, yeah.”

your eyes flicker towards gojo, and he says that yet could barely hold eye contact. your gaze made him so flustered that he looks away. you simper, further inches going down your right throat.

he felt you roll your lips around your teeth, strands of spit already starting to seep near the corners of your mouth. gojo’s just groaning and whining in the distance—you were so good with your technique, it had him at a loss of words.

“spit on it,” he suddenly says, pulling your head up to look at him again. “i— i wanna make you a messy assistant for me. can you do that?”

you nod, skimming your tongue around his tip before breaking away, gathering a reasonable wad before spitting on his shaft, going back towards it to lap it up with such filthy ease.

“nasty girl,” he starts to pant, his right thigh bounces before within moments later…you go back to your original place. gojo’s got a bit of thickness to him, so you gag about two times before he’s fully reached down your throat. he whines, feeling his eager tip prod against your uvula — and that’s when you start to bobble your head. “with a throat like this, you’d be such a good fuckin’ singer, y’know.”

gojo starts mumbling seductive words at you left and right whilst your mouth’s being occupied. it starts to make you throb from underneath…

so much so that you can’t help but reach between your thighs, past your fishnets, and touch yourself.

“…this could be a good vocal training reflex actually,” he adds, and your lips remain enclosed over your teeth. he finds it hot especially how you don’t even use your hands, just your mouth—you had him swallowing imaginary lumps in his throat.

while you’re still abiding inches up and down your throat, his abdomen curls. he lifts a part of his shirt that’s tucked underneath his tux just so you can get a brief view. his biceps were forevermore swollen. you moaned, feeling him keep such a gripping hold on the crown of your head.

“s-shit,” he cursed, starting to chase his breath as if it was some kind of race. he was in love with how sloppy you were.

strings, an entire glistening cobweb of spit slithered down the corners of your mouth—all down your chin. “how’s it taste? ‘s good for you?”

again, your response was a nod, and for a concise moment you sink yourself all the way down.

breathing through your nose, gojo grunts, stroking underneath your chin that was smeared with nothing but your saliva before he pulls you back up again.

“goddamn,” he throws his head back, and he’s starting to stutter. each time your tongue swiped across his sensitive tip, near the entrance of his frenulum, he whined. he leers before that’s when you feel him starting to thrust right into your mouth. he couldn’t help himself. “pretty mouth was just askin’ to get fucked a l-little.”

your jaw opened a bit as you happily took him into your mouth, your eyelids were half-lidded and you stared right up at gojo.

he returns the stare, flashing you a cute abashed grin, uttering a, “h-hey princess.”

your nails dug into the thin layers of his pulled-down pants, feeling him thwack and thwack against the very back of your throat. gojo’s hips were so erratic, thoroughly sloppy that you just craved for more.

“keep suckin’ me l-like that, ‘n i’m gonna make such a mess down that nasty throat of yours.” he whimpered, feeling the way his abs tightened. all from a few kitten licks of your tongue running against him, taking him fully with that most intense eye contact imaginable.

he shifts his feet a bit, and that’s when his phone starts to buzz. gojo grunts, reaching into his pocket before taking out his phone.

with stubby fingers, he uses his same passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ and his eyes widen, murmuring out, “aw man,” you briefly look up at him — confused as to what happened before he scrolls, still having another hand gripped on your head. “my nudes got leaked again?”

…again?

with your mouth full, you kept up a pace, and whilst keeping his attention focused towards the bright blue-lit screen, he makes you suck him off just a bit harder. with a groan, he lets off a snicker. “oh well. at least i look good. i wonder if sugupoo saw..”

he was so unserious, probably the most unserious man you’ve ever met — let alone had to work with for a living.

gojo notices your cold stare and he nervously chuckles, “what? i didn’t say anything,” and then he fakes a moan, moving your head back and forth, an obnoxious grunt. “sorry…i mean uh. fuckkkk. right there, ‘m gonna cum.”

you give the pop star a deadpan before he meekly smiles at you, yet that’s when he moans for real once your tongue cursorily brushes against the scar tissue that resided near the underside of his tip.

“f-fuck. ‘m sensitive there,” he heavily pants, and the nerves throughout his body. his cock that was shoved deep down your throat, you felt your breaths leave through your nose. gojo’s head goes back before he groans, his orgasm feeling like a wave. an abrupt riptide.

once he came, it was so much — it trickled right into your mouth, thick velvety strings of ropes that coated all over your tongue. to halt your gagging, you squeezed your left thumb into a fist, still holding onto his thighs.

gojo’s lip quavered, and his face flushed. with swollen, varicose veins that briefly popped out displaying on his body, he sighs.

“s-so much to give to you, princess,” he slurs, completely out of breath. he was taken aback, watching your cheeks become cutely hollow. gojo’s dick remained in your mouth before he tapped your left temple, whining out a, “say ah. i wanna see.”

immensely, you loll out your tongue, showing him the paint of his cum that stuck in your tongue, how it sprayed all inside.

he groans. gojo rubs his sensitive achey tip near the flatness of your tongue, it turns into short slaps on your tongue and you moan.

“mmh. i read somewhere that if you swallow cum it strengthens your overall vocal performance,” he cheeses, and a droplet of sweat races down the side of his forehead. you sat on your knees, already taking his warm cum down your throat.

gojo was obviously joking…or he wasn’t. you could never tell with this guy.

as he’s calming himself down, catching his breath, the top part of his teeth gnaws down on his lip — he’s too eager because within seconds, he’s got you pinned down on the spare sofa.

“i- i need to be inside you again…” he whispers in a needy tone, and you’re already laid flat on your back. he didn’t even have the decency to take your dress off.

with a single hand, he pulled it up, taking a glimpse at your laced panties. he runs a finger against the thin strap of it, making you shudder before sprawling your legs open.

“you’re supposed to be on stage,” you giggle, watching his lips curl into a pout. he’s so handsy, gojo starts to peel your panties off slowly, licking his lips before a pant exits his mouth. “you’re not gonna hear the end of it from nanami.”

“don’t care,” he whines, grabbing ahold of his length. gojo swallows, such a hungry gaze was presented at you—it made you start to pulse a bit between your thighs.

“couldn’t go onstage like this,” and his voice briefly cracks, it’s cute. gojo brings his fat swollen tip towards your slick entrances and grows quiet once your cunt hums out a squelch. “they can wait. i c-cant.”

the pop star’s eyebrows come together, and once he starts to gradually go inside you—you moan, feeling the immediate sensation of him stretching you out.

“of course y-you can’t,” you roll your eyes teasingly, wrapping your arms around his collar. gojo stares at you and for a split second, his gaze seems romantic.

full of nothing but lust.

he looked like he was about to say something, but he turned away, disregarding it. it was cute, you pulled him in for a kiss and he only moaned right into your mouth.

his fingers traced all over your jaw as your tongue ran against his. his breath was heavy against yours, and the feeling of his body pressed on you made you whine. gojo’s thick cock continued to make its way inside, you were a bit drenched earlier, soaked practically.

gojo couldn’t pinpoint his feelings towards you.

he didn’t know what this thing was. he adored you, he’s always rambled to you about how you were his favorite assistant, whilst being his only assistant ever.

you wanted to ask him if this thing was just a fling or something more.

but…you were far too shy to ask, you figured he was just having fun. which you didn’t mind entirely, yet—you couldn’t help but be curious.

as your lips parted, you felt your legs start to wrap and lock securely around his waist. strands of gojo’s hair pokes against your forehead, and he feels a strong wave of tingles race down his back.

“fuck…i need y-you,” he murmured between kisses, and he was such a perfect fit. the moment he was fully inside, you moaned, giving his bottom lip a sudden bite.

once he started to move, just a single thrust was enough to make your head spin. gojo delivered such a sloppy thrust, that your legs tightly hugged him—and your breathing started to hitch.

he always had such a sweet taste to him, whether it was candied or a rich tang of alcohol to it, you craved it every time.

gojo brings a hand down towards your tummy to lightly press on it, curving his thumb against your bare skin before breaking away for a split second. his nose rubbed against yours before he gives you a cunning sly smile.

“you always have this look on your face,” he whispered in a teasing tone — gojo traces a finger by your lips, pulling your bottom lip down before sliding a finger into your mouth. you willingly suck on it, and he stares intently. “pretty girl. you drive me insane, y’know that?”

his fingers were always made with such length. so slender…

gojo starts up a pace, and the way his hips start to snap against you—you moan a muffled moan. the way your thighs recoil from a single slam against you, it had your mind going in circles.

“always grippin' on me,” he huffs, leaning into the inner part of your neck to lightly sink his teeth. “f-fuck, fuck the grammys. i just want you.”

you wondered if he really meant that.

it was no secret with gojo’s problematic love life, he often gets around… but he’s never had an actual decent relationship. well, he’s had one.

he often doesn’t like to mention it, but it was all over the press.

you wanted to ask him about it, it was far before he became famous — some other a-list celebrity, but he’s always avoided that particular topic.

gojo probably doesn’t even know the true meaning of love.

but you’ve had thoughts that perhaps, just perhaps. maybe you could change that. as unprofessional as it was, the industry was always strict with gojo.

and ever since he stumbled upon you, he’s always felt a bit better. you never treated him any different, and he’s forever liked that about you.

whilst you’re deep in thought, you get brought back to reality once gojo’s covering your neck with visible marks. he’s moaning all into your neck, and he sounds so sweet. melodic moans.

“f-fuck,” he huffs out, kneeling a bit between you. this was the perfect position for him to stare deeply into your eyes. you moan, feeling his lips ghost against the inner part of your neck. his tongue softly dragged against your neck, and the way he rocked his body amongst you made you bite your lip. “look at me.”

your eyes meet his, and he notices a pretty glint in your eye. embarrassment washes over his face as not even two seconds pass, and your stare gets him flustered immediately.

“dunno what i’d do without you,” he huffs out, and he genuinely had such neediness in his tone. you felt a strange string at your heart.

gojo’s always been somewhat protective of you. being so close to him like this, his body weight just barely hovering over you…

his dick reached you deep, you felt the perfectly angled stretch…

the curve as your legs trapped his weight tightly. gojo was gentle, yet a bit rough to make your eyes just about go back. he leans in to sneak kisses near the corners of your lips before murmuring. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum soon.”

he was so warm, you got chills from his body let alone — his rhythm, it was so slow.

simply perfect and precise. for a moment, you drowned everything out, being entrapped into your own thoughts.

you started to wonder if you got together with gojo, maybe he’d finally be happy.

not having to worry about faking a dumb smile for the industry. perhaps you were a bit delusional, but you genuinely pondered about it.

the two of you always did have chemistry.

was it love … or just a game?

the moment gojo cums for a second time, then a third time, then a fourth… it made him moan against your neck. his moans were high-pitched, droplets of sweat racing down the edges of his forehead.

you took his breath away every single time. the way your pussy clung onto him, through and through—each time he’d dump such a thick load into you.

he’s panting heavily, huffing and puffing while leaving you full of nothing but his cum.

it stuck against your thighs, and he became so obsessed that he just kept fucking you—you whined, the back of your ankle, the pretty anklet that wrapped around your foot brushing back against his skin.

gojo never fails to leave kisses all over your body, he nips at the corners of your neck before letting off a low sigh.

“s-satoru,” you’d mumble after a while, feeling his hips come to a certain slow pause. it’s been various positions…and even for him, his legs were just about to give out.

the tips of his ears heat up before he grunts, feeling you continue to clamp down on him. you were now on his back—facing the opposite way, grinding against him and he was pulling you closer. “gonna cum too, ‘m gonna cum.”

“bet you are,” he whispers against your neck. you’re moving back against him in such a slow way it makes him groan—you’re being held with him having a hand playfully wrapped around your throat. his middle finger tickles the middle part of your neck whilst you squeeze his relaxed knee. “give it to me, pretty.”

your eyes meet the very depths of your head, and then you feel yourself start to dramatically spasm.

his cock prodded right amongst your g-spot, not once but a few times…and you let off a whimper once he kept hitting there again and again…

such bundles of nerves continue to build up and up.

your breath gets caught in your throat to where it’s almost like whiplash. gojo tugs on the fabric of your dress, sucking the tender skin of your neck.

“let go for me,” he utters in a soft tone, his tongue deducting trailing up your neck. he knew just how to make you squirm on his lap. “thaaaat’s it, relax.”

his words warmed their way straight down between your legs, he started to guide your hips with his hands, peppering a kiss near the corner of your ear. “make a mess on me ‘n i’ll clean you right up.”

you moaned, feeling that familiar coil in yours snap before you came, by now, you can’t even remember how many orgasms he’s coaxed out of you. “f-fuckkk.” you spat, slumping your head back against him.

“so good for me,” he pants, bringing a hand towards your tummy. he toys with the string of your panties that was lazily moved to the side before he nervously cheeses, realization washing over his face. “o-oh shit. the awards...”

and yet here you were, currently standing alongside gojo as he was accepting his fifth award.

the minute he announced to probably millions of people across the words that he was thankful for your pussy, the entire arena went dead silent.

all you could hear in the background was some lady screeching out, “you need to leave!”

“…satoru, you can’t just say that on live television.” you leaned in, whispering to him with clenched teeth.

“oh yeahhh…you’re right,” he sheepishly said, turning back towards the mic. he cleared his throat before grinning, holding up his award with the most unserious expression. “uh. i mean, i wanna thank my team, my uh…”

he goes mute for a moment before concluding his speech, finishing with a, “thank you a lot though! i am tooootally grateful. and also, don’t forget to pre-order my new single, ‘it guy.’ only $69.69. if you ask me, that’s not that bad of a deal, hehe. seriously, stream it. please?”

you spot nanami in the distance shaking his head in utter disappointment. he could already predict the current headlines about to roll out.

gojo brings you towards his limo after the awards, quickly rushing you so the both of you can avoid the paparazzi.

they were probably just itching for a reaction. once the two of you made it inside, he was saying something to you before he leaned in for a kiss.

you kiss him back, teasingly pulling his tie closer towards you, and he goes up between your legs, eager to finish what he started earlier. prints of your lipstick were all over his collar, and gojo even autographed your ass with his signature. only to smack it, making it smear all over.

you moaned, squeezing his hand before pulling away, panting—out of breath before you smiled, only to pause. you and him make direct eye contact, and he’s so close to your lips, so close to kiss you again but he waits for you to speak, do something.

he figured you were gonna kiss him again, but instead without even thinking, you whispered out a, “i- i think i love you.”

“…you what?”

3K notes · View notes

iicarused · 5 months

Text

##come back to me

ex!vox x reader / alastor x reader (in reality he stole vox’s bitch)

part i

synopsis: you’re getting tired of the radio demon

beware: heavy yandere aspects, heavy obsession, implications of manipulation, reader just not having a break

whenever he looked at you, gazed upon your form, they were always so gentle. the embodiment of love and infatuation were behind them, as he wouldn’t be able to hide it even if he tried.

alastor won’t lie, he first started talking with you out of spite from his rival. you were in a vulnerable state at the time, and my, did you spill most of vox’s secrets behind closed doors! alastor came to you just to talk heavy shit about vox in hindsight.

although, it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t catching a genuine interest in your own stories and interests. it took time but he did fall for the aspect that you are one of a kind: little did he know, you came from the era of his circle. it was like it was meant to be.

“my dear, if you do not want to deal with a rodent like him, give me the word and he will be gone.” “don’t you lift your pretty finger, i will take care of him.” “you’re so cute when you try and take control — we both know he will not listen to your word — it’ll just make him more starved.” this is where you began to hear vox behind his words

they’re were laced and very similar. the contrast was that alastor seemed more confident in his words, almost like he expected you to listen to his statements when there wasn’t a choice. at first, you didn’t want to believe it. the radio demon was far different from the man you called an ex

just like last time, you felt suffocated in your own space. you felt small, but this time you caught the signs before it could go any further. alastor didn’t appreciate that, especially since you took the lead more often.

you had to take a break, just a simple break, even for an hour. you wanted to get as far as you possibly could from that demon for even a fragment of time. husk caught a glimpse of you leaving on a dark night, but he only nodded at you before continuing on with his task.

getting away from one demon was one thing, hiding from two was another. you were fully aware that alastor would know of your absence soon enough, as that cannibal never seemed to sleep. although, you could only stay out of the streets for so long in hopes that vox hadn’t noticed.

you found yourself straying into a bar, for the bouncer happened to be an old friend to let you in even when the place was at max. in the far corner of the building where a busted light hung over your head, never to be replaced or fixed since months ago. your gaze fixated on the shitty drink some guy handed you in the crowd, and it was evidently spiked from how it fizzed.

“and i thought that wretched hotel was your haven.” your gaze picked up to find vox standing over you. he picked at his sleeve. “seat taken?”

too exhausted to care, you beckoned for him to take the seat. “not like today could get any worse.” you pushed your drink to the side, raising a hand before he could speak. “don’t begin on your excuses, not tonight.”

“sweet hells, what happened to you?” oh, how you missed the gentleness of his voice. you missed the way how he gazed at you at this very moment — it was specific and genuine — you never fell out of love with him. just… distanced yourself from it. “i swear to fuck if it’s that demon, i will—“

“vox, it’s fine.” your hand came over his. “it’s whatever, not like you could just get in that hotel without getting tossed across the pentagram.”

those heart pupils that adorned his eyes finally shown, and that’s when you remembered why you had to get away from him. “sweetheart, i don’t understand why you won’t come back to me — come back home where i know you’re safe and well.”

it’s almost like a sixth sense to know that the answer you’re about to give him will result in a temper tantrum. so you decided against it. “i have to go.”

“y/n, please, this is the only time we get to talk, don’t go! i promise to make it better, i—“

he lost you in the crowd.

returning back to the hotel at the dawn of a new day was almost a mistake. a hand came to pinch the bridge of your nose the moment alastor came to your side.

to your surprise, he didn’t ask a thousand questions. instead, he went on with hoping your night out went well and to alert him next time. though, there was a hint of something else behind his tone you couldn’t figure out.

just like any other day, you both gardened the plants that are scattered along the building. making breakfast that involves fresh meat and a fine cup of tea.

is it too late to add that you’re getting used to this? it’s suffocating, yes, but alastor seems to make it more bearable.

#ᥫ᭡.#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #vox imagine #vox x yn #vox x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #alastor x reader #alastor x yn #alastor x you #alastor imagine #hazbin alastor

2K notes · View notes

ilyrafe · 30 days

Text

𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: brief sexual innuendo, rafe being a softie!!!!

word count: 2.6k (i *might* have gotten carried away i'm so sorry lol)

a/n: this is a sequel to late night and also based on this, so thanks @keziahcore ! your mind is literally everything!

it’s almost like a sixth sense.

rafe feels your absence from the bed, and immediately becomes agitated. he turns on the lamp next to his bed and looks for any sign that you’re still there, and finds your small handbag on the armchair, which makes him just slightly relieved.

when he looks at the clock, he sees that it is almost two in the morning. the bathroom door is ajar and the lights are off, which means you’re not there. before he can leave his room looking for you, you return, holding a glass of water, wearing only his shirt to cover yourself up.

“where were you? why did you leave me here?”

he can’t control this agony, this anguish that always catches him off guard when he finds himself alone. he can’t help feeling like a time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. the smallest things you do seem to trigger him massively, and he hates that. he hates that he ends up being rude and harsh to you, because you’re always so understanding and sweet.

even he knows he doesn’t deserve you.

“i was thirsty and went downstairs to drink some water.” your tone is sweet and calm, which makes him feel like shit.

his face changes, as he seems to calm down. you didn’t leave him, you just went to get some water. you’re there, your stuff is there, you’re not going anywhere.

“next time, leave a glass here. i don’t like it when you do that.” he says in a much softer tone, but he’s still upset that his sleep got interrupted.

“do what? get hydrated?” you joke, trying to lighten up his mood.

he rolls his eyes and huffs. don’t make him tell the truth.

“go back to bed. i’m tired, alright? i had a long day.”

“actually, i was going to read a book. i’m not sleepy and i don’t want to lie down right now.”

is it so hard to understand that he wants you to be close to him so that he feels safe enough to get a decent night’s sleep?

“you can read on the bed.”

“you won’t mind the lamp on?”

