#STRANGERS AT ODDS FORCED TO WORK TOGETHER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saturnsorbits · 30 days

Text

Thirst Trap: Caught Desperate

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Smut, Prone Bone, Spanking, Pictures - Consensual. Word Count: 4k.

Summary: Read the Intro -> Here.

A/N: Idek what the fuck this is. I've genuinely forgotten how to write - smut especially apparently.

-> Part of the 'Thirst Trap' Collab.

Make sure to check out the other incredibly talented authors through the link above and don’t forget to leave a nice comment and reblog if you liked their work!

The first thing he feels is panic.

His phone won't stop. It vibrates against his palm, stirring up a numbness that radiates through his callouses as the screen flickers. The near constant updates create a blur he can't follow, the dull flashes summoning a sharp edge to the headache that has already started to press at the sides of his skull.

Fuck. He sighs, digs a knuckle into the corner of his eye and brackets his hand across his forehead. His PR team might actually murder him for this one.

Prodding at his screen, he manages to slow the endless roll of his feed. The replies are positive, mostly. His fanbase isn't exactly small and, according to the last PR meeting he was forced to attend, they were also predominately women. Although, looking at his phone now, he'd say the divide was probably about 50:50.

Curiosity getting the best of him, he scrolls...

The first few replies he sees are simple enough: suggestive emoji's, notes of amusement, the odd heckle about the size of his cock. Then, there are the more fun ones: the ones calling him a slut, asking to give him more than just head or being up front with their solicitations.

Huffing out a breath, he unfurls, spreading out on the bed and stretching an arm up behind his head. His pants are still unbuckled and pulled to the broadest point of his hips, a casualty of his drunken state. Underneath, his cock presses against the denim – twitching with every mention of the things his fans plead to do to him.

He shouldn't.

He knows its wrong.

Knows that he shouldn't indulge himself.

He shouldn't be thinking about fucking his fist to the thought of an anonymous stranger drooling down his balls, his cock bulging from their cheek, holes stretched out around him as he rolls his hips searching for the thing inside of them that'll make them scream.

His hand cups his pec, broad palm circling gently until he can catch his nipple with each slow pass. It's surprising how quickly his cock catches on. He can feel it leaking, soaking through patches of his underwear as it begs to be released. Letting his hand slip down his body, he feels the tension shake in his abdomen. He's wound tight, muscles shivering even under his own touch as he sinks his hand into his jeans and finally, squeezes his cotton-clothed cock.

He should stop.

Fuck, he should just delete the tweet and get a glass of water.

… And maybe a cold shower.

Licking over his teeth, he's reluctant when he slips his hand back out of his jeans and slams it, somewhat sticky, against his sheets. His cock protests, throbbing with the new lack of friction after being granted so little. It makes it hard to focus, the rolling pit in his stomach, the pulsing of his body – even without his alcohol impairing his judgement, his desire pleads a strong case for him to simply submit.

Bakugo swallows and moves to swipe away from the possibly career-changing tweet on his screen, but the feed is faster than he is.

It isn't the message that catches his eye, not at first anyway. No. It's the username. Your username.

He clenches his jaw.

Immediately, you fill his senses. It had barely been a few hours since you'd had your arms wrapped around his neck, your bodies pressed together as you swayed on the dance floor. If he tried, he swears he'd still be able to feel the soft skin of your thigh grazing against his fingertips as his hand had found its way under the edge of your dress. Your perfume had been intoxicating. A subtle mix of vanilla bean, sandalwood and your sweat had drifted from your collarbones and infested his senses, luring him right to the edge of what he'd known would get him into a whole heap of shit.

That was before he'd made that fucking post, of course.

Now, he was starting to wonder if taking you home would have been the right move all along.

His promises be damned.

Chewing at his lip, he lifts his thumb, revealing the message attached to your name. 'Thought you said you weren't that desperate, huh.' His stomach lurches.

The memories come quick then, fighting through the fog of too many whiskey's and regret.

He'd meant it as a joke, he really had, something to give him some pace, to make you think twice, think of the consequences – but he's never been good at managing his tone and at almost midnight even his belligerence had felt semi-formal. You'd been too close, too pretty, with the promise of a night he wouldn't be able to forget laced between your teeth and he'd... Well, he'd done what he does best.

He'd pushed you away.

Your eyes shine in the dull lights outside of the club, the yellowing tinge spilling from the surrounding lamps doing nothing to diminish how stunning you look. The alcohol has blown out your eyes, swallowing your iris' almost whole – although, he'd like to think he had a hand in how truly taken you look right now. His hand is on your waist, equal amounts keeping you close and at bay as you bat your eyelashes prettily at him and pout.

'C'mon...' You press close, hand searching the expanse of his chest. His heart thunders underneath, picking up whenever you near his pecs, so you slip a had over his shoulder and use his height to ease yourself up onto your tip-toes. 'You've practically had your hand up my skirt all night, what's stopping you now?' You chuckle, clicking your tongue against your back teeth.

Bakugo's snarl twists his features before he can stop it. He can feel the barb, feel the world curl on the back of his tongue before he can do anything to stop it. It tumbles from his mouth, but even despite his attempt to spit it out softly – hoping it won't hurt too much, your nose wrinkles.

'You really think I'm that desperate?'

It's like you've been slapped.

Your hands tense on his shoulders, feet falling back flat to the floor. Part of you knows he's just trying to get a rise out of you, but you're beyond sick of the back and forth. It's been months of this, of you getting close enough to taste him only for him to retreat at the last moment, usually with a snarled comment he doesn't mean, or some silly excuse to protect that softly-beating heart everyone swears he doesn't have. Sighing, you step back – the tap of your heels like gunshots on the pavement as you raise your bag from the crook of your arm and back onto your shoulder. 'Obviously not.'

Your distance reads like rejection, burns a hole in his pride and makes him prickle. He shakes his head and slips his phone from his pocket intent on ordering his own taxi, despite the fact he can barely make out the squiggles he hopes are words. 'Fuckin' knew I shouldn't have let Red bring you-.'

After that the memories grow hazy.

He remembers how you'd somehow smoothed over the hiccup in the conversation, laughing it off in all probability, but even then, you'd never quite come as close to him as before. He remembers your laugh. Remembers how the melody of it had ricocheted around his brain in the taxi ride home. He remembers missing your warmth. He remembers the flash of guilt, his half-hard cock and drunken brain at war. He remembers his phone, the screen a pale blue, glowing. He remembers, he remembers his thumb hovering over your name.

He remembers chickening out...

Fuck.

Evidently, he hadn't chickened out hard enough.

Clicking onto your page, he checks your replies to make sure he hasn't hallucinated your response, but before he can even begin to obsess over it – his phone pings in his hand.

It's a message. A real one. Not something filtered in through his socials. With shaking hands, he opens it and pauses.

He has your number saved under your first name.

Just your first name.

Not 'Sidekick''. Not your full title. Or what department you work in. You don't even have a stupid moniker. For fucks sake, he's called Kirishima 'Shitty Hair' in every single phone he's had since high school, and Todoroki has remained solely Todoroki – even despite the fact, both him and his father share the title.

He doesn't dwell on the reasoning.

Instead, he opens the message and is immediately confronted with a screenshot of his tweet. He cringes. Your reply is underneath it, racking up too many likes for his taste, and underneath that is your text.

You: 'You really are fucking desperate, aren't you?'

He waits, palms sweating, watching as three little dot appear and disappear and then, reappear again.

You: 'Can't even reply to me?'

You: 'You could at least turn your read receipts off. I can see you reading the messages.'

You: 'For fucks sake, Bakugo?'

His pulse quickens, thrumming strong and rhythmic under his skin as if to remind him what it is to be near you. The joints in his fingers have frozen, despite the energy rushing through his body demanding movement. Through the haze of his vision he sees you typing again.

You: 'Can we stop doing this now?'