“no, just get the damn book and come back to bed.”

you laugh and nod, picking up the book from his desk and following him to his bed. rafe gets to his spot and as you sit down, he places one hand on your bare thigh and falls back to sleep almost immediately.

while he dives deep into his necessary rest, you start reading. it’s that book, in cold blood by truman capote. you don’t know if rafe is a reader, he never really talks about books with you.

every once in a while, you look down at your thighs to see his hand, firmly holding you, to make sure you won’t leave. this small gesture makes you feel stupid. stupid to believe he might feel something other than lust for you. rafe makes you question your beliefs and that itself makes you feel overwhelmed.

sometimes you want to leave, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. and you have tried countless times. he’s good for you in the same intensity he’s bad. to say you’re scared to ask him what you are would be an understatement, but you just would like some clarification, because you don’t beg the people you’re casually fucking to stay the night almost every night and throw a tantrum when they leave to get some water.

deep down, you know you’re more scared to hear you’re just an easy fuck. at this point, this would tear you apart.

being with rafe is a challenge. it’s like running a marathon you know you will not get to the finish line, and yet, you keep running.

when it’s almost four in the morning, you close the book and turn the lamp off. finally, sleep comes to you, and you settle into his bed, still holding rafe’s hand, which never left your thigh. with the touch, rafe wakes up, and this time he is no longer agitated.

“sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” you say, as you snuggle into the mattress.

“you- what time is it?” he asks, adorably confused and sleepy.

“it’s almost four.”

“and you’re going to sleep now?”

“yeah. go back to sleep, it’s early.” you say softly, placing a hand on his cheek, and he complies, pulling you close.

(...)

rafe’s alarm clock rings promptly at seven in the morning. he turns it off and goes back to his previous position: hugging you.

your hair smells like coconut and your skin is always soft. he never wants to not be touching you. it’s like your body was made to be next to his. for some reason, just your presence is enough to make him feel calm and at peace.

he places the softest kiss on your shoulder, enjoying the quietness that only early mornings can give him. the sweet sound of birds chirping outside makes him forget about everything else. rafe only has you in his mind (and in his arms).

you wake up and soon turn to face him. rafe has the most adorable sleepy face, and you might never stop melting over him. seeing him up close will never not be amazing. he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. he probably has the most beautiful shade of blue in his eyes.

“go back to sleep.” he whispers.

“‘m not sleepy anymore.” you mumble as you rub your eyes, which rafe finds captivating. “hi.”

“hi,” he smiles. “you only slept for three hours, sleep some more.” he insists, and you feel a tone of concern in his voice, but maybe it’s just your sleep giving you that impression.

“i’m okay, rafey.”

rafey. he hates that stupid nickname, but when it comes out of your mouth, he wants to legally change his name to it.

“you’re gonna be tired.”

“no, i’m not. i don’t normally sleep a lot.”

rafe frowns not because he’s confused - he obviously isn’t. he’s just not liking what you’re saying. he doesn’t like the idea of you struggling with whatever that may be. rafe knows damn well how bad it is to be sleep deprived, he doesn’t want you going through that.

“you have insomnia?”

“i guess i do,” you shrug. “i don’t really know. i just don’t sleep a lot. i wish i did, though. i get so jealous when i see you sleeping for hours on end.” you smile sweetly at him. “you’re so relaxed. must be nice…”

you let go of rafe after leaving a timid kiss on his lips, and stretch before getting up and going to his bathroom to start your morning routine.

after a quiet breakfast, rafe gives you a ride home, and he can’t hide his concern about what you said.

“i’ll see you around, yeah?” you tell him, with the sweetest smile you always have.

“of course. uh, about that sleep thing… if you need help with that… i’m here.”

“rafe, i think you might be a sex addict.” you joke, really not understanding what he meant. he isn’t talking about sex. the one time he isn’t talking about sex, you don’t get it.

“well, i’m just one call away.”

you chuckle and intend to kiss his cheek, but rafe is quick enough to turn his face and make you kiss his lips. you laugh at his antics.

silly rafe is your favorite. if only other people got to see this side of him.

he watches you leave his car and get inside your home. the strange feeling of loneliness comes back almost immediately, but it gets him thinking. it has to be some sort of irony that the person that quite literally helps him sleep isn’t sleeping.

(...)

only two days have passed and rafe already needs you to spend the night at his house again. he is so tired and exhausted. he takes out his phone and quickly types a message.

rafe: are u busy right now? can i pick u up?

you don’t tend to take long to respond to his texts, but this time, an hour goes by and nothing, so rafe starts to feel that unbearable anguish again, and starts to think that you left him and that you found someone better to spend you time with.

impulsively, rafe facetimes you, and you answer. from your face alone, he can see the tiredness in your eyes. or rather, in your dark circles. you’re in your bedroom, which makes him feel calmer.

“hi, rafey. sorry, i just got my phone.”

“what are you doing?”

“i’m studying for my exams.”

“i just wanted to know if i could pick you up.”

“i’d love to,” you smile. “but it’s not a good idea, i need to study and i have a mountain of books to read until tomorrow if i want a good grade, which i do.”

“you’re tired, you should rest.” he advises, visibly worried.

“nothing a can of red bull can’t fix.” you say showing him the can.

“y/n, please go to sleep.”

something about his request makes you angry. maybe it’s the stress, or the fact that this time rafe is right.

“rafe, you’re not my boss. i need to hang up, i got shit to do.”

before he can protest, you hang up the call, and surprisingly, rafe doesn’t get angry. this is what it’s like when he’s sleep deprived.

as always, rafe wants to take control of the situation, so he puts on a hoodie, grabs his car keys and leaves his house to go to yours. it’s late at night, and rafe knows your parents are probably asleep.

the path is short, and soon he arrives in front of your house and the light is on in your bedroom, which tells him that you are still up. carefully, rafe gets out of his car and walks to the back of your residence, and climbs the wall, always making sure he doesn’t get caught by anyone. finally, rafe gets on the small balcony of your room and sees you surrounded by papers, books and notebooks. it’s a mess.

he knocks on the glass door, which startles you, but you soon calm down when you see it’s him. you almost run to open the door, but your face isn’t the happiest.

“what are you doing here, rafe?”

“nice to see you, too.” he ironizes as he steps inside your bedroom. “i have a proposition for you.”

“i’m so not in the mood, rafe…”

“listen to me.” he says. “i’ll… i’ll help you out with this stuff, as long as you let me help you sleep.”

“i don’t wanna have sex.”

“i’m not talking about sex.”

oh.

“you mean… sleep? like, really sleep?”

“yeah. i don’t like that you sleep so little. you’re becoming cranky.”

you chuckle at the last bit. you can’t stay mad at him, can you?

“that’s a nice offer, rafe, but what do you know about biology?”

“i’ll have you know i was a good student.” he pouts and you laugh. “even if i don’t know what you’re studying, i’ll help you out.”

it takes you a few seconds, but it’s decided. your body is about to give out, you really need to rest. you can’t absorb any more information. a good sleep might even help you learn whatever you need.

“okay.”

rafe smiles and it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

you begin to organize all your notes and books on your desk and rafe begins to undress down to his underwear, and gets comfortable on your bed. he realizes this is his first time sleeping on your bed, and he already likes the faint smell of rosemary that your bedroom exudes.

you have such a pretty bedroom. the walls are painted in the softest shade of blue, and you have books everywhere. no wonder you’re so smart, you read a lot.

the wooden furniture gives an earthy feel to your room, contrasting with the delicacy of the light blue walls. in the photos of the small mural on the wall, rafe realizes that he wanted to be there, present in the photos, and maybe, in a photo with you. you are always smiling and being hugged by someone, or hugging them. you are like that, you are magnetic.

you finish organizing your things and quickly change into a shirt of rafe’s that you hope he doesn’t recognize. it’s big and comfortable, and it makes you feel close to him when he’s far away.

the lamp next to your bed is on, so you turn off the main light in your room and go to your bed, meeting rafe, and he has the smallest smile on his lips. it’s ironic how having sex and being naked doesn’t feel as intimate as simply sleeping together does.

“are your parents home?” he asks.

“no, why?”

“so i could have come through the door, huh.”

“yeah.” you laugh.

a brief moment of silence sits between you two, as you’re staring at each other’s eyes. rafe is mesmerized and terrified at the same time. this - whatever this is - feels so nice and so foreign. he knows damn well he isn’t one to want to just sleep with someone, let alone climb up a wall to just sleep with someone.

rafe cameron is in love, and he is utterly terrified.

“what are you thinking?” you ask in a whisper.

your blinks are getting slower and slower. rafe begins to run his hand through your hair, combing them back, and touching the skin of your neck and shoulders ever so softly.

thinking about how much i want to be with you and how fucking scared i am.

“nothin’. close your eyes.”

you do, not because he told you to, but because you couldn’t keep them open any longer.

why do you feel the safest with someone as dangerous as rafe cameron? someone who deals with the shadiest people around, that has anger issues and violent behavior.

that tried to drown his own sister.

why none of that matters when you’re in his arms? are you actually insane?

probably.

(...)

as soon as you wake up, you see your bed empty, and rafe’s clothes are no longer on the floor, where he had left them last night. it was to be expected, but you still feel disappointed. he was so sweet last night.

when you look at the clock, it’s already past nine in the morning, which means you’ve slept, surprisingly, eight hours straight. damn, you really were sleep deprived.

the sound of your stomach begging for food makes you get out of bed.

when you leave your bedroom, you hear the sound of the tv on and get scared. slowly, without making any noise, you go down the stairs, trying to find out if your house has been invaded, but it would be strange, as it is daytime. soon you see rafe walking around your house.

he didn’t leave?

it’s like you’re not even there. you get to watch rafe make himself comfortable in your kitchen, looking for stuff to put on the table. there are two delivery bags on the counter, which means he bought food, but the gesture warms your heart, which was merely shattered.

“the cutlery is in the second drawer next to the sink.” you say, startling him a bit.

“jesus. can you, i don’t know, announce you’re in the room? i almost dropped your coffee.”

you laugh.

“sorry, rafey. what are you doing, i thought you had left.”

“uh, i bought breakfast for y- us.” he says. you look inside the bags and you can tell he ordered possibly everything you have eaten from that place. “c’mon, i ordered that vegan shit you like, your coffee and even a pretzel.”

you follow him to the table and you both begin helping yourselves. this isn’t your first time having breakfast with him, but it does feel like it’s a first.

for the first time, you don’t want to leave him.

i love feedback! let me know your thoughts! <3

#my writings #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey imagine

1K notes · View notes

strang3lov3 · 5 months

Text

Fighting Fair

Joel doesn’t know what or who started this fucking thing, but he’s finishing it. Tonight.

Tags: impish activities, soft dom!joel sorta aggressive joel, forced proximity, cock grinding, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie (always), teasing, dirty talk, almost somnophilia (they’re sleep-teasing each other unconsciously) sexually frustrated morons, good ol' fashioned "we have to get naked and share body heat to stay warm" trope

A/N: I had to drag myself kicking and screaming into writing this fic that put me through the fucking ringer!!! Thank you @theywhowriteandknowthings @merz-8 and @beefrobeefcal for the general fic help and encouragement! And I think also @noxturnalpascal and @tightjeansjavi and ESPECIALLY @notjustjavierpena who talked me through this fic a couple weeks ago and gave me the push I needed to finish it when I was stuck. You guys all rock ❤️

It’s too cold tonight, even indoors and with a fire burning. He moved the large sectional couch as close as he could safely get it by the fireplace, gave you his jacket, and you’re still hoarding the blanket. Joel tries to gently tug on the blanket that you’ve wrapped around your body, see if maybe you can spare to lose a few inches of fabric. You don’t budge. Joel sighs, “Y’can share, ya know.”

“This is sharing.”

“It’s not, actually. I’m the one sharin’ here. I gave you my coat, you can quit hoggin’ all the blanket,” Joel tugs harder on the blanket, it’s old and kind of scratchy, worn out by the years. “C’mon. Let up.”

“You can have this much,” You mumble, giving Joel a small amount of the fabric.

“How generous of you,” Joel mutters sarcastically before pulling the blanket entirely off of your shoulders. “Thank you. S’very kind.”

“Hey,” you whine.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He covers his body in the blanket, making sure to cover your legs and feet as well. His hands brush over your own and he winces at their ice cold temperature. “Jesus, girl. Gimme these,” he mumbles, taking your hands into his own and holding them tightly. “Hands feel like icicles.”

“This fucking sucks, Joel,” you complain.

“It does,” he agrees. Joel’s been dreading this point in the year. He’s eased up on his ‘no fires’ rule for the most part, but fire doesn’t help when it’s as cold as it has been. Tonight, he’s grateful you spotted this old house from afar, even more grateful it has a fireplace. But it’s especially cold tonight, maybe even nearing below zero temperatures. Even with a glowing fire and a shelter preventing the chill of the wind piercing you to the bone, he’s not sure that’s enough to keep you both warm. Joel shivers, “This shit’s not workin’.”

You shake your head no. It’s not.

Joel’s not quite sure how to offer up his idea. It’ll be fine, or at least, it should be fine. What needs to happen is you and Joel need to get cozy and share body heat, the real way, with both of your bodies completely bare and pressed against each other.

Most of the time, you and Joel fall asleep separately. Occasionally, however, Joel will wake up in the early hours of the morning with your body inexplicably tangled in his, your head laying on his chest. The first time it happened, Joel was annoyed. “Get off of me,” he grumbled. “Not your fuckin’ teddy bear,” You whined in response, and when Joel tried to move you from him you clung to his body tighter. “Jesus,” he mumbled to himself.

After about the fifth or sixth time of waking up with you clinging to his body, he stopped trying to fight it. In fact, he even started to hold you closer, stroke your hair. Sometimes he’d wake up holding you, other times he’d wake up with your arms wrapped around him and your tummy pressed against his back. It was nice, mostly.

Mostly. You have the most uncanny ability to tease Joel in your sleep. Your hand will mysteriously travel from his side up to his chest, your thumb rubbing over his nipple. Other times, it’s your leg that brushes against his crotch. Or your ass, wiggling against his morning wood. After you wake, he’ll leave you alone for a few moments to quietly take care of himself, stroking his member to the thought of your naked body, your soft curves and smooth skin. Sometimes he’s not able to sneak away in the mornings and he’ll be hard as a rock and miserable the entire day. It’s unbearably frustrating. He’s never brought this tendency of yours up to you and he never will, because you’re not doing anything intentionally, at least he thinks. Though, there was one time after a particularly excruciating night of teasing, he thought he saw you smirk as he left to take care of himself. It was probably nothing.

That’s what he’s worried about. Your body, naked against his, teasing him. His arousal won’t be so easy to hide without the protection of clothing, not to mention he may not even be able to fall asleep. It’s not gonna be an easy night, but it’s the only option at this point.

Joel clears his throat, “We’re gonna try somethin’ different tonight,” he starts, “An’ we’re not gonna talk about it. Ever.”

“Okay,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“You trust me?” he asks. You nod. “Good,” he says, “We’re gonna share our body heat. An’ it works better with skin to skin contact, which means we’re both gonna get naked and close under the blanket, but we’re not gonna talk about it. Not tonight, not ever. Can you do this?”

“I can,” you tell him. You’re not totally surprised by Joel’s idea, but you’re glad he was the one who brought it up. Truthfully, it’s been something you’ve been thinking of doing with him for quite some time now, since the weather’s been getting so cold. You’ve pictured it, rubbing your bare feet against his legs for some warmth. He’ll probably kick you away, complain that he’s cold too. You’ll tell him too bad.

“Okay,” he mumbles awkwardly, “Okay, s’good. I’m gonna turn around and get to it then, f’ya wanna…”

“Yeah, got it.”

You and Joel separate, he places the blanket at his end of the couch as he begins to unbutton his flannel. You remove his coat from your body then shimmy off your pants, leaving them crumpled on the floor. You catch a glimpse of Joel’s back, the firelight dancing on his toned and broad muscles, the scars and stretch marks decorating his skin like art. Quickly, you avert your eyes and begin to remove your shirt. You don’t notice Joel stealing a peek at your body, the blush creeping up his cheeks when he sees your bare breasts.

“Ready?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, but you’re anxious. You’re not sure how it happens, but you’ve been waking up with Joel here and there. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night with his limbs inexplicably wrapped around you, his chin resting on your head. The first time it happened, you were confused. You tried to shrug him off of you, but Joel only held you tighter, sleepily mumbling in an annoyed tone.

After about the fourth or fifth time of waking up with him holding your body, you stopped trying to fight it. In fact, you’d back yourself into him, even scratch his forearms to relax him. There’d be times you’d wake up being spooned by him, other times you’d wake up spooning him, with your arms wrapped around him and your tummy pressed against his back. It’s nice, mostly.

Mostly. Joel has this inexplicable habit of teasing you in his sleep. His hand will mysteriously travel from your side up to your breasts, his thumb catching on your nipples and rubbing them softly. Other times, he presses his cock against your ass, nudging you and gently grinding against your ass. When you wake, you find somewhere quiet to touch yourself, rubbing your clit to the thought of his body, his warm eyes, the groaning noises he’ll make when he stretches in the morning. Sometimes in the mornings, you can’t sneak away and you’ll be soaked all day, miserable as your core pulses and aches for him. It’s god awful, unbearably frustrating. But you’ve never brought this tendency of his up to him and you never will, because he’s not doing anything intentionally, at least you think. Though, there was one time after a particularly excruciating night of him teasing your nipples, you felt him touch you a little more intensely, like there could have been conscious thought behind the action. It was probably nothing.

This is what you’re worried about. His body, naked against yours, teasing you. It’s gonna be a difficult night, but you know it’s the only option.

Joel reaches for the blanket, spreads it out as he inches back towards you on the couch. “You can lay on your side like that, facin’ the fire,” he offers, and you follow his suggestion. Joel slots himself behind you and tucks the blanket around both of your bodies, then pulls you closer to his body. “Yeah, good girl. You got it. M’gonna hold you tight like this,” he tells you.

Good girl. His words send desire flooding your veins. Sweet talking in your ear, his hands holding you close and tight. God, this is trouble.

“Just need to scoot a little closer, like–” you back your ass into his crotch, “M’just so cold, Joel.”

Fuck. Joel can feel his growing arousal pressing against your ass. “I know you are, hon, just–don’t move like that on me,” He keeps you as close as he can against your body, pressing the length of his arm against your torso to keep you warm. His hand brushes against your breasts, thumb caressing your nipple. You gasp.

“Need you closer, though,” you mumble, wiggling against his crotch once more. His length hardens fully, prodding against your ass. His breath hitches, “Ignore it,” he grumbles, now annoyed. How many hints does he have to drop? Or are you doing this shit on purpose?

You’re annoyed too, honestly. He’s not directly groping you, but his fingertips have not left your nipples, lightly grazing over them and setting your skin on fire. Do you need to spell it out for him, what he’s doing to you? Surely it’s intentional on his end. Has to be.

There’s a moment where you’re quiet and so is Joel, both of you tired and confused and sexually frustrated with the other. Maybe you’re looking for a fight, but something’s gotta give. Fuck it, you’ll be the one to instigate. “Ignore what, Joel?” you ask, voice incredulous and laced with sarcasm.

“I’m–my–fuck,” Joel stammers. He feels your body move with your stifled giggles. “Knock it off.”

“It’s all for me, isn’t it Joel?”

“Dammit, just–shut up,” Joel stiffens as he feels his face and neck begin to warm. “And mind your business. S’not for you. S’not for anyone,” he lies, cringing internally for his defensiveness, definitely overcompensating. He rolls his eyes, knowing he was right. Five minutes into sharing body heat with you and it is not going well at all. You twist your hips once more. “I said ignore it,” he grumbles, his hand finding your hip and holding it firmly in place. “Not rub your ass on it. Now sit still. You’re testin’ my patience.”

“I can’t help it, Joel. I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you lie.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re gettin’ me in trouble is what you’re doing. Now for the love of god, quit it.”

Ten minutes go by without an incident, and Joel is focusing on trying to sleep with your naked body pressed against his. He’s certainly beginning to warm up but at what cost? He’s breathing in your scent, feeling your warm skin under his hand, which is hard enough to deal with. And then you fucking do it again, because his fingers are still lightly touching your sensitive nipples. “What did I just say?” Joel flips you on your other side so you’re facing him, then holds your jaw between his fingers. “Look at me,” he tells you. “Knock it off. Quit your squirmin’, quit wigglin’ your ass on my–” You can’t hide the grin that forms on your lips at his accusation. You purse your lips in an attempt to hide the amusement you’ve garnered from your payback, but Joel sees it. “Why’re you fuckin’ with me?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You know exactly what you’re doin’. Why are you fuckin’ with me?”

You shrug, “You started it.”

“I never fuckin’ know what you’re talkin’ about,” Joel complains through a deep sigh, exasperated.

“The teasing,” you explain, “You snuggle me and end up teasing me, playing with my tits and whatnot. You know what you do,” you accuse, “So I’m getting you back. Fair’s fair.”

“So you get worked up and you retaliate by givin’ me a hard on. Charming,” Joel grumbles, “And you’re one to talk about wanderin’ hands. Do you know how many times I’ve woken up with your hands in places they shouldn’t have been? Shouldn’t even be fuckin’ sleepin’ together.”

“You never complained about it before,” you retort, referring to the accidental snuggles that take place between Joel and yourself.

Joel wears a confused expression for a moment, then glares at you. He narrows his eyes at you, completely misunderstanding what you meant. In his head, he’s thinking that you’ve just admitted all of that accidental teasing–it has been fucking intentional on your part. He knew it! “Before? You’re tellin’ me this is a hobby of yours?” he spits, “I knew you had ulterior motives with that late night cuddlin’ of yours. You’ve been gettin’ me hot an’ bothered on purpose, haven’t you?”

You sigh, “No, I’m talking about—” and then you realize, if Joel thinks you’ve been intentionally getting him worked up all this time, he’s been doing the same shit to you to retaliate. “Only because you did it to me first,” you accuse.

Joel scoffs. “I don’t believe this,” he scoffs, “I don’t care who started it, I’m finishin’ it right now.”

Your heart pounds as desire pools in your gut, a warm, sticky feeling. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin about,” Joel whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “I’m gettin’ you out of my system once and for all. You’re fuckin’ ridiculous. We’re done with this.”

Joel shifts his arm, reaching for his cock. You watch as he wraps his palm around his member, thumb swiping over his red and swollen tip. His soft belly bulges against his arm that’s pressed tightly against himself as he strokes his member slowly, patiently. When you reach for his cock to replace his hand with your own, you’re in disbelief as he swats your hand away. “Joel,” you whine, confused.

“Was never really teasin’ ya, by the way. Think you’re a little selective in that way. Seein’ and hearin’ what you want to.” Joel accuses in a gentle tone as he continues to massage himself, “And even if I was, you don’t fight fair.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, sweetheart, all that shit you do to me, I’m gonna do right back to you,” Joel reaches for your leg, grabs the back of your knee and hikes your leg over his hip, pulling you closer and exposing your pussy to him. “Not going to go easy on you sweetheart, you sure you want this?” he asks, giving you an out. But you nod anyway, your tummy fluttering with desire as your mind begins to race, wondering exactly how he’ll retaliate after being pent up like this for so long. “Good,” he says.

Holding his cock in his hand, he guides the tip to your center, collecting the slick pooling at your entrance and taps the thick head against your clit. He pulls you closer and begins to drag himself through your folds. “Joel,” you gasp, “What are you doing?”

“Tryin’ out your modus operandi,” he breathes. “Isn’t this whatcha were just doin’? Rubbin’ up on me?”

“I wasn’t–mmmm,” you hum as he continues to rub the head of his cock against you, “Wasn’t like this.”

“You’re full of shit,” Joel groans as goes up and down, up and down, notching his tip ever so quickly inside of you to gather your increasing arousal and dragging it through your folds, paying special attention to your clit. You’re pulsing, clenching around nothing as he teases you agonizingly. “You’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess. S’all for me, isn’t it?” he taunts you, using your words from earlier. “God, you don’t take much at all. Soakin’ me, sweetheart.”

He notches his tip inside you to collect your wetness once more and you cry out, “Just fuck me.”

“You’re not gettin’ it,” he breathes, “Told ya, you’re gettin’ your comeuppance.”

You feel like you’re gonna burst. He rubs the head of his cock over your clit in circles, listening to your whines of displeasure when he pulls away from you to focus on his own pleasure. When presses himself against you again, he focuses his tip only at your clit, your slick helping him to slide up and down with ease. When he begins to roll his hips for added pressure, you bite into his shoulder to contain your cries. This is agonizing and so fucking delicious all at the same time.

You adjust your hips, simultaneously reaching for Joel’s cock to guide him to your entrance. You need him now. “C’mon, now. You mind your manners,” he chides you, “S’not any way to get what ya want.”

“Please, just fuck–need you inside me.”

“Sure thing,” he says in a honeyed tone. He replaces his cock with his fingers, leisurely dragging them through your slick folds before dipping first one, then two fingers inside you. He finds that delicious spot inside you, but curls his fingers lazily, not yet providing you with what you need. You’re throbbing, aching, hungry for more.

“Joel, not–”

“Shoulda been more specific, then,” he interrupts. Bastard. When you try to argue, Joel flips you on your back and guides his cock to your entrance, notching his tip in you again, this time not leaving. You whine eagerly, wrapping your legs around him and pressing your feet into his ass, trying to pull him closer. You need him inside you, now.

“Not all at once,” Joel purrs as he enters you at a glacial pace. He pushes inside you gradually, letting you feel every inch of him, stopping momentarily to adjust the blanket over his shoulders to keep both of your bodies enveloped in warmth. Joel bottoms out inside of you and pulls back out, then enters you again, so fucking slowly. You’re not sure how he manages to tease you while fucking you, but he’s doing it. You just need more, need it faster, harder, more. You reach for your clit, but Joel pins both of your hands under one of his own as he fucks into you. Tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes. “You can cry all you want, sweetheart,” he coos, “You made your bed. We’re not done with this yet,” he continues, “But, maybe if ya sweet talk me, apologize for startin’ somethin’ you couldn’t finish…”

“M’sorry, Joel,” you apologize quickly. All your fire, your mischief, Joel’s now extinguished like a flame.

“I knew you’d be sorry,” Joel murmurs. Knowing how badly you need to release, Joel snakes his other hand between your thighs and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb ever so lightly. Torturing you, taunting you with what you could have and never giving you more.

He’s fucking you at a steady pace now, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. It’s not enough. The wet, gushing sounds of your cunt and the way Joel’s skin feels against yours has you feeling dizzy. Joel’s savoring the way you’re squirming under him, straining your wrists against his locked grip. He knows you’re aching for release, but he’s determined to teach you a lesson, even if that means torturing himself.

Yes, as pleasurable as this is for Joel to watch you fuck around and find out, it’s misery for him too. Fucking his fist with the tip of his cock kissing your pussy was no easy task, and neither is holding back from how he truly wants to fuck you. Because, truthfully, he wants to fucking ruin you. Show you just what he thinks of these stunts you’ve been pulling. Show you just what he thinks of your wandering hands and your innocent ‘adjustments’.

“Please,” you gasp, “Just make me come, Joel.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. M’not feelin’ particularly generous at the moment.”

“Please,” you whine, “Been needing y–this for so long.”

“Ahhh,” Joel hums, “And the truth comes out,” he groans as he rolls his hips against you, “S’that what all of this is about? Been needin’ me?” you nod quickly, “Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

“Fuck, Joel, I don’t know. Forever,” you cry, “I need to come now, please. Need to come on your cock, fuck.”

“F’ya said somethin’ earlier instead of toyin’ with me like you’ve been doin’, we wouldn’t be in this mess, sweetheart.”

You don’t know how much more you can take. Tears of frustration trail down your cheeks, each of his thrusts hitting deep and massaging your insides, intentionally, powerfully.

Joel’s right there with you, struggling as well. He wants nothing more than to keep fucking you without allowing you to finish, having never seen anything before so erotic and beautiful as your squirming, writhing body. Your soft body, those sweet noises, that frustrated face of yours. And it’s all at his hands, he’s the one responsible for turning into this mess.

“Fuck,” he whispers through a shuddering breath, “Not gonna–”

“Joel,” you cry, the only word you know anymore being his name.

“Let’s be done with this,” he decides, fucking finally. He circles your clit steadily now, finding a pace and a pressure that has you letting out breathy gasps and moans as your orgasm approaches. “Want you to come for me,” he says.

His words are all you need. That warm, sticky feeling in the pit of your stomach builds quickly and releases almost instantaneously, sending pleasure erupting through your veins. You feel it everywhere, the back of your thighs, deep in your gut. Wave after wave of pleasure rocks your body as Joel’s thrusts quicken as he fucks you at a now frenzied, sloppy pace he chases his own release.

“Fuck,” he hisses, coming with a deep, stuttering moan of your name. His muscles jerk and tremble as his cock pulses inside you, painting your insides with thick ropes of his spend. He pulls out of you groaning, his hot, slick release making your thighs sticky. He places a gentle kiss to your lips and then to your forehead, the action a stark contrast to his previous demeanor. All's right with the world now. Sexual frustration solved.

He takes his place behind you again, pulling you close to his chest for the last time and making sure the blanket is covering you both. You’re certainly warmed up now. A little too warm, even. But you’re not complaining.

“Still not talkin’ about tonight,” Joel reminds you, “Ever.”

“Nope,” you agree.

Another quiet moment passes. For shits and giggles, you rub your ass against his crotch. “But I take it we’ll be doin’ this again, won’t we?” he says, defeated as you continue to tease him.

“Definitely.”

“Good god,” Joel sighs, “Get back over here, then. You drive me fuckin’ nuts,” he adds, pulling you back for round two. He was right, it’s a long night ahead of him.

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller one shot #Joel miller x reader smut

3K notes · View notes

suugarbabe · 9 months

Text

Unexpected | m.r x reader

prompt: Hii! How are you? This is my first time sending an ask and I just wanted to say that I love your writings! May I ask for a enemies to lovers with Mattheo Riddle? The reader is from the golden trio and they get into an argument with a lot of chemistry and tension. Thank you and I'm sorry for my bad english.

maybe enemies to lovers, like they hate each other and then realize that they are soulmates and then have to figure out what to do. some angst but ends i fluff please

word count: ~3.8k

warnings: slight angst feeling, fluff, e2l, soulmate trope, some heavy petting

an: so there's no argument like the prompt asks (sorry) but when I started writing it just kind of flowed out this way so hopefully it's still okay.

“Go on, show us again,” Ron Weasley was shaking a turkey leg in your general direction, asking to see the words that appeared on your arm this morning. In the wizarding world, on the day you were going to properly meet your soulmate, the first sentence they speak to you, excluding their name, will appear on your forearm in their handwriting.

It was incredibly annoying to you that Ron and Hermione got this mess out of the way the first day on the bloody train. To your and Harry’s amusement, neither were originally excited about the match, but after the chaos that ensued for the four of you by the end of that year they were inseparable. Nothing brings two people closer than tragedy.

Things got even more frustrating for you when Harry and Ginny realized they were soulmates, leaving you the lone wolf in your foursome. Entering your sixth year this year you were hopeful that maybe you would finally be able to find out who your soulmate was, roughly three fourths of those leave Hogwarts knowing who they’re intended to be with, and you would rather Avada Kadavera yourself then leave your seventh year soulmateless.

You grabbed the sleeve of your jumper, tugging it up to your elbow, sticking your arm out in the middle of the table for your three friends to view. There on your arm read a singular sentence, do I intimidate you, love?

Hermione sat back on the bench, “His handwriting really is awful, whoever he is.” You scoffed at your friend, “Not exactly my biggest concern, Mione. More worried about why he thinks he would intimidate me? Who would even think that? By this point in our school life you’d think any of us were more intimidating than the majority of the student body.”

“Yeah, except Slytherin,” Harry snorted, Ron following with his own round of laughter. But you weren’t laughing, you were looking at Hermione who was sporting the same grimace and worried eyes that you were sure your face looked like.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then looked at the two of you. “It was a joke, y/n/n,” Harry tried to ease the tension that was building. “Yeah, I mean, y’don't really think your soulmate might be…one of them,” Ron was anything but subtle with his tone of disgust, as well as his entire body turning around to face the Slytherin table.

Ron’s actions didn’t go unnoticed by a particular group of Slytherin boys. “Staring problem, Weasley? Got a crush?” Malfoy shouted across the dining hall, earning laughs and teasing hollars from his friends.

“Oi, Malfoy, got a present for you,” you stuck your hand in your school bag, pretending to roam around before pulling your hand back out and lifting it high in the air, giving Malfoy the middle finger. His face immediately turned into a scowl. The boy next to him, however, pretended to catch your gesture in the air and put it in his pocket, winking at you in the process.

You rolled your eyes, turning to Hermione who had a look of disgust on her face, “Riddle’s ego really is massive innit.” All three of your friends' heads began to nod. “I swear if he didn’t verbalize how much he bloody hated us I would think he was flirting with you y/n/n.”

“Shut it, Weasley, don’t you put that on me,” you pointed your finger at him, tone joking but words serious. He put his hands up in defense, laughing along with the rest of your friends as you all gathered your things and headed towards your first class.

Unbeknownst to you, a similar conversation was being had at the Slytherin table. “Glad to see meeting your soulmate hasn’t deterred you from trying to flirt with anything that breathes,” Pansy took a sip of her pumpkin juice, teasing the curly haired boy across from her.

“Dunno what you mean, Pans,” the dimples on Mattheo’s cheeks popping out as he smirked.

“Show us your arm again, cousin,” Draco’s words causing everyone to look at Mattheo now. The younger boy scowled, rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt. There on his arm, in beautiful loopy script were the words you’ve got to be fucking joking.

Theo couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a foul word in such pretty handwriting.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, pulling his sleeve back down, “Yeah, well let’s just hope the bird is someone I can tolerate.”

You let out a long groan, hands rubbing up and down your face as you leaned your elbows on your knees . Hermione was sat next to you in the common room, rubbing up and down your back, “The day’s not over quite yet, y/n/n. It wouldn’t appear if you weren’t gonna meet them today.”

“Yeah,” Ron put on his best attempt at an encouraging smile, “maybe they’re another Gryffindor and you’ll meet them before we go to bed.” Harry nodded next to him in agreement.

You stood up, grabbing your jumper off the arm of the couch and throwing it on, “M’gonna go for a walk.”

Hermione’s lips downturned, “It’s nearly curfew.” You sighed, looking over at Harry. “I’ll go get my cloak,” he sighed, standing and walking quickly to his dorm room.

After Harry’s return you thanked him, spending an extra twenty minutes convincing Hermione that you would be the utmost cautious and affirmed to Ron that you would stash the cloak if you were to be caught.

Now you were quietly climbing the stairs to the astronomy tower. When you got to the top, you did a quick look over the railing. With no sign of Filch anywhere you dropped the cloak, laying it on the floor so you didn’t have to sit on the bare ground.

As you got comfortable you dug in your shirt, pulling out a spliff. Hermione would murder you if she found out you smoked, however the year you all had to study for your O.W.L’s, you were so stressed you ended up buying from Theo Nott.

He promised to keep it to himself and you promised it was a one time thing, but you found yourself buying from him every couple months. You weren't sure if she would be more disappointed in your smoking, or you interacting with someone in the forbidden Slytherin group.

You mumbled a short incendio before taking a long drag. You blew the smoke out slowly, watching it ripple through the air and up into the night sky. You looked up at the stars, knowing the day was likely to be over soon and wondering if you were the only witch that was destined to not run into their soulmate like everyone else.

You were lost in your thoughts and self pity. So much so you didn’t even hear someone come up the tower steps until they hit the top. You scrambled to your feet, ready to cover yourself with the cloak when you realized it wasn’t Filch, but a boy instead.

The dark of the night made it difficult for you to see exactly who it was at first, that and the fact that every time he took a step forward you seemed to take a step back until your back was against the stone wall. When he finally stepped into the light, your breath caught in your throat. Standing in front of you, signature smirk adoring his face was Mattheo Riddle.

You stayed rigid against the wall as he got closer to you. His fingers brushed yours as he took the spliff, bringing it up to his lips and inhaling. His eyes never left yours as he turned his head slightly, blowing the smoke into the night. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your black sleep shorts and house jumper. When he looked at your face again he locked eyes with you, almost like he was trying to read what was going on in your brain.

“Do I intimidate you, love?” The words seemed to leave his lips without a second thought and you felt like your chest was going to cave in. There was just no way, absolutely bloody not that he said those words, the words you had been anticipating someone to say all day. Him of all people that could’ve spoken them.

He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly looking for you to answer. Instead of some sputtering response of nervousness like Mattheo was expecting, your face just dropped.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Mattheo’s face went white after you responded, and that was all the evidence you needed to confirm that Mattheo fucking Riddle was your soulmate. He hated you. You hated him. How could two people that despise each other be destined to be soulmates?

"What are you even doing up here?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting into your hip. His smirk only seemed to grow, "I think the better question is what are you doing up here, partaking in drugs no less? Little miss golden girl."

You rolled your eyes, "What's that supposed to mean, Riddle?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, "It's Mattheo. And you know what it means. Wonder what everyone would think if they knew little miss perfect liked to come up to the astronomy tower to get high."

"Why would anyone believe you over me?" You were acting a little cocky now, but Mattheo was right in the aspect that you and your friends were seen in an overall more positive light than he and his.

However the look on Mattheo's face made you think he knew something you didn't, "I guess I could just have your dealer tell everyone, or are you buying from someone besides Nott these days?"

He was irritating you on purpose now. You grabbed the spliff back from Mattheo, going to sit where you were before but now leaning your forehead against the railing, “This is got to be some kind of mistake.”

Mattheo could only snicker as he went to sit next to you, hanging his arms over the raining as he looked over the grounds, “S’destiny love, no mistake about it.”

“Thanks so much, you’re being really encouraging about this whole thing,” you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out to him. He took it from you, filling his lungs with smoke again, passing it back and forth throughout the conversation.

Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, “At least we’re both fit.” You snorted at this, “Who said I thought you were fit?” He scoffed, “Please, I’ve seen the way you ogle me.” You found yourself laughing, a true full belly head thrown back laugh before you looked at him and he thought the smile you were wearing was actually kind of cute, “How would you know that unless you were ogling me, hmm?”

Mattheo opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse before you were speaking again. The sigh you let out let him know how stressed you really were, “Our friends are not going to like this.”

He nodded, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke, “Merlin, no. They’re going to bloody hate it. But s’not like it was really our choice.” You knew he was right, and you knew he was trying to be comforting, but the tone in his voice let you know that he was just as worried to let his group of friends know as much as you were.

You opened your mouth to respond to him when you heard the all too familiar jingle of Mrs. Norris’ collar sounding like she was ascending the stairs. Your eyes grew wide as you and Mattheo both jumped to your feet. It looked like Mattheo is contemplating jumping over the tower railing when you grab his arm to push him flat against the stone wall.

He looked at you with utter confusion as you grabbed the cloak before turning around and pushing your back flush against his chest. “What are you-”

“Shut it,” you cut him off, indicating to him to wrap his arms around your waist as you threw the cloak over the pair of you. As the cat walked on to the tower landing you felt Mattheo’s arms tighten around you, doing his best to pull you impossibly closer.

He was decently taller than you, having to duck down slightly so the cloak covered you both properly. His face was tucked in close to your neck. His breath warm and tickling your skin as Filch followed after his beloved pet, glancing around for anything out of place.

When he was satisfied, Filch turned around to leave, letting his cat lead the way. You waited a few beats, making sure they were nearly to the bottom of the staircase before pulling the cloak off the two of you and pushing Mattheo’s hands off of your body.

“Thing comes in handy, that,” he pointed to the cloth in your hand. You chucked, “Yeah, m’sure your lot would get a lot less detentions if you had one.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Yeah, we can’t all be like the golden quartet.”

You scoffed slightly at this as you headed down the stairs, Mattheo close behind you, “We didn’t give ourselves that nickname, you know.” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah but m’sure you all don’t mind it. Definitely gets you some favoritism.”

You stopped at the end of the corridor, Mattheo running into your back at the action and cursing. You turned to face him, “You know, my friends and I have endured a hell of a lot of shite over the last couple years, maybe we deserve a little break when we’re actually able to do normal bloody teenage things.”

As much as you were trying to be harsh with him, be the slightest bit intimidating, his height gave him all the advantage. Mattheo knew what you meant, what you were saying without saying the words themselves. “I’m not like him. Don’t clump me in your same category of hatred. He’s done things to me too,” his eyes reflected a bit of hurt as he spoke and you knew he was telling the truth.

Everyone in school assumed Mattheo was just like his father, held the same ideals and wanted the same things for the wizarding world. The look you were seeing on his face told you otherwise. Your frustration quickly fizzled, instead turning into something closer to pity, “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he deadpanned, “Let’s just get back to our common rooms.” You walked together in silence until you had no choice but to split off. You agreed to meet each other in the courtyard during lunch the next day and you were racking your brain on how you were going to break this news to Harry, Hermione and Ron.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. When you broke the news to your friends about who your soulmate ended up being it wasn’t exactly well received. Hermione was worried, but understanding of the fact that you had no choice in the matter. Harry was upset, but again was trying his best to be mature and said he wouldn’t interfere with you spending some time with Mattheo to get to know him better. Ron took it the worst, which you wished surprised you but he did have a flair for the dramatics.

You were first waiting for Mattheo on a bench in the courtyard, but you couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing, therefore you found a place beneath a tree, attempting to read the same three lines of a book Hermione had loaned you the other day.