Yes. Bakugo thinks. God, yes. The room spins as he cranes his neck down at his phone, eyes unfocused... His heart and cock war on, but now, the alcohol makes it far too easy for the tide to sway. Flexing his thumbs, he taps back a message before he can think better of it, before the noise of his life and expectation and the world outside can eat away at him again.

Bakugo: 'Please.'

Your reply takes a second this time, forcing the air in his lungs to crystallize; but before he can drum up too many doubts, there's your name again lighting up his screen.

You: Is that the great Dynamight saying please?

Bakugo: Fuck off.

You: Fuck off, or fuck you?

Bakugo's cock twitches in his jeans. He's so hard it's almost painful now, causing an ache to spread up the deep lines of his hips and radiating through his pelvis. Reaching down, he palms at himself again feeling the heft of his desire in his palm. He types back, one handed, the other already occupied.

Bakugo: Don't play with me. You know he'll kill the both of us.

You: I never did get to give you your birthday present.

Furrowing his brow, Bakugo is taps out a series of question marks – unimpressed with the idea of birthday cake when he had come to expect something a whole lot different, but before the thought can fully depress him – another message comes through.

It's a screenshot. The one this entire conversation began with – his own message glowing from his screen. Except this time, underneath is a message that makes his breath catch in a whole new way.

You: 'This offer for everyone, or just everyone who isn't me?'

Bakugo: You.

Bakugo: It was just for you.

Bakugo stills, his breath jammed in the back of his throat as his brain catches up with his fingers.

Fuck.

He shouldn't be doing this.

He should of just had a wank to all of the filth being sent from his fans. Even that would get him in less trouble than this. Part of him wants to back out, wants to claim a hack or come up with some other equally unbelievable and shitty lie so he can turn tail and run, but there's no way back now. He knows that much. His cock is hard and heavy between his thighs, his drunken mind too far from sober for him to see reason.

He types back.

You don't bother changing. You'd dressed to impress after all. Instead, you snatch a condom from your brothers stash tuck it into your bra and order a taxi, checking the address Bakugo had sent you three times before finally confirming the ride.

The journey is short and sweet, filled with anticipation and the soft jazz that trickles through the radio of the car. You've been waiting for this, grown tired of the will they won't they that had lead to this moment, but now it's here, you find yourself: nervous.

The car mounts the curb, almost sending you sprawling, then a tenner and a lift ride later, you're at his door.

He opens it before you knock looking a little more together, but still drunk. You can feel it too, the alcohol still flooding your system and making everything just a little easier. Still, nothing is as easy as coming together. You mouth drops open, an unspoken question lingering on your tongue and then, Bakugo is on you.

'C'mere.' Using one hand, he hooks it around your waist and tugs at you to him. Your bodies collide, palms coming up to rest against his chest as you peer up at him. He doesn't know how he's resisted you for so long, how he's kept true and stopped this. After all, looking at you now cradled in his arms, it is obvious this was nothing, but inevitable.

Your lips come together easily. The kiss is harsh, full of pent up tension and a longing that has broken you both. He nips at your bottom lip before you flick your tongue against his teeth, tasting him properly as he lets you in.

'Holy shit.' Panting, you claw at him – your hands are everywhere: at his buttons, his chest, wrapped in the chain circling his neck. He pays you back in kind grabbing at your hips, taking handfuls of you with an eagerness that radiates through his entire body.

With an unceremonious grunt, he bends at the knees, slipping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up against his waist. He pulls back a slither, blinking at you, his shoulders straining at he takes your entire weight with ease and presses you into the wall of his hallway. A wicked grin takes his lips as you squeak, arms and legs wrapping around him to cling on. 'Hang on.'

He kisses you again then, pressed to the wall, but before you can catch you're breath he's off. You make a stop at a small counter where he presses his clothed cock to your cunt, letting you feel just what you're getting yourself into and again at the wall outside of his bedroom. There he almost leaves your neck raw, biting and sucking, but never enough to leave too much of a mark.

You stumble into his bedroom still cradled in Bakugo's arms. There's sure to be bruises on your elbows, a symptom of attempting to peel him from his shirt while he careened through the doorway, but as your back hitting the bed and Bakugo hovering over you, you find it hard to care. Reaching into your bra, you slip out the condom with two fingers and present it to him by waving it under his nose.

Taking it with his teeth, he grins as you let out a sigh that settles in his bones. Beneath him, you look insatiable. Your eyes have blown out, the black of your iris' banishing whatever colour had once been there. The dress he'd been so anxious to get under all night is rumpled, the slit cast aside exposing the thickness of your thighs and a slither of cunt covered by a pair of soft-looking red lace. The bodice is low, the heaving of your chest apparent – your tits held high, pressed together and begging for his hands. Slipping a hand up your thigh, he brushes his fingers across the flesh and earns himself the most pretty of moans.

'I knew you'd break.' Lifting your leg, you kick out at him softly – the ball of your heel connecting with his shoulder. You perch on your elbows, eyes swollen, the pulse of your cunt matching the beating of your heart. It's been rough until now, a clash of teeth and nails, but its hard not to notice the bare desire you see splayed out in his eyes. It's mixed with carmine, a colour that barely covers what, if nurtured, could become love. 'Knew I'd have you.'

He grabs your ankle and pulls on reflex, yanking you down the bed. 'Did you?' Under his skin he feels feral. Something that's only made worse when you lick your lips and nod.

His restraint snaps. Grabbing at your hips, he kneads the fat there before flipping you over. You bounce, a scream escaping your throat, but he quickly transforms the sound into a moan with a harsh slap against your ass.

'Thought you wanted head?' You laugh, feeling your skin prickle under him. There's a rustle behind you, the tell tale sound of him shucking down his jeans and then, his fingers are pulling your underwear away from your cunt and exposing you to the air.

'You always this much of a brat?'

You wriggle and lift up your hips. 'You always this hard for me? Oh wait...' You chuckle. 'You are.'

A growl rumbles in his throat, but it's not anger he's feeling. Taking his cock in his hand, he gives himself a cursory pass – the stickiness of his own pre cum making it easy. His head rocks back on his shoulders. With a bottle of whiskey still coursing through his vein's he's more than sensitive, the simple passes of his hand having him ready to blow – God only knows what the feel of your cunt will do to him.

'C'mon... Fuck me, forget the condom – just -.' Reaching behind you, you attempt to grab at him – to pull him close, get him to touch, to taste.

Chuckling to himself, he bats your hand away easily. 'Nah-ah-ah. Don't think you deserve me raw, sweetheart. Only good girls get that.' He squeezes the base of his cock, stopping a premature end as he tears through the tinfoil of the condom and slips it on.

You go to whine, to kick your feet and protest him not giving into you, but you're not even given the chance.

The first thing you feel is impossibly full. The next is overwhelming pleasure. Bakugo hadn't wasted time prepping you and to be honest, you hadn't needed it. You're soaking, cunt dribbling greedily onto his mattress – like you haven't been waiting forever for this moment. You arc your back, one hand fisting his bed sheets as the other curls around the wrist he plants beside your head. The pace he's set is brutal, each thrust pushing deeper inside of you, taking you as he pleases as you cling on and submit to it.

'Where's the cheek now, huh?' He pants. Honestly, he's surprised he's not cum already. Your cunt milks him, squeezing him so deliciously that he doesn't think he'll ever find anyone better.

Then again, he know what they say about forbidden fruit.

''m sorry.' You moan, back curling as he fucks you harder. It's pathetic how he's barely given you anything and yet, you're already creaming around him. Your body begs for release, teetering you on the precipice of ecstasy as he uses you relentlessly.

'No your not...' Bakugo chokes out, teeth bared as he clings to the last threads of his control. Your tight now, too tight to not be close and if the way you're moaning and almost drooling onto his bed is anything to go by – he's not wrong. Leaning over you, he licks a thick stripe up between your shoulder blades before resting his lips by your ear. When he speaks is a growl, a command that comes from deep within his chest. 'Touch yourself... C'mon, show me how pretty you cum.'