When Mattheo found you and finally sat down next to you, you shut your book immediately, letting out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank Godric, you’re here.” It didn’t go unnoticed by you the way a pair of dimples christened his cheeks, “Miss me already, pretty girl? S’barely been twelve hours.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, trying to resist the pink that tinted your cheeks at the nickname he used, “Not at all, I’ve been sitting here for the better part of twenty minutes, mind you. Thought maybe you decided to ditch me.” Mattheo shrugged, “M’always late. You’re gonna have to get used to that. And I would never ditch you, we’re soulmates, love. You’re stuck with me for life.”

He had a childlike grin on his face when he said that latter part and you couldn’t help the slight notion of butterflies that seemed to flutter in your stomach or the smile that appeared on your face.

All last night you thought it was going to be difficult to fall for Mattheo, but maybe the universe knew something when it paired you two together.

“So how did your friends take the news?” You tried to keep voice neutral, but you really were worried about their responses. Mattheo leaned back against the tree, “They were shocked for sure, Draco took it the hardest. He was more worried about having to spend more time with Potter than me being with you though. Told him that would probably be more rare than he anticipated. W’bout yours?”

You nodded, “Not as bad as I thought, actually. Mione was understanding, as always. Harry was actually pretty good about it, but very skeptical. Ron actually took it the worst, but he’s just protective. Basically like me brother.”

“How d’ya mean?”

You leaned back against the tree yourself, shoulder to shoulder now with Mattheo. You could feel the heat radiating off of him and you wondered if his skin was always warm to the touch, “Both my parents are aurors so they travel a lot. They didn’t think it was safe for me to go with them, so Ron’s mum offered for me to stay at theirs whenever it was needed. Turns out it was needed more times than not growing up.”

Mattheo nodded, listening intently as you spoke. You both started asking surface questions about each other; favorite color (he said black), favorite hobby (quidditch), favorite class (free period).

When both your friend groups came looking for you after lunch period Mattheo asked if you would go to Hogsmead with him over the weekend. You agreed, finding yourself wanting to get to know more about him. Over the next two months you went to Hogsmead with Mattheo at least one day during each weekend.

You slowly learned that his favorite candy was fizzing whizbees, having to stop at Honeydukes every trip for him to grab some. You learned that he was actually very intelligent even though he tried to seem like he wasn't, as he was passing all of his classes even though he skipped half of them. You learned that even though Draco was older than him, he felt like an older brother to his cousin. And maybe your favorite thing that you learned, purely on accident, was that if you squeeze just above his hip that he was incredibly ticklish.

Throughout all of this you still hadn’t kissed. You kept telling yourself (and your friends) that you didn’t want to, but the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for it. There were times of lingering touches; his hand on your lower back as he guided you into a building, his fingertips brushing yours as you walked, his leg pressing against yours while you sat next to each other in the courtyard or at the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione, the ever observant friend that she was, noticed your shift in attitude towards Mattheo even before you did. So when she cornered you in the common room, demanding you tell her your true feelings it was almost a relief to let it all out.

“I think I might actually like him, Mione. Like, I know that sounds like something an insane person would say, that they like Mattheo Riddle, like romantically, like someone who isn’t just some daft bimbo, but there's just so much more to him that he lets people see.”

Hermione can’t help but laugh, “I get what you mean. Harry and Ron are coming around, you know. They see how happy you look when you’re with him.”

You tilt your head slightly at this, “What do you mean how happy I look?”

Hermione just shakes her head with a smile, “Like you’re with your person.” You can’t escape the blush that creeps up your neck and covers your cheeks. Hermione’s giggling at you now, “Have you still not kissed him yet?”

You scoffed, “Godric, no.” She pushed your shoulder playfully, “Well why not, y/n/n? Don’t you want to?”

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers, “I mean…I think so? But he just hasn’t really…gone for it, you know?”

She nodded in solidarity, “Oh I know, trust me. I had to make the first move with Ronald. Maybe you have to do the same thing?”

You contemplated her words. They invaded a space in your brain for the rest of the night, then the rest of the next morning, and through dinner, and even now as you stood leaning against the railing in the astronomy tower waiting for Mattheo to meet you.

When you heard him coming up the steps you turned only to see him with the sweetest smile on his face. “Hey pretty girl,” he greeted as he enveloped you in a hug. “Hi, Teo,” you had donned the nickname on him your third or so time at Hogsmead. He gave you a good squeeze before letting go, his arms still lingering on your waist with yours around his neck, “What’d you wanna talk about?”

His question was innocent, no implications in his voice that he expected anything beyond you wanting to see him. With Hermione’s advice in the back of your head you knew you needed to just act, as any more talking might lead to you psyching yourself out.

You slid your hands down from his neck, grasping lightly to the lapel of his blazer. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the action, the smallest of smirks on his face.

Without giving yourself time to overthink you pull him into you, lips crashing against yours. He’s shocked at first, but just for a moment before he responds, walking you back until you’re pressed against the stone wall.

One of his hands slides up your body, ghosting over your stomach and the valley of your breasts before settling lightly on your neck. The implication of the hand gesture makes you whimper slightly and Mattheo takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly at the curls.

When he finally pulls away you find yourself chasing his lips and he smiled at the reaction. “I think I could kiss you forever,” his forehead is resting against yours, lips still so close you can feel his breath on your own. “Yeah?” you laugh a little, smile only increasing when he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Yeah, pretty girl. Forever.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #golden era #harry potter

4K notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 4 days

Text

EVEN IF IT TAKES FOREVER

A/N: aaaah im so excited for yall to read this!!! im kinda ashamed to admit this whole idea came from something i heard in an ep of milf manor but lets just move past that lol

WORD COUNT: 9k

WARNING: sexual content, toxic and verbally abusive relationship, cheating (not from Harry or Y/N)

SUMMARY: Harry Styles is used to get any woman he wants, everyone knows that. But when his interest shifts towards you, everything changes and he is ready to wait for you for as long as it takes, even when he finds out you're engaged to your asshole boyfriend. Not even that ring on your finger stops him from pining after you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You don’t have to look up from the drink you’re making to know who just walked into the bar. It’s like the atmosphere of the whole place shifts instantly whenever Harry Styles appears, a sixth sense always triggers a siren in your head before your eyes could spot him crossing the space between the entrance and the bar.

You’d be lying if you said you felt no excitement every time he shows up, the way your heart starts hammering in your chest is a great tell that he is anything but neutral to you, but you’ve been trying your absolute best to keep yourself under control. For one, he is known to be a flirt. Every woman in town knows that Harry loves three things, attention, pretty women and the combination of the previous two. You’ve seen him around with different partners every time, but never with the same twice. You heard the stories, the gossips and the whispers, how he shakes every woman’s world and then leaves, never giving the chance for anyone to even try to tie him down. This is not what you want or deserve.

And for two… You’re taken. Engaged, to be precise.

When you spot Harry you instantly hide your hand behind your back, hoping the diamond ring won’t catch his eyes, because you know he would flip.

Apparently, his latest fixation has been none other than you. He came into the bar about two months ago for the first time. He sat by the bar and clearly tried to flirt with you all evening, ignoring all the women who were brave enough to go up to him. He remained focused on you and as the evening carried on he became more and more blunt about his intentions with you.

“So, are you coming home with me?” he asked when you walked out at the end of your shift. He was waiting by the back, leaning against his motorcycle. You were never blind, you saw how attractive he was then and you still see it now, but you just shook your head no.

“I’m taken.”

“You got a boyfriend?” He arched an eyebrow and you nodded. You expected him to give up, but instead, a devilish smirk took over his expression. “It’ll be even sweeter when I win you over, Angel.”

You were taken aback by his confidence and you were surprised when he showed up the next day, but got used to his presence quite fast.

It became a sort of usual, have him walk in not long after your shift starts, he sits by the bar so he can talk to you, he drinks one or two beers and then asks if he could take you home once you’re done. You decline and then it starts all over again.

An unexpected feature of his never dying attempts is that you’ve actually got to know each other during those long hours when he sat by the bar and entertained you while you worked and when he drops the cheeky act he is actually someone not just bearable but rather pleasant. You’d never admit it to him, but you kind of think of him as a friend, you’ve shared some things with him about yourself not many know.

Like how you found out your boyfriend cheated on you.

“You look stunning, as always, Angel,” he greets you as he takes his usual spot and you’re already pouring his drink.

“And you’re being flirty, as always,” you give him a knowing look, but he just smirks. You give him his beer and then move over to another man by the bar.

When you return you notice the change in him and you know he saw the ring. As if you could still hide it from him, you cover it with your other hand, even though you did nothing wrong.

“What’s that?” he asks, though it’s obvious he knows it’s an engagement ring.

“Harry…”

“He proposed to you?” he asks, eyes snapping up to meet your gaze.

“Yes, he did.”

“And you said yes?” He is clearly growing angrier by the second and you worry, because he tends to lose his temper easily. You don’t think he would ever hurt you, but he might take his anger out on something or someone else.

“Yes, that’s why I’m wearing the ring,” you say and try to keep yourself busy, moving the clean glasses in front of you around.

“Y/N what the fuck?! You can’t be fucking serious.”

“I am and it’s none of your business,” you snap at him.

“The guy cheated on you!”

“Would you stop airing my private life for everyone?” you hiss at him, looking around to see if anyone has heard him.

“Then explain to me how you are so stupid that you want to marry a man who doesn’t love you?!”

You’ve had enough. Checking if there is anyone waiting to be served you find no one so you walk out from behind the bar and grab Harry’s wrist, pulling him out through the back door to the empty parking lot behind the building.

“Who do you think you are? You have no right to talk about me or my relationship like that!”

“Y/N, you are making a huge fucking mistake!”

“A mistake would be trusting someone about dating who has never stayed with a woman for longer than a couple of hours! What the fuck do you know about love or marriage when you can’t even stay until the morning when you fuck someone?”

It might be petty, bringing up his reputation against him just to invalidate his words, but he brought the worst out of you.

“Because I don’t fucking lie to women about what I want! Your man lied right into your face and then only admitted to cheating when he was busted. You think he wouldn’t do it again? You think he is not doing it now? Cheaters don’t change, Y/N. He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

“And you do?” you snap at him as your anger takes over your body. Maybe it’s because he brought up what Jeremy did or maybe it’s because he is lecturing you about something he has no right to stick his nose into. “Let me guess, I should ditch Jeremy and run to you? We fuck, have one great night and then leave me like you leave everyone, is that what I should go for? Is that what I deserve?”

He seems to be at a loss of words and that’s new. He probably wasn’t expecting you to call him out so explicitly, but it’s been building up for a while.

“Do me a favor and stop trying to orchestrate my life. I’m more than capable of making my own decisions. Go and chat up another woman, fuck her so you stop trying to stick your dick inside me.”

You walk past him and straight inside, your rage doesn’t die down for a couple of long minutes. You take a few orders and then slowly get back to the workflow and manage to forget about Harry for a bit. When you glance towards his spot you see that his beer is still there, but he never returned. For a second you get uncertain, have you gone too far?

No. He deserved it and everything you said was valid. It’s not your fault he can’t take the truth.

Two days pass by and you see no trace of Harry. You find yourself looking at his usual seat from time to time and you mistake a few tall brunette guys with him, but he never actually shows up. You tell yourself you should be happy he is out of your hair, but somewhere deep inside you there’s still some disappointment that you try to push down every time it threatens to bubble up.

Sunday comes and it doesn’t start off the best. Jeremy is in a mood all morning and he just practically picks a fight over anything you do. It’s whether what you cook, where you put the scissors or how you forget to lock the backdoor, he overreacts everything and by the time you’re leaving for work you’re a mess from all the fighting you’ve had.

Being away from him is actually a bit of a relief, but your peace only lasts until he starts texting you and somehow you end up fighting again, this time about the outfit you wore to work. A simple black skirt with a white t-shirt, you’ve worn this before and he didn’t even notice, but today it seems like the skirt is too short for his taste and the shirt is too see-through.

JEREMY: Enjoy the attention of every fucking men in the bar.

JEREMY: Congrats on being a slut.

You’re angry at him, but you’re also too tired to run around in circles. When he sets his mind on something nothing can change it, so there’s no use trying to convince him you’re not doing it to get other men’s attention.

You put your phone aside and ignore it for a while, but apparently, that wasn’t the right decision. Because the next time you check it you see a bunch of missed calls from Jeremy and another thread of texts.

JEREMY: Answer the fucking phone Y/N.

JEREMY: Are you fucking someone in the toilet?

JEREMY: If I find out you fucked someone you’re dead I swear.

There’s only twenty minutes left until closing and the bar is almost entirely empty, so you step out to the back and call him.

“Are you done fucking?” That’s what he says when he finally picks up.

“Are you done being an asshole? I’m not fucking anyone!”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! I know you’re sucking dicks for tips, don’t even try to lie to my fucking face!”

He is vivid, shouting on the other end of the line and it’s making your head throb. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with his unreasonable jealousy right now. All you want to do is go to sleep, but you know if you go home you’ll just continue from here.

“I’m not lying, you’re delusional!”

“Stop with the fucking lies! Don’t fucking come home until you can’t admit the shit you’re doing! I will not have a woman lie into my face!”

“What the hell are you talking about? You can’t tell me not to go home, that’s my place too!”

“I’m sure you can find a place to sleep if you suck another dick.”

And with that the call ends. You’re staring at the screen in disbelief for several moments before the tears start rolling down your face. You lean against the brick wall and slide down as you let the sobs bubble from your throat. You try to call him again, but it doesn’t even ring.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you bury your face in your hands.

You always kept telling yourself Jeremy has a temper and that he doesn’t mean it when he says these nasty things, but every time it happens again it gets harder and harder to believe that you could put up with it. You get that it roots in his jealousy, but he shouldn’t act like this with you, you know it’s not normal and yet… you still haven’t been able to do anything against it.

You’re so buried under your pain that you don’t even notice the motorcycle that rolls into the parking lot and stops just a couple of feet away from you. Harry’s voice is what snaps you out of your spiral.

“Y/N? What are you doin–Hey, what happened?”

He rushes over and kneels in front of you, one hand on your back as the other lifts your head by your chin.

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, as if he couldn’t see your tear soaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“No, you’re not. What happened? Did someone hurt you?” Seemingly he is trying to find wounds on you, but you shake your head.

“It’s just… I-I don’t…” You can’t get the words out, it’s like your mind is blocked.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

He helps you up and you don’t protest when his arms curl around you and he keeps you close to his chest as he walks you inside. He pulls you to the stool he usually takes and makes you sit before walking behind the bar and pouring you a glass of water.

“I need to close,” you croak and try to get off the stool, but he stops you.

“I’ll take care of it.”

You faintly hear him making the last few people in the bar leave and then the lock turns on the door before he returns and sits beside you.

“Now tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk,” you breathe out as you close your eyes. When you open them again, Harry is still there looking at you patiently.

Then he stands and walks back behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the shelf along with two shot glasses.

“Alright. Then let’s drink the pain away.” He pours the liquor into the glasses and then pushes one over to you, holding up the other one. For a second you just blink at him, a warning going off somewhere in the back of your head, but you’re quick to turn it off.

Drinking the pain away actually sounds nice right now, since you can’t go home until Jeremy is having his episode.

So you finally take the shot and you catch a tiny smile from Harry before you both chug down the alcohol. And soon more follows, at least on your side.

About thirty minutes and three more shots later you’re definitely drunk. But at least you stopped crying and can actually laugh now, practically on anything Harry says.

“Oh my God, stop!” you cackle, slapping your hand onto the bartop.

“No, I swear! I climbed out the window and fell straight into the jacuzzi!”

“Did her father see you?”

“No, I would be dead by now if he did?” he chuckles.

“I can’t believe you were such a playboy even as a teenager!” you keep laughing.

“What, are you surprised?” he cheekily asks.

“Honestly, not that much,” you snort and reach for the tequila bottle, but Harry pulls it away from you. “Hey!”

“Maybe let’s slow down a bit, yeah?” You pout at him, but he just grabs a normal glass from behind the bar, fills it with water and hands it over to you instead.

“What, you’re not up for a bit of fun?” you grin into the glass, but take a few sips anyway. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I do want to have fun with you, Y/N. But I’m also concerned at how fast you downed those shots,” he admits smirking.

“Ah, how sweet of you, as if you don’t just want to take me to bed,” you scoff, but you didn’t mean it in a bitter way this time, like before. “Isn’t it tiring?”

“What is?”

“Ah, don’t make me say it!”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel.”

“Angel!” you groan and then let out a sigh. “Aren’t you tired of running after me? I mean, you’re used to getting your way with women. Honestly, I thought you’d stop by now.”

Harry just stares back at you and it gets intimidating, especially when a smirk curls the corners of his mouth up. Your cheeks already feel quite hot, but now they are burning. You always hated how bothered he could get you despite all your effort to reject him in every possible way.

Just when you think he’d ignore what you said forever, he finally speaks up.

“Would you believe me if I said it’s because you’re different?”

“Oh no, don’t give me this bullshit!” you scoff and then just laugh it off. You change position on the stool and try to cover up just how much his words affect you.

Because it might have been the corniest thing you’ve heard from him, but you’re also just a girl who’s a hopeless romantic and this is exactly the stuff that can turn you into a giggly mess in a heartbeat.

“Why is it your first instinct that I’m just bullshitting you, Y/N?” he asks, but he is not at all accusing, more like curious. You purse your lip, but decide not to say anything, just sip on your water. Harry walks out from behind the bar and takes the stool next to yours. “I think you don’t know your real worth, Y/N.”

“And you do?” you roll your eyes at him teasingly.

“I would love to, but as long as you don’t let me get closer to you, I can only work with what I see. I know you probably think I’m just lying to get into your pants, but if there’s one thing you should know about me is that I’m always telling the truth. I’d been lied to before, many times and I know what it does to you, so I would never do the same to you or anyone.”

“Is this your way of buttering me up?” you smirk, but narrow your eyes at him. Your wording makes him laugh.

“Of course.”

“Ah, you are so smooth, I hate that about you! And I hate how handsome you are.”

Oops. That’s definitely the alcohol talking, you’d have never admitted that to him sober. You catch the surprised smirk on his face and you immediately regret opening your mouth.

“So you think I’m handsome, huh?”

“Oh shut up! I can see your head getting big!” You point at him, but he grabs your hand in the air and tugs at you gently, just enough to make you hop off your stool and fall towards him. He catches you by the waist as you end up between his legs, your hands end up on his chest as you try to find your balance.

“I would love to hear you say how handsome you find me, but just know, that you’re playing with my self restraint.”

Even despite the shots, you can feel the switch, your breathing becomes shallow and you make the mistake of letting your eyes move down to his lips for a moment. His fingers dig into your waist and though you know you should move your hands, you love how you can feel his warmth under your palms.

“Do you want to tell me what happened earlier? Why were you crying?”

“Jeremy,” you say in a whisper.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Just… with his words.”

“That’s still not okay, don’t downplay it. What did he say?”

A small voice in you is telling you not to tell him more, but his undivided attention and care towards you feels so good, it’s something you haven’t experienced in a while. Jeremy is different, he is not the soft type and though you’ve been telling yourself it’s fine, you can’t deny how much you’ve been craving this kind of connection with someone.

“He accused me of cheating, that I… I suck people off for money.”

Harry’s hands stiffen on your waist, but he stays silent and gives you the chance to talk. You can feel your throat closing up again and your instinct is to close up, but you want to take this weight off your chest in any way possible, so you don’t hold yourself back.

“It wasn’t the first time he flipped, sometimes he just… loses his mind and takes his frustration out, often on me.”

“Has he ever hit you?” Harry asks in a somewhat cool tone, but you can tell he is holding a lot back.

“No,” you shake your head. “But his words… He called me a slut tonight.”

Harry exhales sharply and you see his jaw jumping. Your reasonable self is pounding down the door of the room you shut it into, but you blatantly ignore it as you push closer to him. It’s your first time being this close to him physically and you want to hate it, you really do, but truth is you feel yourself being pulled towards him and you’re just too tired and weak to fight it.

When one of his hands moves to cup your cheek you’re ready to give in. You part your lips and give him an unmistakable look and you expect him to take advantage of the moment, but he surprises you by turning his head to the side with a heavy sigh.

“Is it not what you want?” you ask quietly, trying your best to ignore just how rejected you’re feeling all of a sudden.

“You know it is,” he replies, turning back to face you. “I want you more than anything.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He shakes his head and your stomach sinks. You try to pull away, but he keeps you caged against him.

“Hey, look at me.” His hand captures your chin to make you look at him, but you keep your gaze away from him. “Y/N, look at me,” he pleads again and you give in at last.

His thumb slowly runs across your bottom lip, making it tremble from the intimacy of his touch.

“This is all I’ve wanted since I first saw you and it’s taking everything in me not to take it. But I know you and I know that you would regret it. I would never put you in a situation that could hurt you.”

You hate how right he is, how well he knows you.

“So considerate, respecting the… bro code and everything,” you huff, hoping to break this weird mood that’s lingering around the two of you now. Harry’s head falls back as he laughs. Then he grabs your hand that has your engagement ring on and with a confident move he takes it off, throwing it over his shoulder and you just watch with your mouth hanging open.

“I give zero fucks about the bro code, especially if it’s about that asshole you call your fiancé.”

“Did you just–”

“What I do care about is,” he continues, “you. And how you feel.”

Your mind is racing but also blank at the same time. You just stare back at him, eyes drooping as the alcohol is starting to wear you out.

“So what, you’re just gonna wait around, hoping I will wake up one day and leave Jeremy for you?” you ask jokingly, but his answer comes in a serious manner.

“Exactly.”

There are a couple of seconds when the two of you are just staring back at each other and you swear you can see the universe in his green eyes, the past, the present and a future together and as much as it scares you, it also starts a fire somewhere deep in your chest.

“Can you–um, can you give me a ride to my sister’s place?” Clearing your throat you pull away and this time he lets you.

“Sure.”

You sit on his motorcycle behind him, arms wrapped around his torso tight as you watch the night lights pass by, blinking lazily, his scent filling your nose every time you press your cheek against his back. When he stops in front of your sister’s apartment’s building you almost ask him to just drive for a bit more, but you force yourself to let go of him and climb off the motorcycle.

“Thanks for… everything, I guess,” you awkwardly say while he is still sitting on the bike.

“Take an Advil before you go to bed.”

“Okay, stop babying me,” you laugh and he finally breaks into a smirk. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

It’s a simple question, but the obvious hidden question is right there, out in the open. It’s your way of asking if he’ll be returning to the bar despite the fight you had a few days ago.

“Of course. Keep my seat open.”

Nodding you’re about to turn around and walk inside, but he calls after you.

“Y/N?” You look over your shoulder, waiting for him to continue. He opens his mouth, then closes before actually speaking up. “You don’t have to believe that my interest in you is genuine. I will gladly prove it to you any way possible, but… Maybe you should look at Jeremy with the same criticism as well.”

You have no idea what to say so you just nod and then keep walking until you’re inside the building, but you stay leaning against the door until you hear his motorcycle roar up and fade into the night.

You’d love to say that after the night with Harry at the bar everything changed, but that’s not true. The next day you went back home, Jeremy calmed down by then, you had a fight nonetheless, which ended up with some makeup sex, but your head was somewhere else.

Or with somebody else.

Then it all went back to the same usual. Harry was there at the bar the next time you were working and luckily he didn’t bring up anything that happened that night. Not what you said about Jeremy, not that you practically admitted being attracted to him and not that you gave him the green light which he rejected. It’s all locked up in a box and put aside.

However you can feel a slight change in yourself. Harry’s words did stick with you and have been on repeat ever since.

Maybe you should look at Jeremy with the same criticism as well.

You and Jeremy have been together for over three years and moved in together a year ago. You can’t really remember a time you haven’t been with him. You do know that he is not perfect and the shit he pulls sometimes…

You’ve thought of leaving him before. It did occur to you that maybe you’d be better off without him when he flipped in the past and turned crazy out of the blue. But every time it happened, he went back to his sweet old self, the one you fell in love with.

But are you still in love with him?

One day, about a week later Harry waltzes into the bar, but he is not looking his usual, confident self.

“Okay, hear me out before you say no,” he starts as he takes his spot while you’re drying off some glasses. “I know you might find it hard to believe, but I have friends.”

“We are off to a great start,” you chuckle.

“My best mate, Mitch, he lives two hours away so we don’t meet that often, but he is in town this weekend.”

“Good for him,” you smile, curious about what will come out of it.

“And we were talking about what we should do and all that and I made a mistake. He suggested this club we could check out and said we should meet there at nine but I asked him to make it ten thirty, because on thursdays you finish work at ten.”

Your hand stops mid-motion and you put the glass down, giving him a curious look as you tilt your head to the side.

“Obviously he wanted to know who you were and I swear I told him we have nothing going on, but he is just so stubborn, he didn’t let it go until I promised I would ask if you wanted to come with us. So here I am, I asked, you can just ignore it and tell me to fuck off. I know you probably wouldn’t want to spend the night in a random club with me and my friend and his wife, so if you just–”

“I’ll go with you.”

Your reply surprises him the most of course, but yourself as well, though you don’t let it show. You spoke before you could think it through and not that it was said out loud and you can’t take it back… You don’t really mind it at all, to be honest.

“Are you trying to mess with me right now?” he asks, leaning closer, examining you with a narrow-eyed look.

“No. I haven’t gone out in forever actually, so I would love to.”

He stares back at you for a long moment, looking for any sign that might tell him you’re just joking, but when he sees none, he decides it’s better to just accept it.

“Okay. Okay, then… I’ll, umm… I’ll pick you up after work?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you say after him, feeling entertained that you could surprise the always so confident Harry Styles. “So tell me about this friend of yours. Is he hotter than you?”

His expression changes in an instant, the cockiness returns and there is the man you know and…

“He wishes,” Harry laughs. “I met him through work.”

The apartment is silent when you arrive home that night. Jeremy is working the night shift so you have the place for yourself until he comes home at around four in the morning. The bed is unmade in the bedroom, the plates he used during the day are in the sink and the hamper is full of his clothes. It’s all waiting for you to get everything done even though you work just as much as he does. It wasn’t always like this, you remember the honeymoon phase when he would cook for you and then clean up after, when he would bring you flowers for no particular reason.

When he would actually act like someone who loves you.

With a heavy sigh you get to work even though you just finished. When the dishes are done and the washing machine is loaded you finally sink into the couch and just sit in silence for a bit. Right until a buzzing sound interrupts your peace. Only then you notice that Jeremy left his phone on the coffee table.

Grabbing it you check the screen and see that one of his buddies is calling. The name flashes and you wait for it to stop. When he does, you just keep holding the phone, staring at your own reflection in the black screen.

Jeremy never lets his phone out of his hands, he takes it with him into the bathroom and he is always on it. Tapping on the screen the device comes to life and asks for a password. He never felt comfortable using face ID or his finger print, so he only uses a password to lock it. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve seen him type it out so many times that you actually figured out what it is.

No, it’s not your name or the date you met. It’s his favorite line of his favorite movie.

I am Ironman.

Before you could think twice, you type it in, no space, capital I in Ironman and then the phone unlocks. A rush of excitement washes over you as you open the messages in an instant and start scrolling through them.

Texts from his dad, from his boss, from his friends and texts from…

Andrea.

And Penelope.

And Bella.

And Riley.

Unmistakable messages, photos and even voice memos. It’s all there and you just keep scrolling and reading and it feels like it never ends. When you get to the end of one thread you find another. It’s not just one woman, but about a dozen. Not even you can turn a blind eye over it this time.

But surprisingly, you don’t feel like you want to scream or cry or punch the wall. Instead, you just put the phone back where it was, walk into the bedroom, grab a bag and start packing some stuff you’ll need for the next few days. When you’re done you walk into the kitchen, grab a paper and leave him a note.

You have two days to move out. Take your shit and move to Andrea or Penelope or Bella or any of your bitches. Goodbye.

Then you take the ring off your finger, place it next to the paper and walk out.

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he arrived to pick you up after your shift. He thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he has ever seen even when you’re wearing a stained shirt after a long day, so it really doesn’t matter to him what you wear.

But when you step out through the back door in your skin tight black dress that’s top sheer enough to tease him with a peek of your black bra underneath.

“Are you gonna just stand there and stare or are we gonna get going?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then he just shakes his head with a laugh as you finally reach him by his bike.

“Let’s get going.”

You hit it off with Mitch and his wife Sarah instantly. It’s like you’ve always known each other and you can’t tell if it pisses Harry off or he just likes to be the victim every time the three of you make a joke at his expense.

Even though it’s a Thursday night, the club is pretty busy, but not the kind that makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because someone is always touching you wherever you go. Harry however stays close to you no matter what, like a guard dog, watching your every move.

It’s giving you butterflies. Especially because he is doing all this even though he doesn’t know about your little secret you will share with him, but you’re waiting for the perfect moment.

You start off in a booth, having a few drinks, talking and having fun and when the DJ starts playing songs that are just too irresistible you and Sarah drag the men to the dance floor. They try to protest, but it doesn’t last long. As gruff as Mitch can look, it’s obvious he is whipped for his wife and would do anything Sarah asks him.

And Harry… Well, the moment he sees you moving to the beat he practically glues himself to you. Though dancing is not your biggest strength, you can definitely follow the rhythm and move your body in a way that’s appealing to the male gaze.

You can tell Harry is trying to keep his cool, but the more he holds himself back, the more you push his buttons. Touching him while dancing, moving in a way that obviously makes him struggle, pressing up against him and then you pull out the big guns when you start grinding on him, when you have your backside pushed against his front. His hand on your stomach twitches when your ass meets his crotch in a not-at-all innocent way and you hear his groan even over the loud music.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” he speaks into your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your spine. You turn your head and your lips almost brush against his as you look at him innocently.

“Not having fun, Harry?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Do you not like it?” You turn around to face him easier, but press your front against his to keep the physical contact on the same level.

“Y/N, you’re… taking it too far,” he warns you, but it just urges you to keep pushing his boundaries. You’re enjoying this way more than you probably should but you are giving yourself the satisfaction this one time. You’re not afraid of asking for his forgiveness later, because you have a feeling he will gladly give it.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, but I might if you don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?”

“Acting like… you’re trying to seduce me.”

“I can’t do that? Why?” It finally brings him to the point where you wanted him to be.

“Because you’re engaged and I’m–” he snaps, but you don’t let him finish.

“Except I’m not.”

You both have stopped moving in the middle of the dancing crowd and Harry is staring at you as if he just saw a ghost. Slowly, you raise up your hand and show him your naked fingers. Reaching up he grabs your hand as if he had to physically touch your ring finger to make sure the ring is not there anymore.

“I ended things with Jeremy and he moved out. I’m single.”

His gaze keeps flicking back and forth between your eyes as he just keeps staring at you, it seems like you broke him and he forgot how to function, but then his expression changes and you read it perfectly.

It’s not enough for him that you and Jeremy broke up. He wants you to give him the green light.

You look down at his lips and think of all the times you fantasized about kissing them and the guilt you felt every time, but now it’s nowhere, pure desire took its place and you’re ready to give in.

You move a hand to the back of his neck and push yourself up, making that first move, but Harry is quick to take over from there. He moves fast as his lips crash down on yours, finally kissing you with the heat of his months long pining and never dying persistence.

You’ve had your fair share of passionate moments in your life before, but nothing compares to the way Harry practically devours you, he’s demanding, dominant and rough, but the more he takes from you the more you’re willing to give until he has everything in you. His hands are holding your face firmly, tilting your head in the perfect angle for him to greedily kiss you until your lips are numb and you’re gasping for air. And when you can’t keep up with his hunger his mouth moves down to your neck, kissing, biting and sucking shamelessly as if you weren’t on a dancefloor at a club. He has one hand move from the back of your neck into your hair, giving it a gentle tug while his other hand makes its way down your body, your ribs, your waist and then it stops on your ass, squeezing it without remorse, earning a moan from you that just riles him up even more.

For a split second you’re convinced he is about to fuck you right then and there in front of all those people. But to your surprise he pulls back, his hand wraps around your wrist and he starts pulling you out of the crowd. At the side he finds Mitch and Sarah dancing and he leans close to his ear. You don’t hear what he says, but judging from the smirk and the way Mitch nods, he didn’t try to sugarcoat anything.

You don’t even get to say goodbye properly, Harry lets go of your wrist, but his arm is quick to curl around your waist as he leads you towards the exit. The cool night air feels refreshing after the heat inside the club, but you don’t get to enjoy the change, Harry is eagerly pulling you towards his motorbike and when you reach it he pushes you against it before kissing you hard again. Your ass is pressed against the seat and for a moment you think it’s about to fall over along with you, but it stays steady while Harry is having his way with you. Then he just simply pulls back and helps you up, making sure you’re holding onto him tightly.

“This will be the longest ten minutes of my life,” he says, making you laugh as he starts the motor and moments later you’re speeding down the streets.

It really is an excruciating ten minutes until you arrive at your place, especially because you keep squeezing your thighs against his, giving him a rather hard time and every time you have to stop at a red light, Harry’s hands are quick to find your naked legs, roaming them shamelessly until he has to hold the handles again and focus on the road.

As soon as he parks in front of the building and you get off the bike, he is back to focusing all his attention on you, so it’s a challenge to even make it up to your apartment. His hands are mapping up every inch of your body and he takes every chance to kiss you on the lips, neck or shoulder, making it almost impossible for you to even open the front door, but at last you manage and he is quick to shut the door and then push you up against it.

But he is not kissing you this time, instead he looks at you with such passion and tenderness at the same time, it makes your whole body shiver.

“Tell me no at any point, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper as a sudden nervousness washes over you. You are not nearly as experienced as he is and sex with Jeremy had been more about his quick relief rather than something you both could enjoy the same amount.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything tonight. Holding you is more than I even hoped for tonight,” he admits with a chuckle and he gives you a short, soft kiss.

“I want to. I just… I’m afraid I won’t be… good enough.”

You’re nervously fidgeting with the neck of his shirt while his hands are plastered to the door behind you either side of you, keeping you caged in with his body.

“Angel, you had me running after you for two months and the past weeks felt like the longest foreplay of my life,” he chuckles. “I should be the one being nervous about coming in ten seconds.”

You can’t help but crack a smile at his words and he did ease your nerves a bit, but you’re still worried. With one hand he caresses the side of your face so softly, you almost question if he is the same man who was groping your ass not long ago in a packed club.

“I doubt you could ever not be good enough for anyone but especially for me.”

Your inside melts and there are no words that could describe the way he is making you feel. But instead of talking, you push yourself against him and kiss him, urging yourself to overcome your insecurities so he doesn’t regret choosing you.

You manage to hype yourself up so well that when you reach your bedroom you pull away and make him stop at the edge of the bed as you stand just a few feet away from him. His eyes roam up and down your body with such hunger you have never seen from a man before and it gives you that last boost to step your game up.

With slow, teasing movements you start to pull your dress up, revealing more and more from your legs, than your underwear and when the fabric is bunched up around your waist you cross your arms, grab the hem and pull it up and over your head before dropping to the floor, all while Harry is eating you up with his eyes, sitting there with the smuggest smirk on his face as he watches you like he is in a movie theater.

“Fucking perfect. Come here,” he holds a hand out that you take and he pulls you between his legs, placing your hands to his shoulders as his palms slide to the back of your thighs. He places a few open mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts before his hands squeeze your thighs, urging you to move your legs and make you straddle him. As you climb to his lap he captures your lips in a toe curling kiss and he catches you by surprise when he flips the two of you over and throws you into the mattress.

He straightens up but just enough to get rid of his shirt, revealing even more tattoos you haven’t seen and a toned chest with abs you’re already burning to touch, kiss or lick. Or all of these above. He comes back down on top of you, his lips return to yours while his hand easily slides underneath you, unclasping your bra and seconds later he is throwing it across the room before his mouth starts moving down your neck, collarbones and then to your chest. You rake your fingers through his hair as his tongue swirls around your nipple and you gasp when he gently bites and tugs on it, flashing you a cheeky smirk when he looks up at you before he keeps moving down on your body. When he reaches your underwear he takes the elastic between his teeth and tugs on it then lets it go so it snaps back against your skin, making you gasp and give him a protesting look, but it just makes him chuckle.

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t wear it for me,” he mumbles against the lacy fabric, skimming it with his lips.

“I did, but not to have you play with it,” you breathe out, however you quite like how playful he can get even in such a heated moment. This is a side of him you’ve gotten to get just a glimpse of but you’re getting the full ride now.

“Alright. Next time then,” he shrugs and hooking his fingers into the elastic he tugs it down as you lift your hips up and soon it joins the rest of your clothes on the floor, leaving you fully naked in front of him. But before you could worry about your looks, his mouth is already on your throbbing clit, making you forget about your whole existence.

He turns you into a whiny mess with his lips and tongue in just seconds and when he adds his fingers into the equation all you can do is repeat his name like a prayer to all powers above. You’ve never experienced anything like this, not that anyone you’d been with did it the way Harry is. Before you could even process what’s happening you’re coming on his face and he is licking up every drop of it in every possible sense.

Your body already feels like jelly when he moves back up and he kisses you with your own taste still on his tongue, but he is not even nearly done with you.

He kneels up and unbuttons his pants and then pushes them down along with his boxer briefs so now you’re looking at just how good enough he is finding you. You can’t take your eyes off his erection, it’s big, rock hard and the tip is glistening from the precum. It’s like the sight has turned on something inside you, because before you could have a second thought you’re moving until you’re on your knees as well, hands wrapping on his cock. Harry moans at your touch and a triumphant smile stretches across your lips as you lean down and don’t stop until your lips are wrapped around the head.

He sits back onto his heels, eyes glued to you as you struggle to push further and further down his length every time your head bobs down. You’re far from taking his whole cock, but every time you go down again and again he keeps praising you.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.”

“Look at that mouth, taking my cock so well.”

“That’s it Angel, you make me feel so fucking good.”

You don’t stop until your jaw is sore and when you finally come up he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you hard, pushing you back onto the mattress as he lands on top of you again.

Half blindly, you reach towards the nightstand and into the drawer, grabbing a condom and handing it over to him. You’d love to be the one to roll it onto his cock, but your hands are starting to shake from how much you want to feel him inside you already.

Once the condom is on he lowers his hips between your legs and you feel his length wedge between your drenched folds. He moves his hips back and forth a few times, coating his length in your arousal before reaching down between your bodies and grabbing himself by the base.

“As much as I want to take you in every possible pose, I meant that I might not last long,” he chuckles as the head is already teasing your center. “But I won’t stop until you come again. And I’ll have all my fantasies played out next time.”

Next time. These two words make your heart jump, knowing that he is planning to have a next time and you’re still thinking about that when he finally thrusts forward and into you, filling you up inch by inch until his whole length is buried inside you.

He stills for a few seconds, maybe to let you get used to his size or maybe to regulate himself enough to last longer, you don’t know for sure. But then his lips capture yours again and he starts moving. His hips are rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm and when you hook your legs around his waist he picks his pace up and his thrusts become a bit rougher than before, but it’s just what you needed.

Your second orgasm is already building up in the pit of your stomach and you claw at his back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his moans getting muffled by your heated skin. You feel his muscles flex on his back and you can tell he is close, but he is fighting to hold back for you.

He lifts his head and rests his forehead against yours, keeping his rhythm steady and you see the struggle in his eyes.

“I’m close,” you breathe out and he nods with an almost torturous look. “Let it go, Harry, I want to feel you come.”

“Not until you—”

“That’s what I need,” you urge him and he moans before he thrusts forward harder than before, he stays still for a moment, gasping for air as he pulls back and slams into you again, riding out his own orgasm that quickly triggers yours.

Seeing him fall apart because of you is all you needed.

He keeps moving for a while, but his thrusts become sloppier until they come to a halt. His whole weight is pushing against your body as your hands are lazily dancing up and down his sweaty back. You feel his heart hammering against your chest and listen to how his breathing slowly steadies before he rolls off of you. Moving with him you curl up against him, your head resting on his chest.

Then, out of the blue he lets out a soft chuckle. Curiously you lift your head to look at him questioningly.

“I think I need an award for lasting that long,” he comments and you laugh with him until his hand cradles your face and he pulls you up for a soft, lazy kiss.

A siren wakes you up that passes by the bedroom window. You grimace with your eyes still closed as you roll from one side to the other, your hand reaching out, searching for Harry’s body, like you did during the night, but this time all you find is the empty mattress beside you.

It instantly sets off a siren in your head as well.

Sitting up you look at the rumpled sheets on the right side of the bed, but Harry is still not there. Your stomach drops as you crawl out of bed and grab a shirt and a pair of panties to put on quickly before walking out of the bedroom, hoping you might find him in the kitchen making breakfast, but when all you find is your own mess from the day before, panic takes over.

There won’t be next time. That was just an empty promise, he left you just like he left everyone else. How could you even think that you were different?

Tears are dwelling in your eyes as you wrap your arms around you, but then you hear the front door open and you turn around to find Harry walking in, balancing two coffees in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

“Hey, you’re up! I went to get us breakfast, because I didn’t find much in your fridge and—Y/N, are you crying?”