You don't need telling twice. Forcing your arm beneath you, you draw quick, awkward circles on your clit and have to remind yourself to breathe. Your orgasm hits you like a train. Every muscle in your body tenses, your eyes rolling back into your skull as the high continues to roll through your body. It feels like a millennia until you come back again, until your limbs begin to feel under your own control and you become aware of Bakugo still frantically prolonging your high.

'Shit, shit, shit...' Pulling out, he ignores your protests before quickly rolling off the condom. It takes a singular pass of his fist before he cums, a grunt thrown from his chest as he releases himself over your ass. His mess is sticky, a pearlescent sheen that drips between your cheeks and onto your raw cunt – your clit still twitching.

In a moment of madness, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of the scene. In it, only the edge of your dress can be seen, coupled with the most distant droplets of his spend as it decorates the skin of your thighs.

'Post it.' Craning over your shoulder, you hiss at the new soreness in your limbs as you roll onto your back. You tilt your head, signature mischief returning to your cheeks. 'Got to let those fan girls know you've already being taken care of...' You flash a smile. 'And I'd really hate to see your DM's right now.'

Against his better judgement, he tosses you his phone. 'Knock yourself out.'

It's almost six in the morning when you finally settle for bed. You'd gone another three rounds. Once in shower, over the vanity in the hallway and then, again in his bed and each time had seen both of you aching and sore and more than pleased with yourselves. You'd posted the picture and Bakugo's phone hadn't been quiet since – not that you minded. It wasn't like anyone could really tell what it was. The lighting was awful, the image blurred and you'd cropped it so there was no chance of anyone figuring out who you were.

Still, the idea of it stirs up something hot and heavy in your stomach.

You'd laid your claim now.

'I will never know how you're such a demon when you're brother's a God damn golden boy.' Bakugo's breathing has just about leveled out, you hand rising and falling in a more subtle rhythm where it lays on the center of his chest.

You wrinkle your nose. 'Can we not talk about my brother while I can still feel your cum dripping down my ass, please.'

Bakugo chufs, but relents. His thumb rubs soft circles in the skin of your shoulder, a gentle beckoning to sleep as both of you watch the sun rise and fill his bedroom window with a brilliant orange. 'Stay?' He kisses your forehead. 'I'll make you breakfast.'

Nuzzling into him, you're about to agree – mind already reeling at the possibilities of Bakugo's cooking and another round at a more respectable hour – but, all thoughts cease when Bakugo's phone pings with a message.

'If this is my fucking publicist you can explain yourself.' Bakugo tuts, but there's still a warmth in his smile that betrays his annoyance.

You giggle. 'Happy to.'

Flipping over his phone in his hand, Bakugo's mouth drops open when the screen glows to light his face.

There's only one message on the screen.

And it isn't from his publicist.

Shitty Hair: 'Really dude, my fucking sister?'

#bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #mha smut #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

617 notes · View notes

0nlythrowharrybeaux · 8 months

Text

With Discretion

Here it is! I hope you guys like part 1. Part 2 is in the works. I am planning for this to be a 2 parter, 3 at the most haha we'll see! You can find more of my work here. In the meantime enjoy this one! (Once again, gif credits to @londonharry 🫶🏻)

Warnings: Infidelity (adultery), inappropriate relationship, mentions of drinking/partying, mild dirty talk, slight praise kink, multiple and forced orgasms, dry humping, choking, oral sex (f receiving described, m receiving mentioned), fingering, sex (protected & unprotected)

WC: 12.7K

You had never intended on sleeping with your husband, Caleb’s, boss but you had six months ago and you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since. It was overwhelmingly excellent and of course, unforgettable. You didn’t even feel guilty anymore when you fantasized about him when you and Cal would sleep together. The way it developed felt almost like a TV drama scriptwriter had taken over your life and was writing your character into a completely surreal situation.

You had suspicions that Cal was having an affair. You lived in the suburbs so his commutes to work were nearly an hour there and back, so when he had to work late it made sense to get a hotel and stay the night in the city. But it was hard to miss the fact that over the course of the past year, the odd late night at the office had suddenly become more commonplace.