“No,” you shake your head, but then a sob bubbles from your throat. Harry places the cups and the bag to the side table and rushes over to you in panic.

“What happened? Talk to me,” he pleads, but you just shake your head, embarrassed that you instantly assumed the worst of him.

It takes only a couple of seconds for Harry to put the puzzle pieces together as well.

“You thought I left,” he says.

“I got scared for a moment when I didn’t find you.”

He doesn’t try to play it off or play the victim. He pulls you into a tight hug and gently sways until you calm down. When he pulls back and looks you in the eyes all you see in his gaze is determination.

“Remember what I told you the night when I dropped you off at your sister’s place?”

“That I should look at Jeremy with criticism.”

“Before that.” You remain silent because you can’t recall what else was said that night. “I said that I will gladly prove to you that my interest in you is genuine.”

Oh, yeah. You remember that.

“The proving starts now. I will do anything to earn your trust.”

“Even if it takes a long time?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip. He smiles warmly at you.

“Even if it takes forever.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

862 notes · View notes

roturo · 5 months

Text

ᯓ★DASH ╰⪼┆MMM!, I JUST WANNA CONTINUE MY PACE!

⤹ featuring: jjk men and motorcycles!, smut, pussy slapping, size kink, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, jealousy, marking, breeding, masturbation, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms- gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, megumi fushiguro, sukuna ryomen..

⤹ next up!: bad news! (feb 2024) ft. jjk men suffering from reader having a low sex drive, ow!

february event! -`♡´-

gojo satoru

Sounds of skin slapping filled the room, he swears he was so close to cum for the second time in the afternoon. You? Maybe like the fifth? Sixth? He doesn’t remember how many times he ate you out– preferring to “skip lunch and have dessert” instead.

The sounds of motorcycles and talking were silenced thanks to your moans. Not like he needed to hear the other people throwing shit at him. Probably just jealous that he always wins this type of spontaneous street races.

He felt that familiar tingly feeling shocking his body from his hips to his neck, feeling how you were squeezing his cock he could tell you were close too, rings from his phone tried to win the sounds of his groans and moans. Notifications coming out from what you could catch to see– Geto asking where he was, that they needed him right now just so they could start the race. People were complaining of favoritism and how they shouldn’t let Satoru compete anymore.

“Sa- ‘toru, the- the race.” Taking breaths while trying to tell Gojo you were out of time and should stop– but all you could pronounce were small ‘ah, ahs~’ while he pounded behind you. “They can wait baby, just cum f’me one last time, yeah?”

It was like a ritual for him to fuck you everytime before a race. Taking it as his “luck key”, even though he didn’t need it to win, he just accustomed himself to destress before racing. Not that you complain.

“They- they already know who’s goin’ to win anyway- shit- you feel so good babe” A specific thrust threw you over the edge and made your vision blurry, losing yourself in the feeling while Satoru was reaching his high too while he continued pounding behind you. “atta’ girl– there we go… yeah, take it f’me”

geto suguru

Don’t ask me how, but this man would love to see you riding him while he’s on top of the motorcycle.

Small tired jumps in search of release while you stabilize yourself with the handlebar while Geto’s thrusts sync with yours. Caging your small body on his while he also stabilized himself by moving his hands to the handlebar, feeling the motorcycle tremble and having to put one of his feet down to stop it from moving too much.

You were too lost in the pleasure you wouldn’t even notice the white of his hands because of how hard he was gripping the handlebar, one of them moving to grip your waist instead, helping you get even deeper in his cock. All he could see was the connection between the two of you, his back pressed to yours.

“Ahh Sshit baby- S’perfect f’me–” He had to bite your shoulder to not embarrass himself and moan louder than you. His hand on your waist moving towards your core while he starts giving small slaps on your clit. The small pain he was inflicting aroused you more– taking a mental note that you would most likely forget to buy a new leather saddle for him. The both of you would already reach your highs and he would stop thrusting, making you cockwarm him, but he wouldn’t stop slapping your pussy. Loving your body reaction while he chuckled everytime you trembled on top of him each time he gave a hard slap.

Your clit was hard and pulsing because of how much he slapped it, your arousal wetting Geto’s thighs when you came again just by slapping your pussy. Feeling his hard cock inside of you he wouldn’t move and preferred to continue playing with you.

nanami kento

It all started with an innocent act. You sitting on his bike while admiring it— delicately touching it, your doe eyes and small body compared to his did something inside him.

You just looked so… pretty sitting on his bike. Your hips rolling trying to find a comfortable position in this big bike of his– remembering the same movement when he’s inside of you. Trying to pleasure yourself on his big cock making an appearance on your tummy– not letting you touch yourself or him, you just had to cum by your movements and his cock.

He loved it. Watching your body move and using him as a sex toy– but for you it was a punishment, not being able to touch him, or to feel him in the right way stressed you a lot– making it harder to cum.

He loses the mental battle on his head and now finds himself between your thighs while you balance yourself trying to grip whatever part of his bike.Your legs caging his head even deeper in your center, he never felt so… needy for something. Being so ‘patient and tolerant’ flew across the window the moment he saw you end his bike next to each other.

Maybe because it was the two things he most adored in the world? You first, his bike second. But it doesn’t matter what was the cause, but now he’s sure the effect will be him sitting on his bike while you ride him.

megumi fushiguro

You thought it was funny? You know how easily stressed Megumi becomes when a race is coming. He’s a perfectionist, and really ambitious. So he could never let himself lose, not when he has a reputation to sustain now.

He needs to feel enough. Even though you always tell him he’s more than enough and should treat his hobby as it is: a hobby– he should take it lightly and enjoy it rather than making it something that would hurt him in any kind of way.

But the moment he saw you giggling next to one of his ‘rivals’ he’s sure something inside his brain magically turned on and made him feel an anger that he couldn’t quite describe. He trusts you. But seeing you next to someone else rather than him really bothered him.

He doesn’t consider himself as a jealous boyfriend– but you were just so perfect for him that he was afraid of losing you in any kind of way. He wouldn't admit that kind of sadness and insecurity inside him to anyone, he prefers to disguise it as rage. That didn’t quit the fact that he’s jealous right now though.

He obviously won the race, the moment you went to hug him and congratulate him you knew something was wrong. The way his body reacted to yours wasn’t normal, tough and stiff, like he was almost forcing himself to hug you lovely when all he wanted it was to fuck you infront of everybody and show them you were his.

Maybe that’s an idea for another day.

But right now when the both of you got home, he told you not to get off his bike. You were confused- maybe he’s taking you somewhere else?

Wrong.

He brought himself a chair, placed it so he was facing the right side of it. All he did was say two words.

“ride it.”

He pointed at the bike with a movement of his chin, your face showed confusion, but he was applying the silent treatment. He never did it to you– so that’s how you knew to do what he says before making it worse.

So that’s how you find yourself naked on his bike, trying to do the best you can to cum for a second time while Megumi watches, sitting on the chair jerking off his cock–. the needy mushroom tip showing how close he was, his balls visible swollen because of how he was edging himself, making sure “to save as much cum to dump it inside of you and mark you as his”

Breed you like an animal the moment you wet his bike again, leaving marks that would last days, just so the other fuckers know to not get near anything that it’s his.

sukuna ryomen

He would ignore the bike tbh.

This man wouldn’t care where he is, the moment he saw you next to his bike he knew he had to fuck you– he knew you had to mark it with your arousal caused thanks to him and that’s how he would remember you even far away from you.

But let’s be real now, this man would fuck you the moment he feels blood near his cock, it doesn’t matter anything else than you and his cock. Just pounding inside you, breeding you, and training you while you ride him saying “it’s the same shit if you want to ride a bike”

Not that he'st wrong, but you wouldn’t have a dick touching your g-spot everytime and something overstimulating your clit. But basically the same– yeah…

3K notes · View notes

silencesscreams · 6 months

Note

"is there any chance i can fix this?" where james and reader are best friends since birth but he begins to pull away and spend less time with her in favor of the boys, so she just cuts him out of her life and after a while he doesn't know how to deal with it anymore. hiiiii

sad beautiful tragic

james potter x fem reader (angst)

a/n: sorry about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language (also i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i tried my best) also immediately thought of the title because of the taylor swift song, so hope you don’t mind the association. also the first kiss part came to my mind because of a tiktok i saw a few weeks ago but i don’t really remember who’s it was to credit them

warnings: friendship distancing, kissing, fighting, cursing, a bit short (sorry), happy ending

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please”

you knew james potter and he knew you. knowing meaning comprehending each other, meaning that you stood by each others side for as long as you can remember.

he was your first friend. he was your neighbor and you both grew up together, it was expected that you both would know each other better than anyone.

sure, it felt different when you both started hogwarts and suddenly he had new friends, but so did you. you spent the time you could together, always saving a bit of your days for each other.

during the sixth to seventh year summer vacation, he had spent the whole summer with you, you both would hang out all the time.

until he kissed you.

it was the last day of summer and you both had spent the evening in his room. you were talking about a book you had been reading recently and he listened quietly, like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard of. until you paused for a brief moment and he moved closer to you. you were sat on the floor with him, the carpet tickling your legs as you played with the fluffy yarn under you.

“honey” he said, you looked at him, doe eyed waiting for him to continue. “a phrase. two words, six letters, two vowels. guess.” he said lowly whilst looking at your lips. your mind went blank.

one vowel for each word. you still didn’t get it.

“what are the vowels?” you whisper back, he smiles.

“i and e” he answers, not taking his eyes from off of you for a second. you knew.

“kiss me?” and so he did. his lips met yours abruptly, his hands grabbed your hips and yours went straight to the back of his neck. it completely changed the way you ever saw him, hell, it completely changed your expectations to a kiss. it was better than anything you’d ever experienced and you loved it.

when you got back to school, it seemed like he didn’t do that, actually, it seemed like he didn’t even talk to you the whole summer.

sure, he did casually say hello in the halls and you might’ve shared one or two conversations, but what the hell? he kisses you like that and expects you to just forget about it? that was the most fucked up thing anyone could’ve done. as the semester went on, your mind was absolutely torturing you over that kiss.

it made you overthink every single thing you ever did around him. but maybe he didn't have time, maybe he was really busy with his studies and quidditch, right? that was probably it.

he saw you every once in a while, said an awkward hi or whatever that thing signaling head thing he did was.

the crush you had developed for him didn’t help at all. it made you crave his presence in your life, even now that you hated him more than you ever thought you possibly could. you missed his pet names for you, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ sounded so amazing coming out of his mouth.

but from the moment he started to ignore you, you decided he was absolutely done. he was never going to see a smile coming from you ever again, he was never going to get another hello, nothing. james potter didn’t deserve a single thing from you.

your friends agreed. they thought he was a piece of shit and said you should’ve cut him off a long time before.

life went on without him, you barely thought about him. your studies were going well, everything was great.

christmas break came up and when you saw james at the train station, you were pissed. you knew he was going to be there for christmas dinner, he was always invited alongside with his family. you didn’t know how he was going to act then, was he going to pretend it never happened?

when you got home, your mother instantly started asking you what you wanted for dinner and you were glad to be home, you just hated that he was in the house next to yours.

a few nights after you both got home, you were invited for a date by steven, who worked at a bookstore near the city park. you said yes, he took you to see a shitty movie and tried to kiss you after dropping you off at your front porch. you dodged it and gave him a good night kiss on the cheek. james saw it all.

once the date left, you heard him yelling from his porch:

“who’s that?” you ignored him and went inside, sure, you weren’t going to see steven again but james didn’t deserve to know that.

on christmas day you went to the potter’s for dinner, your parents insisted for you to go, even though you tried to fake being sick. sirius was there too, you politely greeted all of them them and didn’t bother to answer james’ “hey”.

when you sad at the side of the living room table james sat next to you, even though that wasn’t his usual seat. you played with your dress awkwardly and ate less, being there was making you so irritated you lost your appetite.

after taking a bite from your desert, you thanked euphemia for the food and told your parents you were feeling a bit sick and that you were heading home, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.

as you were opening the door to head out, you heard footsteps behind you. you knew james was there and you had no interest to talk with him.

“don’t” you simply stated, stepping out and shutting the door lightly on him, he followed you during the small walk between both your houses.

“hey!” he shouted, trying to get your attention. you were about to shut the door to your house on his face, but he held it with his foot, going into your house.

he pulled you by your wrist but you tugged it away from him.

“don’t touch me!” you shouted at him, staring into his eyes for the first time that night.

“now you can talk to me, huh? ‘the fucks up with you?!” he shouts back, brows furrowed. you couldn’t believe him, what a fucking nerve he had.

“whats up with YOU?!” you step closer to him, throwing your keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. “you’ve ignored me for the whole semester and now you wanna talk?” he had never seen you like this. you had never been this angry at anyone or anything around him.

“i’m sorry?” he had no reaction, he knew he was wrong, he just couldn’t deal with it. with anything. he didn’t know what to do after he kissed you, he couldn’t handle any of it. he knew that if he spent more time around you he would fall harder, he couldn’t risk it.

“i’m sorry! now that you don’t have anyone else near for you to talk to i’m worthy of your attention? i’m so lucky, right?!” your eyes started to tear up, but you held it in, he was not getting to see you cry.

“honey, i’m sorry i didn’t talk much with you these past few months, but i tried to speak with you tonight and you didn’t even bother to answer me!” he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you sat down on the couch, staring at your hands.

“you didnt even look at me. the entire fucking night. one lousy ‘hey’ is not trying to do anything” he handed you a piece of paper, it was crumpled up in his jeans’ pocket. you knew he was bad with words, but the paper was written front and back. what was he even trying to do? did he think a letter was enough to fix the damage he had done?

“really? you’re a little too late for this, don’t you think?” you said, looking at him angrily.

“fine, don’t read it then. just keep it, okay?” he knew you were about to cry. it was the worst feeling he had ever felt.

“you don’t get to do this to me, james” you hold back tears once you say it.

“i know, honey, i know” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face as you try to not melt because of his touch. he kisses you, but this time you pull away.

“no. don’t do this to me” you say, a single tear streaming down your face, he wipes it off but more tears just keep coming

“im sorry, im so sorry for everything i did and-“ you interrupt him.

“could you just try to listen?!” you shout, pulling away from his touch again. “what makes you think that i want this? after all you did, better, all that you didn’t do?! you kiss me and expect me to forget about it? expect me to be okay with you ignoring me all the time just because you kissed me again? i can’t be okay with any of this unless you actually explain to me what happened. i really try to understand you, but all of this doesn’t help!”

“i love you” he says “i have loved you all my life and i didn’t know, after i kissed you it all hit me and i couldn’t trust myself around you anymore, i didn’t want to hurt you so i pulled away, i just didn’t know it would hurt you more like that. i’m sorry, but im here now and i want to show you how much I do love you” he pauses and sits next to you on the couch.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please” he wipes the tears from off your face again. you knew he meant it, you just didn’t know how to trust him again.

“i don’t know” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you had never seen him look this sad. you wanted to trust him, you really did, but how could you? how could you know he wasn’t going to pull something like that again?

you couldn’t be sure of anything, you could only hope for the best and be careful. so you gave it a shot.

“come here” you say lowly, pulling him in for a hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and gave you small kisses.

“i’m so sorry, baby” he whispered.

“i know” you whisper back, he looks at you and gives you quick kisses all over your face. you can’t help but smile.

it was going to take a while for you to trust him again, but you knew you could.

#james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #mrsaluado #lila writes #silencesscreams

2K notes · View notes

heesdreamer · 5 months

Text

Anything

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

SUMMARY ➩ Four years after he disappeared from your life your childhood friend and love returns back to town completely changed.

WARNINGS ➩ Heeseung is an addict and not a super amazing person, broken people with bad communication skills, rough smut, like quick hate sex basically. Super angst but I hope it’s still a good read lol… based in the late 90s early 2000s

WC ➩ 11k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ A bit nervous to be posting here again after five months since I’m pretty rusty but hopefully you’ll take it easy on me lol. No part two for this and it’s an open ending (my favorite) so infer what you’d like but feel free to ask me anything about the story or the characters! Hope it’s okay and I missed you guys. NOT PROOFREAD

Summer was pretty much the constant season where you grew up outside of the few weeks the sun disappeared and the rain turned the beaches grey.

You appreciated the break every year considering it just made the heat coming back feel ten times better, that first day being able to run into the ocean again always feeling like your towns personal version of new year.

Let the salt water wash away your sins and the tears that had long dried on your sun kissed cheeks.

Your town had been spared from tourist for most of your childhood even though it’s definitely gained traction during more recent years if the alarming amount of people outside the local diners said anything.

The locals didn’t mind as long as they cleaned up their empty bottles of sunscreen from the public beaches and didn’t interfere with the abundance of native wild life.

You definitely didn’t mind considering you were on your sixth year working at the smoothie shop just a block away from the most popular beach and you enjoyed suckering large families out of large tips by giving them basic fun facts about the area they could use for their vacation.

It was the least you could do as somebody who lived in a permanent one.

This years version of those rainy few weeks came in the suddenly deliverance of news you’d never even imagined hearing let alone prepared yourself to deal with.

“Hey.” Jake sounded out of breath as he crashed through the flimsy door of the smoothie shop, hair wet from either just leaving the beach where he worked as a lifeguard or from the slight drizzle that had started to pick up.

“Hey, don’t get my floor wet. Assuming you’re off this week?” You were folding cleaning rags in preparation for closing up the shop for the next few days due to the news channel continuously warning the locals of a storm coming.

Jake rolled his eyes at your light scolding but you noticed that he did avoid sitting on the stools or touching anything he could get his wetness on.

“Oh so it’s your floor now?” He was cocking an eyebrow up as he looked at you and now it was your turn to roll your eyes, a light smile on your face at the teasing.

You’d know Jake the same amount of time you had known pretty much anybody living in the town which was basically the entire sum of your life. All the kids went to the same small school district and everyone’s parents knew each other to some capacity so there’d never been a time you didn’t know him and your other friends.

“So…” Your extensive knowledge of him made it even more obvious that he was about to tell you something you didn’t want to hear, his tone changing to the same one he used whenever he had to let the beach goers know the waters weren’t safe. “He’s back in town.”

The mood in the small shop changed immediately and you tensed up from where you were still folding the rags, placing the one you were working on back down onto the counter and squeezing it with your hand.

You noticed the rain picking up outside and it was almost ironic how it seemed to match your mood.

“Oh.” That was all you could manage to say and Jake dropped his shoulders in defeat at your dull reaction. “No Jakey thanks for telling me that’s.. it’s nice to have a heads up.”

Neither one of you spoke for a few seconds and you let the sound of the wind whipping around the thin metal panels of the roof distract you just enough to stop you from immediately bombarding him with questions. You didn’t need him to know how much you cared even though you knew he already did.

“Did- did you see him?”

“Saw his mom at the market on my lunch break.” He was watching you so intensely that it was starting to annoy you. He looked like he was waiting for you to explode and you were considering giving him what he wanted just so he’d stop staring like that. “They’re like.. well he’s back in the old house so I’m assuming that means… yeah.”

He was awkward in his delivery but you understood exactly what he meant, your old friend wasn’t just back in town for a vacation or a trip down memory lane but instead he was back for at least the near future.

Your head hung low as you tried your best to not react outwardly but the humorless scoff left your mouth before you could stop it and you heard Jake sigh near the door.

Luck was at least in your favor considering the news was right and the rain didn’t stop for another four days meaning you and the boys didn’t have work and there was no chance of you running into the exact person you wanted to avoid.

You spent your days at Sunghoon’s house which was on the other side of town from where you and the rest of your friends lived.

Sunghoon had been the last person to join your small group and he almost hadn’t been accepted considering he didn’t go to the same school and actually didn’t live there at all. His father was beyond wealthy and owned a nice property up on the hill, a place you and your friends used to sit on the beach and stare at while daydreaming about living there.

He came down every winter from the city so him and his dad could escape the cold and icy roads and then he’d leave again once the temperature picked up.

Naturally this made him a bit of an outcast compared to the rest of you who grew up together and spent nearly every single day hanging out and playing on the beaches but you liked him nonetheless.

He wasn’t as spoiled as you figured he probably could have been and if anything he was actually pretty sheepish whenever someone mentioned how much money he constantly had at his disposal.

You’d all tease him until he bought you snacks and ice cream in bulk just to get you off his back, a silent peace offering.

An even more silent ‘I’m sorry you’re poor and I’m not’.

Once you all got older and his dad got too tired to continue the travel back and forth just to avoid some snow, Sunghoon would come by himself just to see you all and you imagined it was any day now before he decided to stay for good.