At first you thought nothing of it, but one day he made the mistake of using your joint account to make a reservation at one of the fancier restaurants in the city. You just so happened to be checking the activity of the account that afternoon because you were expecting a reimbursement from a purchase you had made for a client a few weeks before. A simple call to the restaurant confirmed your suspicions that it was a reservation for two. And not even an hour later, you’d received the usual text he sent when he was “working late”. Maybe it was just for business but to verify, you decided to show up at his office an hour before the reservation. Their building was a skyscraper and housed a couple different offices, but when you made it to the 23rd floor and it was pretty desolate your suspicion started rising. You had only visited his office once when he’d first go hired. He had brought you along on a Sunday to help him set up and decorate without disturbing any of his coworkers. The building had been just as vacant as it was tonight. Regardless, you headed over to his office and saw the blinds and door were closed, so you knocked just in case and after not receiving any response you opened it up and peeked inside to find it empty with no sign of him even coming back and you sighed.

The feeling of reality just bitch slapping you across the face was strong, but before you could even start to feel any disappointment your entire body froze when a deep voice came from behind you: “Excuse me, can I help you with something?”

The man before you was striking, it stunned you for a second, suspending time as you looked deep into his furrowed eyebrows. He seemed concerned that a stranger was peeking into the CFO’s office. You were quick to explain that you were Caleb’s wife and were stopping by to see if he wanted a dinner break since he was working late. That’s when he introduced himself as Harry Styles, CEO, and verified that he’d only asked Caleb to stay late twice in the 3 years he’d been working for him. When he saw your face fall he caught on quickly and immediately apologized. You then explained that you had suspicions of Cal’s unfaithfulness for months now and had actually come in to confirm your suspicions. He asked if there was anything he could do to help, but you assured him there was not and went home.

You were devastated initially, but as time went on you were just annoyed that you hadn’t caught on sooner. It seemed so obvious now that you were aware, there was even more damning evidence that you had failed to see before. And well, you were afraid of what this meant for you because Cal was a bit older than you and he had money, and had some personal funds invested in your event planning business. You wanted to fight about it or to get him back, but you had a lot to lose if your marriage ended so you decided to be selfish & just let it be. At least now you knew and you could just start to move on emotionally.

A few months after that interaction with Mr. Styles, Cal had left for a “business trip” with all of the top executives from the office. So you and your friends took a trip to the city to bar hop a bit and much to your surprise, you saw Mr. Styles leaning against the bar and you made your way over and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around he was surprised to see you of all people.

“Why’s the CEO of the company not in Tokyo for the all executive business trip?” You had asked with a playful grin.

“Because there’s no business trip to Tokyo.” He responded with a smirk.

You had expected Cal to lie, but the confirmation of it had once again made you close another emotional tie to your husband. Harry had been so kind and ended up buying drinks for you and your friends for the night and even brought you guys into the VIP area with him and his friends.

He was fun, sweet, and very attentive. Even a little flirty with you, dare you say, but you chalked it up to the drinks you’d each had. But as the night progressed your friends and Harry’s friends slowly started disappearing one by one. And nearing 1am it was just you and one of your more drunken friends along with Harry & a couple others from his group. Your friend, Cece, was plastered and you wanted to get her to bed so you thanked Harry for his generosity and let him know that you would be heading out, but he insisted that his car service drop you guys off at your hotel. Your friend ended up passing out in the car and because of this, Harry offered to help you get her up to her room. Once she was safe in her own room for the night Harry walked you up to your room and well, that soon turned into a lot more than you had expected…

… SIX MONTHS EARLIER …

“Thank you so much for helping me get her up here.” You smiled as you held your friend Cecilia’s door open as Harry hurried by, carrying her bridal style to her bed.

“Not a problem.” He assured as he gently set her down. She groaned and stirred a bit, “We should probably leave a bin within reach.” He glanced back to you as the heavy door closed with a loud thud.

“Good thinking.” You smiled as you hurried over to the other end of the room where a trashcan was nestled beneath the desk. You sighed when you saw that the liner had not been put in and was just sitting neatly at the bottom so you bent down to do just that.

Harry didn’t mean to ogle you the way he had been all night, but he couldn’t help himself. You looked absolutely breathtaking and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how Caleb could just screw you over the way he was. Harry didn’t even know he was married until you had shown up at the building a few months back looking for him. In his eyes Caleb was immature and a complete fool, even if he was 15 years his senior. Because if he had someone like you at his side he would never dream of doing anything to jeopardize that.

“Alright, that’s all set.” You said as you put the garbage can by Cecilia’s bedside, flicked on the bedside lamp, and then turned around to smile at him.

“Well at least she had a lot of fun.” He said as you started making your way out of the room.

“Exactly.” You giggled as you shut off the big lights and opened up the door and you both made it back into the hall. You walked to the elevator in a comfortable silence and then stopped before it, you turned to him to say goodnight.

“Are you up or down?” He asked you as he walked up to the buttons on the wall.

“Up. Much to my displeasure.” You mumbled and he smiled.

“Scared of heights?” He asked and you nodded in confirmation, “Me too. I hate that my office is all windows.” He said with a chuckle, “First time I got in there I decided to look out of it and I got a spell of vertigo for a few hours.” He admitted and you frowned a bit.

“Oh wow, so it’s bad.”

“Yeah, awful.” He confirmed just as the elevator chimed to indicate it’s arrival.

“You don’t have to take me up, I know it’s late and-”

“No, it’s alright. Just want to make sure you get in safe.” He assured as you both stepped inside.

“Thanks, that’s sweet of you.” You smiled as you pressed the button to the 15th floor.

“It’s nothing.” He assured you with a smile, “Ummm…you can tell me to fuck off if I’m prying, but I guess I’ve just noticed that you don’t seem all that upset about Caleb cheating and lying to you about his whereabouts.” He said and you sighed.

“I was at first, after I went to the office?” You reminded and he nodded, “But I then decided that it was out of my hands and like…I don’t know, it’s not that I don’t love him enough, but I just…don’t want to fight and if all this is is like a fling or midlife crisis,” you giggled, “It’ll sort itself out.” You explained and he hummed. “It might also have a lot to do with everyone telling me that marrying and older man was a bad idea.” You admitted with a slight smile and he did as well.

“So no one was supportive?”

“Not really.” You confessed.

“How old are you now, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“30, turning 31 soon.” You said.

“Oh, I just turned 31! It’s just as annoying.” He assured and you giggled.

“Good. People’ve been a lot more invested in my personal life since I turned 30.”

“Oh yeah…"when are you getting married?", "Are you going to have children?", "When are you going to start acting your age?"…” he recited all of the same questions people seemed to concerned to know the answers to and you chuckled.

“Exactly.” You hummed, “I mean, I was 24 when we got married. Literally fresh out of grad school. That same summer.” You said and he hummed in understanding.

“Did you date long?”

“A year and a half or so? We met at an entrepreneurial convention and I was manning a booth for the place I was working at, at the time and we just got to talking. You know how he can just get along with anyone…” you explained and he nodded. “I did fall hard and fast…but I mean, I think he just wanted to snatch me up before I lost interest or something because I wasn’t in a rush to be married. But he seemed to be and well, I agreed because I did love him-er I do, sorry! I do love him.” You corrected yourself, feeling a bit shocked by your fumble.

“I mean, feelings can change.” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah…I mean, clearly his have.” You said as the doors opened up on your floor.

“I mean, sounds like yours have too a bit.” He said as you started guiding him down the hall.

“I think you made a mistake in walking me to my room. I’m pretty deep in.” You explained, changing the subject and he smiled at you.

“It’s no bother. I quite like talking to you.” He said and you smiled up at him.

“I ummm…like talking to you too, Harry.” You assured him. “So what about you? Any lucky lads or ladies?” You asked him and he chuckled.

“Hmmm, sometimes, but not to any serious capacity. I’m always so busy with the firm.” He explained, “It’s not like I don’t want that though…I just want to make sure that when I do have that it’s…as right for me as possible. I don’t know, not so big on wasting people’s time, you know? Like if I were in your shoes I would make a fuss and try to get even in someway…” he said and you chuckled.