The image from their hillside property was breathtaking even through the storm, floor to ceiling windows that you’d perch yourself on while the others slept. It had a perfect view of the biggest beach and the mountains behind it and despite growing up with it as your backdrop, you never got used to it.

“Can’t sleep?” Riki’s voice was echoing through the nearly empty living room, a feat of Sunghoon’s dad practically moving out.

You turned your head to see him shuffling towards you in his pajamas with an open bottle of wine in his hands. He was taking a swig before nudging your leg with his hand so you would move it and he could sit down beside you with a groan.

His back was against the other side of the windowsill and your legs were crossing over his in a mirror image but he looked just as exhausted as you figured you did and it was sort of comforting to know you weren’t the only one handling this bad.

“When do I ever sleep?” Your hand was sticking out as you spoke and he took one more sip of the wine before handing the bottle over to you.

Your face pulled into a grimace at the sour taste and he laughed softly at the reaction before leaning forward to snatch it back and keep it away from you. You looked back out the window but you could feel him staring at you now and you sighed.

Riki had been around just as long as Jake had but he was also your neighbor which added another layer of familiarity. There was no hiding your family issues with him like you attempted with the others because he was one window away and often the person you ran to when things got too hard.

“Saw him in town you know, before we headed up here.” He was starting off in a whisper like he was testing the waters and you were getting sick of people treating you like a loose canon when it came to this. “He looks different.”

“Obviously. He was a kid last time we saw him and he’s what, 20 now?” You phrased it like you weren’t too sure but both of you were aware that you knew his exact age. You’d never forgotten his birthday and your mood soured every year on that day for the past four times it cycled past.

“21.” Riki clarified anyways and you appreciated that you both pretended you’d be able to make that mistake. “And I don’t just mean he grew up I mean he looks terrible.”

Your stomach turned uncomfortably as graphic images made their way into your mind and you squeezed your eyes tight at the thought of him and what he could possibly look like now.

“Why are you telling me this Riki?” You sounded hurt and lost and you felt his leg nudging yours again like he was either trying to comfort you or snap you out of the tense state you’d fallen into. You opened your eyes and stared at him and the way the moonlight highlighted the side of his face.

“I told him I’d meet him for lunch once the storm cleared up.” He said it slowly and that made it that much easier for you to hear the overwhelming guilt in his voice. “I’d like for you to be there. I’m asking you to be there.”

Your face fell flat but he didn’t stop looking at you as he dropped the bomb and you almost wanted to shy away from the intense gaze just waiting for you to show that you cared.

“You can’t ask me that.” It came out as a whisper and you hated how weak you sounded at just the idea of seeing him.

“But I am.”

—

Two days later the clouds were gone like they’d never been there and the unrelenting heat was building back up at full force. You all returned down from the hillside property with raging hangovers and a suffocating promise.

You tried to ignore your phone ringing on the wall because you knew who it was, or at least could guess out of three names but it was pointless considering Riki was right next door and the ringing soon turned to knocks at your window.

So you told yourself you agreed to the lunch because you were sick of being harassed about it and it was not because you needed to see him for yourself.

If anything this was your chance to prove you didn’t care about him and you just had never felt that level of loss before. It wouldn’t kill you to hear his voice and listen to the way it’s changed over the lost time and you’d be able to get through the meal with a few awkward conversations before getting to go back to your regular life.

You were immediately proven wrong the second you pushed into the restaurant and you would have stopped in your tracks if it wasn’t for Riki’s guiding hand on your lower back.

He worked at this restaurant and it was directly on the shore of the beach so despite it being busy post storm he was easily maneuvering you through it towards the table.

You stayed back a few feet as the boy stood up and went to greet your other friends, a few awkward seconds passing like they didn’t know wether to shake hands or hug before Jake was moving forward and pulling the older boy into a tight embrace.

Sunghoon was doing the same and rubbing the back of his head comfortably before Riki gave him a familiar pat on the shoulder due to the fact they’d already gone through the first encounter nerves.

The three boys immediately climbed into the booth and started to flip through the menus to give you some privacy even though you all knew they’d eaten the same things here since they were kids and knew every dish like the back of their hand.

You still appreciated the gesture considering the second he looked at you your heart clenched painfully and you suddenly felt like you were 17 again.

“Hey y/n.” His voice was low as he spoke but you could still hear it enough to notice you barely recognized it. It had dropped a few octaves and it was painfully raspy.

“You look like shit Hee.” Your blunt words and the use of the familiar nickname made him scoff out a laugh and he nodded his head in agreement to your insult.

He truly did even though you were just trying to tease him and loosen the atmosphere. He was ten shades paler than the rest of you but you had a feeling it wasn’t due to him not being around the sun all the time anymore. He looked nearly sickly and your stomach turned the more you saw the signs of that being true.

His eyes looked tired and sad but what was the worst change was how skinny he was. He’d always been thin but now he was towering over you and still looking like a strong wave could take him out.

He sniffed uncomfortably because of your intense gaze and your eyes honed in on his prominent wrist bone and the way he flicked at his nostril.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the action and he immediately lowered his arm like he’d just been caught doing something, confirming your belief.

The silence was awkward but luckily one of Riki’s coworkers was approaching to get your drinks and you scooted past the tall boy so you could slide in the booth besides Sunghoon.

It was unusual for you to be nearly silent and not engaging in the conversation but you couldn’t really handle trying to fumble your way through acting like everything was normal like the others were.

You started to wonder if they really did think it was just a normal meal while catching up with a childhood friend.

It blew your mind to consider that maybe they didn’t see the way Heeseung was constantly bouncing his knee and picking apart his napkin or the fact he’d barely taken a bite of food the entire time. Did they not see his fidgeting eyes and the fact he looked sick every glance he took towards your direction.

The boys did their best to fill the silence without bringing up anything that would let Heeseung know how much he’d missed out on and soon enough everyone was having to go back to work.

You’d gotten the day off since the storm had drastically killed off the tourist that make up 90% of your daily customers and you could tell the boy across from you felt a bit lost when everyone stated their plans for the rest of the day.

“Did you maybe want to go to the beach with me?” You had no idea why you were inviting him but by the time you noticed the shocked look on your friends faces, it was too late and the offer was hanging heavily in the air.

He looked around like he wasn’t quite sure you were talking to him and his eyes were a little more alert when he finally turned back to face you.

“Uh yeah sure.”

Riki gave you a cautious look as you left and Sunghoon parted you with a swift kiss on the cheek and another firm hug for Heeseung. Jake was heading to the same place as you for his shift as a lifeguard so it made the walk down the street a little less awkward.

The roles reversed from lunch and now it was Heeseung’s turn to fall silent while you and Jake softly joked and made casual commentary on the damage the storm had did. You would have forgotten he was there at all if not for his constantly sniffling and the fact his presence shifted your entire atmosphere.

“Be safe yeah?” You weren’t sure if it was meant to have a double meaning but Jake made your stomach turn as he left your side to head to the watch tower.

Heeseung was clearing his throat beside you but you ignored him in favor of finding an umbrella to sit near, not quite under so you could still feel the sun on your skin. He opted for sitting directly under the shade and you were brought back to when you were kids and he was always the last one inside.

He was impossible to tame and get out of the water even long after the sun set and the parents began to call you all home but he couldn’t be more different now.

Memories of his freckled tan face smiling at you, eyes squinted against the bright sky with his hand above his eyebrows to try and block it so he could see you better. His laugh always the loudest sound over the crashing waves and the way it felt when he’d wrap his arms around you to throw you into the water.

Now he was practically curling in on himself to avoid the rays and he looked almost pained at the sounds of the kids playing and splashing around.

It was hard to believe this was the same boy who had you convinced there was salt water in his veins.

“Since when are you getting high?”

You didn’t sound at all accusatory in your question, just plainly asking for an answer to the obvious but he immediately tensed up and sent a glare that would have you believing you’d gotten it wrong if it wasn’t for the embarrassment in his eyes.

He took a few seconds to answer but you extended your thin patience towards him and waited.

“I’m not anymore.” He had a funny tone to his that almost sounded like he was saying an inside joke, something you clearly didn’t understand and your face furrowed. “That’s why I’m here actually.”

Your mouth was parting in realization and you couldn’t help the bitter laugh that slipped out of you. You felt overwhelmingly stupid in that moment but it wasn’t necessarily your fault for not assuming the worst about his intentions.

“Here I thought you were back because you actually missed us. Didn’t realize this was your rehab.” He didn’t look amused anymore and you were struck by how much you wanted to see him smile at you again.

He nodded and looked away from you and that was enough for you to realize the conversation was over.

—

four years ago

You’d never been anywhere else but you had a hard time believing any other place could measure up to what you were experiencing now.

The sounds of your lifelong friends splashing each other and laughing as they took unexpected blows from the waves, bodies crashing through the surface of the water and pushing back through with groans of playful annoyance.

You knew the sun was setting soon which meant the head lifeguard (who happened to be jake’s older brother) was going to usher you all back home and away from the water but you would have given anything for the moment to freeze.

Even if your butt was damp from the wet sand you were sitting on and you were starting to shiver from the lack of clothes paired with the disappearing heat.

You watched as another head popped out of the water before standing to his full height and glancing around like he was searching for something. His gaze stopped on you and a bright smile broke out on his face at the sight of you sitting on the beach and observing the scene.

It made you feel warm to see him brush off your friends and push through the water so he could get over to you, shaking his head to semi dry his hair and laughing when you squealed at the sudden wetness hitting you.

“You cold?” He was flopping down onto the sand next to you and his cold skin brushed yours for a second before you flinched away and groaned.

“Yeah but I think Jaeyun’s brother is gonna make us leave any second anyways.” You were scrunching your nose up as you looked over at him and he smiled up at you.

Heeseung always seemed to be smiling but especially in your direction.

You weren’t an idiot and you didn’t at all miss the fact that he was extra attached to you. You had a deeper bond than anybody else in the group and even though you weren’t exactly sure when the transition into something deeper happened, you were sure you both could feel it constantly bubbling under the surface.

It wasn’t something you felt like you needed to confess or say out loud officially because you had all the time in the world here with him.

“Come swim with us.” He was watching you as your hand reached over to swipe the drying sand off his forehead.

“Not happening Hee sorry.” You smiled when he groaned and rolled over onto his back, knowing you had made up your mind by the tone in your voice. “We can always swim tomorrow.”

—

Tomorrow never came because the next morning you were racing down to the Lee house with a plate of cinnamon rolls Riki’s mom had made and finding it almost completely empty.

Your heart had dropped into your stomach but you still slowly approached the familiar door and knocked against it softly.

Typically you didn’t even bother knocking considering you were there more than your own house but something was off and you suddenly felt like an intruder.

The sight of his grandma opening the door and giving you a pained expression when she saw it was you almost fully killed you and if that didn’t do it then the fact she softly whispered to you that he wasn’t going to be coming back anytime soon definitely did.

It was hard not to grab her by the shoulders and demand she tell you where he had gone and it was even harder to hold in your sobs as you ran all the way back to the house next to yours, bursting into Riki’s living room and climbing into his bed to cry while you waited for him to get off work.

He’d barely understood you through your blubbering sobs and when he did he was joining you in the bed and falling into a hurt silence.

The hurt rippled through you for months until you gathered the courage to ask his grandma for his address so you could write him a letter.

She was clearly reluctant but she gave it to you anyways and you spent all week writing it and expressing to him how you felt, both for him and about the fact he had left without saying goodbye. You wished she’d turned you down when it got sent right back unopened and the same thing happened for the next twenty after that.

You kept writing them for two years even though they’d always make their way back to the post office and at the end of that summer, you finally put the pen down.

At some point during the third year you’d gotten a postcard that had no writing on it or even a signature. It was just a blank card with a photo of some cartoonish cherry blossoms and a small river.

You somehow knew it was from him without any confirmation and you wept like a baby in the middle of all the mailboxes, hugging it to your chest and swearing you’d never let yourself feel like that again. You almost sent it back to him like he’d done to you for so long but instead you stuffed it under your pillow and tried to not feel it’s weight every night you slept.

Now four years later he was suddenly everywhere again.

He’d started to work at the surfboard rental shop across from your own place and he was practically at every single hangout like nothing had changed.

Except everything had changed and he was such a jarringly different person that you almost felt like you were hanging out with the corpse of your old friend.

“We’ve gotta get you some sun man.” Jake was disguising his concerns with some light teasing one of the days you all made your way up to Sunghoon’s place but you all knew Heeseung and his current state was the constant elephant in the room.

“Yeah.” His noncommittal low mumbling was about the most you got out of him these days and you sighed from where you were laying on the couch.

His empty gaze landed on you when you were standing up and pushing Sunghoon’s legs off of you (much to his annoyance). You approached him and stuck your hand out in his direction just to be met with a raised eyebrow and no movement.

“Cmon let’s go.” You were firm in your words and shaking your hand slightly to urge him to take it in his before you got too impatient. He sighed at you but did exactly that and you pushed aside the warmth that spread you in favor of pulling him up so he was standing.

You were slightly thrown off by how close he ended up next to you so you took a step back while raking over his tall frame and clearing your throat.

“I’m sick of your moping.” You didn’t expect him to continue holding your hand after you pulled him up but you took advantage of the opportunity and started to tug him behind you as you walked towards the doors.

Heeseung stayed silent as you dragged him outside and down the long sandy steps that led down the hillside and onto the small private beach that the park family owned. You never hung out there much as kids considering you weren’t allowed to surf here and you preferred the large waves and active community of the public one but it would do for now.

“What are we doing?” He was finally speaking once you dropped his hand and turned to look at him.

“Going swimming obviously.” You were pulling your shirt over your head the second you finished speaking so you just barely saw his reaction to your hands grabbing the bottom hem.

It was long enough that you managed to watch his eyes widen and drop down to the sudden skin showing but he somehow was able to have a blank expression again by the time you got it off and tossed it onto the sand carelessly.

You’d turned to walk closer to the water but you stopped and looked over your shoulder when you realized he wasn’t following you anymore.

“Cmon.” Your thumbs pushed down the hem of your shorts to showcase the rest of your bikini and now you heard him scoff a laugh as the water touched your ankles.

The water was unusually cold from the few cloudy days you’d had but you were determined now to get him to have some fun and open up a little bit before he really started to bum the rest of you out.

You fought your smile when you heard light splashing behind you and when you finally turned around you were thrown off by the amount of pale skin you were seeing. Obviously you knew he’d have to take off his shirt to get in the water but you were mainly stuck on the changes to his body.

He’d clearly filled out, something you could have guessed from the height, and now he looked surprisingly strong unlike his lanky frame he had when you were younger. Outfit of his ribs slightly showing, he definitely had some muscle definition that you looked away from immediately.

Your eyes landed on what was even more jarring and he surprisingly didn’t shy away when you scanned over the bruising covering his stomach and sides.

You met his gaze for just a second and he just stood there with the light ripples hitting his belly button.

“Get into some trouble?” Your question was light and almost teasing so he had room to ignore you. You didn’t want to bombard him for answers especially since it wasn’t really your place anymore.

If this had been four years ago, you would have wrapped him up in your arms and demanded to know who possibly could have hurt him but that boy wasn’t here anymore. He definitely wasn’t the cold one standing in front of you.

“Something like that.” His response was as uncharacteristic as you expected it to be and you simply nodded your head before waiting for him to catch up to you.

He was up to his chest now in the water and you were starting to struggle to stay afloat which seemed to amuse him if the quirk of his lips told you anything.

“Isn’t this nice?” Your voice was quieter now and you almost face palmed at how nervous and unnatural you sounded.

Heeseung was just watching you like you were the one who had changed but there was something heavy in his eyes now. You almost flinched at the feeling of his warm leg brushing yours under the water once he was finally starting to relax and float a little but you managed to collect yourself.

He hummed in agreement but you could tell he was just doing it to give you the answer he knew you wanted to hear.

You wondered if the cold water felt good on his bruises or if you were just making him feel worse by trying to help.

“Surprised you didn’t bring the others.” He was talking again surprisingly and now he was fully floating on his back with his gaze set on the sky and the colors of the setting sun. “Since you and Sunghoon are so close now.”

The jealous tone of his voice was not something you were used to and you didn’t realize he could sound even less like himself until he proved you wrong.

Heeseung and you had always been each others number ones and he’d never had to doubt his position in your life before but it made you blood boiling mad that he had such an accusatory tone now like you’d done something wrong.

Did he expect you to sit around and mope forever, holding out hope that he’d maybe decide to return one day despite not even knowing where he’d gone?

“We’ve always been close Heeseung. We all are.” Your voice was stable despite how the opposite you felt and something unsaid was being heard loudly in your choice of words.

For the first time since he came back, you were blatantly excluding him from the group. None of you were teenagers anymore and you’d been through a decade of stories and experiences just in the last few years as you transitioned into adults.

Maybe the sight of him now, grown up and empty, wouldn’t have hurt so bad if you watched it happen slowly instead of all at once. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way at all and he would have been a totally different person with your influence.

You immediately felt guilty and gross for giving yourself that much credit.

“It’s different now though.” He seemed set in his idea that you and Sunghoon had some secret deeper bond and you didn’t even try to argue with him this time.

“You’re different.” The response you settled with was pretty petty and he seemed to agree judging by the way he scoffed but he was sitting up and moving a tad closer to you in the water.

“Yeah well you’re exactly the same.” He said it so simply that you couldn’t tell if it was meant to be an insult, compliment or simply just an observation. He was either calling you immature or making a callback to how your relationship used to be.

You figured it was the latter when his hand was brushing against your waist under the water.

“Not all of me.” Your voice had gotten lower now as you realized the mood was shifting to something you’d not experienced with him before.

You’d always found Heeseung attractive obviously but he was so young and you weren’t exactly the age either where you were thinking about him in this way. Sure, he’d been touchy back then with his hand in yours or an arm around your waist as you walked together but never with this look in his eye.

It felt wrong to have him shifting even closer to you, bare chest and his wet hair almost covering his eyes as he stared down due to your newfound height difference.

Mainly the wrong feeling came due to the fact that you barely knew him now and you didn’t want to get to know him like this. You wished it had happened naturally, your friendship had returned when he did and so did your comfortability and maybe eventually the love buried deep in your chest.

But you were so desperate to feel something from him, anything that might indicate he had once cared about you. So you didn’t push him away when he leaned down to kiss you.

His mouth was hot against yours and suddenly all of the teasing touches and heavy glances made a lot more sense.

He had a desperation you didn’t expect and your head was spinning by the time he was pulling you even closer by your waist and slotting his knee in between your legs under the water.

“Hee.” You breathed out his name as he licked into your mouth and he shushed you impatiently, not wanting to give you the chance to stop him before he’d even gotten to really have you.

You weren’t going to and your hips were rolling against his leg, the water hitting higher up on your stomach and making you gasp from the cold and how it splashed over your covered chest.

He seemed to notice considering he was impatiently pulling the fabric of your bikini top away from your skin and you moaned when his mouth was leaving yours in favor of hungrily connecting with your hard nipples. The warmth of his mouth made you spin and you held the back of his head against your chest.

His knee was rocking under you and you kept grinding yourself down on it, free hand wrapping around his back and feeling the muscles clench everytime he moved himself towards you.

“Hee.” you gasped out his name again and this time he atleast hummed in acknowledgement, big hands gripping your waist and forcing you to keep moving against him.

“Cmon y/n, stop fucking talking.” His mouth was back on yours and this time it was you who immediately licked into his closed lips, the sound of his low voice spurring you on even more.

He was lifting you out of the water and your legs wrapped around his waist so you wouldn’t fall. You didn’t even realize he’d be strong enough to lift you but he seemed to have no problem as he started walking towards the shore and you rolled your hips into his hard on that you could now feel pressing against you.

Your mouth parted when you felt how hard he was already and he laid you gently down onto the sand before climbing ontop of you and kissing you again.

This time his body was covering you and you whined when his hips lowered down on yours.

He was sitting up for only a second so he could finish untying your bathing suit and tugging it off of you and you watched as his eyes locked hungrily on your bare chest while you panted heavily.

Your eyes were big and wanting as you stared up at him and the sight was almost too much so he went back to kissing you deeply.

His body was still just as wet as yours and the feeling of his hot skin warming up what the water had cooled was almost as addicting as the way he rolled his hips down slowly.

“Fuck y/n.” He was groaning into your neck and you inhaled at the way he was biting the skin and definitely leaving marks on you. “Used to be mine remember?”

You were shaking your head in disagreement but the way you were rocking your hips and holding onto the back of his head was very telling, you might as well have had his name carved on you.

“Gonna make you mine again.”

Heeseung was pushing your bathing suit bottoms to the side and playing with the waistband of his before impatiently shoving them down onto his thighs. You were both hurt by his impatience and extremely turned on by the fact he was about to take you on the beach without even fully undressing you.

“Tell me you want it.” His tongue licked up to your ear and you gasped at the feeling of his thick head pressing against your wetness, your legs spreading automatically for him.

“Want it. Want it Hee.” You were breathing heavily and trying to fuck yourself down on him even though it was pointless considering how strong his grip on your waist was, pinning you down against the sand and feeling the way you arched up into him when he started to push himself inside.

The slide was easy and your cry was loud enough that you almost worried the other boys would be able to hear you.

“Fucking tight.” His voice was strained as he spat the words through gritted teeth and you clenched around him at the praise, wanting to make him feel as good as he was so easily doing to you. “Perfect pussy for me, sliding right in. So wet y/n.”

His constant use of your name made you feel even more insane and you whined louder when he bottomed out inside you. Heeseung didn’t waste any time before he was starting to roughly fuck into you and it was exactly what you needed after years of pent of anger and emotions.

“Fuck me hard Hee.” You begged him through your cries and he gladly delivered exactly what you needed, slamming his hips against yours so fast it was painful. “Fucking hate you.”

“Hate you so much.” His rebuttal was quick and he caught your mouth in a rough kiss as he spoke, teeth hitting yours making you wince in pain.

“Show me. Fuck me like you hate me.”

He was doing what you asked without any question and you almost broke from how much you could feel it radiating off of him, hate and anger stemming from something you didn’t even understand.

Then it was over before you even processed it started and you were both left panting on the sand as the sun finished setting and the sand underneath you dried.

Heeseung was rolling away from you to land on his back with a grunt and your entire body shivered when you felt his arm pressing against yours and giving you a little bit of warmth that barely made up for how cold you felt all over.

Everything surrounding you was cold now and him not saying a single world just made it ten times worse.

You were hit with shame and guilt tenfold and tears were springing to yours eyes before you could stop them. You vaguely heard him shifting next to you and sniffing loudly, your head turning to him.

Your eyes grew in size when you saw he’d dug something out of his discarded shirts pocket and was sitting up with his head turned away from you like it would make what he was doing any less obvious.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Your voice was low and venomous and your hands uncomfortably went to cover your chest as you sat up and scooted away from him. “You’re getting high?”

He didn’t even look over at you as he cleared his burning throat and shoved whatever the small capsule was back into his crumbled up shirt. The sight of him rolling his eyes like you were annoying him almost made you just sink into the ocean and disappear.

“Get dressed before they come down here and find you like that.” He was standing up as he spoke again and you hated that the tears were fully falling now, hot on your flushed cheeks.

Your shaking hands did their best to tie up your bikini top and he finally looked down at where you were still sitting on the sand and sobbing. You weren’t sure he could see the tears considering how dark it was now but when he turned his face away with a cold expression you knew that he had.

Heeseung was pulling his shift over his head and hesitating for just a few seconds while looking at the stairs back up to the house, almost like he was considering leaving you there.

“Who even are you?” You weren’t sure how you managed to speak so strongly through your cries but he clearly felt the impact of it as he tensed up and his jaw locked.

“Does it matter?”

——

After you’d gotten dressed you had stormed past him up the steps only after slamming your shoulder into his side and steeling your expression. He gave you a few seconds before he was following you up but he didn’t come inside when you got up there.

You’d gone up to Riki and quietly asked him if he could take you home, cold hands shaking as they gripped his wrist and eyes still swollen.

The other boys were silent when they saw the state of you and you just hoped they couldn’t guess what had happened, shame hitting you hard at even the idea of them finding out how you’d just been used and discarded so easily.

You sat there the entire car ride back to town with your head half out the window and the warm summer air doing it’s best to stop the tears from rolling down your face.

Riki didn’t ask you any questions and you were grateful when he pulled into his own driveway and not yours, not even realizing how much you didn’t want to go home until you saw your front door and felt the nausea building.

It was unspoken that he let you rot in the bed in the spare room for the first few days and by day three Jake was rubbing your back softly and trying to get you to eat something.

Sunghoon came and went constantly and you spent most nights with him laying beside you, not touching or speaking but just having him there. You weren’t sure if they’d figured it out or if Heeseung told them but something in you knew that they knew what happened.

You started to feel slightly better after a week of moping and letting yourself finally feel the heartbreak that’d be been building for so many years and after two weeks you were back to work.

If you spent more your shift looking out the window to try to get a glimpse of him in the shop across the street then that was your own personal secret.

He was still somebody you cared about as frustrating as that was but it still made you sick that you started to worry when you hadn’t seen him for a few weeks.

It had been almost a month since that night on the beach and you no longer could assume he was just avoiding you. The town was too small and you would have run into by now regardless if you wanted that or not so he’d either been completely isolating himself or he was gone again and you weren’t sure which one of those hurt you more.

“He’s still here.” Sunghoon’s voice was low next to your ear as you laid in his bed this time, giving Riki and his family a break even though he insisted they didn’t need or want one.

You still wanted to come up here with Sunghoon even though it was a bit hard considering what had happened last time but you figured it was hard for him to be in such a big house all by himself now that his dad wasn’t coming anymore.

“Did you talk to him?” You were rolling onto your stomach and looking at him with wide eyes and he sighed softly as he studied the hope on your face.

“Not really.” He was mumbling now and the pout your lips formed almost made him feel sick. “Just for a second. I was skating past his place.”

You were nodding in understanding but you felt weirdly settled that he hadn’t gone anywhere and he was seemingly here to stay despite how it always felt like he was trying his hardest to get away from you all. You should have get the times worse that he was around and you had a change to run into him sooner than later but you were an idiot at heart.

“He doesn’t deserve you being sad for him, you know that right?” Your hair was being pushed behind your ear by Sunghoon’s hand and you watched him as he stared.

He looked vulnerable and it made sense considering he was not the type of person to say things like that to anybody, especially not to you. Your heart hurt hearing it from somebody else but you gave a soft nod anyways despite not at all agreeing with what he was saying.

“I mean it. You’re like… the best thing any of us could even begin to imagine and he acts like you’re going to stay no matter how he treats you. He’s always been like that, you just didn’t want to see it.”

Your face fell as he kept talking and getting more and more upset. You’d had no idea he felt this way or even noticed things like that and you hated that you started to think about what Heeseung had insinuated before on the beach.

It made you feel overly warm to consider that Sunghoon might have some type of feelings towards you and yet here he was, laying in bed with you for days and comforting you after you let some asshole break your heart for the thousandth time.

“I’m not going to let him do that to me anymore Hoon.” You heard your voice as it came out and heard how obvious the lie was, knowing he did too when he was just blankly staring at you.

“You love him.” His response was curt but it hit you full force and you tried your best not to let any visible reaction show. “You chose him a long time ago.”

You weren’t sure if he was talking about you choosing Heeseung over yourself and your own well-being or if he was once again saying what you think he might have been.

The guilt coursed through you when you were laying your head down on his chest and listening to how fast his heartbeat started to pulse but you couldn’t look at his honest face anymore and the conversation needed to end before it was all too much.

It was only building more when the next morning you were writing him a note letting him know you’d be back soon before hitching a ride back into town.

You spent the entire hour it took getting to Heeseung’s house both trying to gather the courage to go through with your idea and also trying to talk yourself out of it, reaching a peak of panic when you were knocking softly on his door.

He took a long time to open and just as you were about to turn around and leave, there he was.

Standing in the doorway that you’d seen him in close to a thousands times but looking so different that it felt brand new. He didn’t look surprised to see you on his porch and that made you feel even shittier.

“You okay?” He surprised you with the question and how genuine it sounded but you kept your face flat.

“Are you okay?” You emphasized the word and shifted uncomfortably in place until he was stepping aside and letting you in the small house. “The boys are worried about you.”

If he knew you were lying than he didn’t mention it and you took a second to glance around the living room.

Not much had changed about it besides the numerous boxes that were either still unpacked or in the process of being put back away. You didn’t want to ask him and when you met his eyes again you could tell he didn’t want to answer.

“Well I’m fine.” His answer finally came and he was biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying not to say something.

He was such a mystery to you that it was genuinely started to get under your skin. He looked at you like you’d done something so terrible to him and you had absolutely no idea what was bothering him so much, especially since he was the one who had left you.

“You’re fine?” Your voice was flat and bitter and he nodded stiffly to which you scoffed and rubbed your face in annoyance. “So you don’t want to talk about it? You don’t think we should?”

“Go talk to Sunghoon if you want someone to talk emotions with.” His gaze was fiery on you and you almost flinched away from it like it really could have burned you.

You stared at him dumbfounded for a few breaths and the air in the living room was so tense you worried the walls would collapse from it. He actually looked slightly regretful after he said it which shocked you but it didn’t really matter since it was already in your head now.

Heeseung was taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair before looking at you one more time.

“I’ll get dressed and we can go.” You didn’t respond to him and your hurt stare was clearly making him uncomfortable. “Is that okay?”

You waited just a few more seconds before you were giving him a curt nod and covering your mouth from the shock of the entire conversation and whatever was happening between the two of you.

He was turning to walk down the hallway to his room but stopping midway and giving you a glance over his shoulder like he was making sure you hadn’t left.

Your shoulders lost all tension the second he was out of sight and you leaned against the wall to help hold you up, proud of yourself for not running out or embarrassingly tearing up again.

It was quiet for a long time and you didn’t even want to begin to imagine what was taking him so long to throw on a simple outfit but you’d begun to wander around the house while you waited, ending up in the kitchen.

“Oh y/n.”

The soft voice calling out for you had your head turning swiftly and your eyes widened when you saw his mom standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Ms Lee.” You sounded astonished and you hoped she wasn’t too offended by the fact you were standing in her house with your sandals still covered in sand. “I didn’t know you were home. I’m sorry to barge in.”

“Always such a sweet girl.” She waved her hands at you like you were ridiculous for apologizing for such a small thing and your heart warmed when she crossed the room to hold your face gently. “You’re friends with my son again? I’ll take that as a good sign.”

You smiled lightly and just nodded at her, not having the nerve to tell her you weren’t exactly friends and he definitely wasn’t doing as well as the hope in her voice led you to believe she thought he was.

“You were always so good for him. He worried so much about you never forgiving him for leaving but you must understand it wasn’t his fault.” Her hands were warm on your face and you felt a lot of guilt as she spoke.

You weren’t exactly sure you were supposed to be hearing this so you didn’t ask her any questions or pry.

Heeseung must’ve heard his moms voice because he looked flustered by the time he came out of his room, barely pulling his shirt over his head as he crossed into the kitchen and looked between the two of you.

“Ma, what are you doing back?” His voice sounded overly similar to how it used to as he comfortably addressed her and the difference shocked you.

“Don’t make me sound like such a bother.” She was lightly scolding him before letting go of your face and you immediately missed the warmth of her hands and gaze. “I was just telling y/n how happy I am you two are together again.”

Your eyes widened at the same time his did and your face flushed bright red at the implication that she thought you and Heeseung were dating now, along with how she apparently had thought you’d been dating beforehand too.

“Oh relax you two. I just mean together as in the same space.” She laughed and waved her hands in dismissal again but you definitely didn’t relax. “Where is he taking you?”

It took you a few seconds to realize she was addressing you and your mouth parted in silence, fumbling for an answer since you didn’t actually know where he was planning for the two of you to go.

“It’s a surprise Ma.” His voice was gentle and so was the kiss he laid on the side of her head, her eyes shutting happily as he kissed her teeth and rubbed him on his shoulder. “But we’ve gotta get going.”

She was shooing you away without another word and giving you a heavy glance that you didn’t really understand, following behind Heeseung as he led you out back through the side entrance that came out onto their driveway.

“Oh holy shit. You still have this thing?” You were curling your nose up at the sight of the old beat up pickup truck that his grandpa used to drive you all around in.

You always got the luxury of sitting on one of the other two seats inside since you were the only girl but all the boys had a blast everytime they had to pile into the bed and feel the wind drying them off as you drove home from the beaches and waterfalls.

Heeseung’s grandpa had died when you were about twelve and the truck sat in the driveway for many years until his grandma was giving him the keys for his 16th birthday, a wink and a swift warning before sending him off to pick you all up.

“I still remember you outside my house blaring on the horn.” You were smiling to yourself as you went around the front so you could climb into the passenger side, feeling the rough leather.

He was getting in a second after you and you tried your best to stare as he situated himself and cleared his throat before putting the truck into drive.

Your gaze on him made him glance your way as he was backing out but it barely lasted a blink before he was looking away.

You waited an hour before you were speaking again, spending the entire time with the windows down and the sound of the loud wind filling up whatever silence the old radio left. It was playing some tape his grandpa had left behind and his hands were tapping the steering wheel in time with it.

It felt the most like your old times with him than anything else had so far and you had to remind yourself that things were still different.

You may have taken this drive with him a dozen times but things had changed. His hand wasn’t on your knee drawing shapes and your eyes weren’t bright and filled with love as you laughed and yelled over the music together.

That picture was a lot warmer than what reality was and you glanced over at him again.

The mountains were stretching behind his side profile now that you were farther away from town than you usually went and he looked so relaxed and calm that you almost felt bad for ruining the silence.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going anytime soon?” You were turning your body so your back was against the car door and your legs were curled into the middle seat, a few inches from the side of his thigh.

He didn’t answer you right away and you scoffed in annoyance at his audacity to just ignore you straight to your face like he hadn’t been the one to invite you here. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked away from him in upset but he was pulling onto the side of the road and parking the car before you could get really mad.

You sat there for a few seconds while he gripped the steering wheel and you took the time to glance around the area.

It was a long dirt road with a lot of thick trees and bushy areas, no other cars or parking lots in site. You were beyond confused and if it was anyone else with you then you’d even feel a little scared but despite Heeseung feeling like a stranger, he wasn’t one.

“Are you okay with walking a bit?” His voice was low when he finally spoke and you noticed he sounded similar to how he did while talking to his mom earlier, your heart tugging at how casual he was being towards you after weeks of hearing him sound so angry and empty.

“Y-yeah.” Your eyes widened at the sudden question and you felt embarrassed for stuttering even though he didn’t seem to care considering he was nodding and getting out of the truck. “Not a problem.” You mumbled to yourself before following him.

He was disappearing into the tree line and you would have been more confused if you didn’t see the faintest evidence of an old trail that had clearly been overgrown.

Heeseung was confident in his steps and every turn he took seemed like it was practiced so you quickly gathered that he knew exactly where he was and you wondered when he would have come out here enough to be this knowledgeable about it.

You were together pretty much all the time as kids and as far as you knew he hadn’t gone anywhere since coming back to town so his mystery was just growing even more to you.

You’d been walking for about twenty minutes with just the sounds of snapping sticks and the wind rustling the trees before it was opening up to reveal a small waterfall and a pond amongst the trees.

The bank was completely made up of rocks and fallen tree logs, something completely different than the sandy shores you were used to. You could tell right away this wasn’t a place for swimming but you just kept following him as he hopped onto the large boulders before eventually sitting on one.

You watched the side of his face as you waited for him to explain and he just watched the view with a slightly pained expression.

“Can you… can you not look at me.” His first words hit you hard and you flinched at the rough tone he’d taken on again. “Please it just will make this easier.”

Although confused, you nodded and opted for instead staring at the way your feet were dangling over the open water. Your thighs were burning from the rough edge of the boulder and the height you were sat at was slightly intimidating but you willed yourself to not look at him no matter how much you wanted to.

“I came here the day that I left. Stole the truck and ran out of the house even though my mom was practically tripping over herself in the driveway trying to get me to stop. I think she thought if I went I wouldn’t come back.” He took a break for you to process what he was telling you and the last sentence hit you hard.

You knew he loved his mom and hearing about her fear and what actually went down the day they moved away was almost too much and you considered asking him to stop talking.

Instead you clenched your hand onto the cold boulders surface and waited for him to keep going.

“It was a world of things that don’t matter anymore, never fucking matter but I need you to understand how much I regret it.” You could feel him looking at you now.

“I should have said goodbye to you and I should’ve answered your letters but I knew I’d come back the second I heard a single word from you and I couldn’t leave her alone. She needed me and I figured you’d be okay with the others. You’d hate me but you’d be okay.”

His voice was getting shakier and you couldn’t resist looking at him anymore although he didn’t look upset that you had done so, his hand stretching the distance between you so he could grip your hand that was practically clawing at the stone.

You squeezed his warm hand tight in yours as you sniffled and the tears built up quickly when you saw how nervous he looked.

“And I’m so fucking sorry for what I did to you at Sunghoon’s.” He grit his teeth as he said it like it pained him to remember and your stomach turned uncomfortably, almost feeling sick at the memory of how shut off he had been now. Especially comparing it to the way he was looking at you now. “I was angry at myself and took it out on you. It was fucking disgusting.”

A sob hit you at that and you don’t know if him scooting closer made you feel better or worse but you leaned into him anyways and felt your heart calm at the way he wrapped his arms around you.

“Y/n I don’t regret it okay? Just the way that it happened but you know… I-I hope you know that I’ve always-“ He sighed and stopped talking like he couldn’t find the words and you wiped your face quickly.

You leaned away from him just enough to get a good look at his face and he looked panicked like he didn’t know how you were going to respond.

“You’re not high right now right?”

His face fell in hurt at your question before it was turning into understanding and guilty, the shake of his head not doing nearly enough to lessen your worries which he quickly seemed to notice because he was leaning closer and making sure you could see him when he spoke.

“I’m not high I promise you. I haven’t been since that night on the beach.” He sounded genuine and you would have believed him before but you didn’t know him now and he easily could’ve been lying to you. “How can I help you know that?”

The desperation in his question and expression made him look so much younger and another sob hit you as you started to see him for who he was.

Not some corpse like imposter who had moved back to town and taken the identity of your old friend and lover but just a lost and confused Heeseung who had clearly gone through something you didn’t understand yet.

So when you kissed him it wasn’t for any other reason this time, it wasn’t because you just wanted to feel that he was actually there or because you thought there was no other way to be close to him again but it was because you wanted him to know that you believed him and you were patient.

You’d been patient and you’d continue to be because Sunghoon had been right when he said you always loved Heeseung and you’d constantly choose him.

Something in you told you that this time he’d do his best to choose you too, his hands holding your face so gently and his thumbs swiping soothingly over your cheeks to rid you of the constant stream of tears despite his own wetting his face too.

You weren’t even really sure what you were crying for.

If it was for the pain he’d put you through or the pain he was dealing with himself. Maybe it was because of the lost time and the years you could’ve spent together or the relief at not having to experience his absence again, something beautiful in the way you were holding each other and sharing the grief of what could have been.

You could only hope that what will be would be worth every tear in the end.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enhypen au #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #heeseung angst #heeseung au #heeseung smut #heeseung imagine #heeseung x reader #heeseung fic #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung

1K notes · View notes

demonicbaby666 · 2 months

Note

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away.

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening.

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought.

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog.

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?"

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question.

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company."

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's.

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile.

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment.

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks.

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route.

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing.

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh.

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers.

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch.

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down.

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble.

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements.

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?"

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust.

"That's a good girl."

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance.

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field.

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb.

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk.

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her.

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs.

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth.

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her.

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did.

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told.

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt.

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further.

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked.

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless.

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests.

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless.

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about.

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks.

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers.

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head.

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn.

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away.

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown.

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick.

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her.

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat.

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you.

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious.

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears.

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far.

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?"

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance.

"Get up."

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet.

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye.

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest.

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back.

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was.

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours.

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?"

"Emily, please," you begged.

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing."

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that.

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk.

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?"

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you.

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement.

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly.

"Did I say you could do that?"

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle.

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on."

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities.

"Beg," she instructed.

And you heeded.

"Please. I need you."

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it.

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it."

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching.

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm.

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office.

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second.

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust.

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand.

"You'd better be quiet then."

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be.

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming.

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming."

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk."

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm.

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore.

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile.

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door.

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed."

"But-"

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs.

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans.

Tags: @ssa-sapphic @aws-l @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @jenna-ortega-is-pretty17177 @supercorpstan97 @kenyakimble34 @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @summoned-lust-demon @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @asolitaryrose3 @imlike-so-gaydude @maybe-a-humanbean @taylorswiftsboyfriend @bossofcriminalminds @asphodelvamp @jareguiromanoff @lilfartbox1 @lovelyy-moonlight @patronagrona @lostenby @storiesofsvu @mrs-prentiss @romanoffsho @paulilvsremus @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @lesbodietcoke @homo-oddity @milfsincrime @noahrex @pnsteblnme @asolitaryrose3 | click here to be added to my taglist

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #emily prentiss x y/n #lgbt #Emily Prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #cm

775 notes · View notes