“So vengeful!” You teased.

“Well you’re married to the guy! You made a commitment to each other, you know? It’s just disrespectful in my opinion. If something changed for him then he should say that instead of sneaking off with someone else, you know?”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” You concurred as you made another turn, “But if I were to “get him back” or give him a taste of his own medicine I’m just not sure that it would make anything better for me at least.” You explained as you slowed down as you reached your door, “Like, do I think bout it sometimes, yeah! Of course I do.” You chuckled, “But I don’t think it would impact him in any way. I wouldn’t advertise it to him either, you know?” You explained as you glanced down and opened up your bag to search for your key.

“Well if not to get back at him then just for yourself. I mean, if he’s out there getting his ego boosted by who knows who, why wouldn’t you?” Harry asked and you smiled as your eyes flickered up to his.

“I mean…thankfully, I don’t think I need that validation from anyone else.” You explained and he smiled a bit, “I know who I am and I am happy with who I am, in every way. And, not to sound arrogant, but I know what I bring to the table as a partner and if that’s not enough for someone then… their loss.” You concluded with a simple shrug.

“You’re absolutely extraordinary.” He said softly, as if he were in awe of you. You felt your cheeks warming as all of the blood rushed to your face at his compliment and you looked away. Bashfully shaking your head as if that would help ward off the feeling his compliment elicited from you.

“Hardly.” You said lowly and suddenly his hands were on your face and he was tilting you up to look up at him. His touch was gentle as his eyes flickered back and forth over your own.

“You are, Y/N.” He assured you softly and you felt like your were on cloud 9, your hands grabbed around his wrists firmly, “If I had you, I would never be so careless with you.” He said with so much conviction.

His words made your heart beat wildly and your insides melt. You were so affected by him, it was getting hard to keep yourself together in his presence. He was overwhelming in the best way and you wanted to feel completely immersed in the energy that he exuded. The attraction that was brewing between the two of you was reaching its boiling point. It was getting hard to ignore the signals of desire that your body had been giving off since you started hanging out earlier. But now, the subtlety was gone…your pupils were blown wide, his were as well. You were running hot all over, but particularly between your legs, you were so wet for Harry, you were certain that your panties were an absolutely sticky mess at the crotch.

“I think I-uh…sh-should ummm…get inside.” You stumbled on such simple words because you were trying so hard to just behave for another few seconds.

“Yeah.” He agreed, but neither of your were letting each other go. “Did you find your room key?” He asked and you nodded.

“S’in my purse.” You assured and he nodded and reluctantly let you go.

“Good.” He smiled as you dug back into your little bag and retrieved it to show him, “Alright, in you go.” He said softly and you turned around and slid the key into the slot, waiting for it to turn green so that you could turn the handle. He was quick to step forward and help you push the heavy door open.

“Thank you.” You hummed as you stepped past the threshold and turned to face him again, “Thank you for literally everything. The drinks, the laughs, the ride, the chat…” you smiled at him and he returned the friendly gesture.

“It was my pleasure.” He assured you.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You smiled.

“Me too.” He confirmed, still standing at the door. Neither of you made a move to retreat.

“Ummm, can I…hug you?” You asked through a timid giggle and his dimples carved deep into his cheeks.

“Of course you can.” He said and you were quick to pull the latching lock out so that the door wouldn’t shut on you when he let it go.

You were going to hug around his body, but he hunched down at bit so you could reach him better, which resulted in your arms draping over his shoulders. Harry’s arms then naturally wrapped around your waist and as you closed the gap between your bodies you relaxed into his hold for a few seconds, leaning your head against his. He smelled divine, you were tempted to take a big inhale of him but decided against it almost instantly.

You initiated the pull back and your hands rested on his shoulders, your noses nearly brushing from how close you were. You started to close the gap as your eyes fluttered down to his lips and he nudged your face to the side a bit, allowing him to fit his face better against yours. "What am I doing?" Was the last thought you had before your eyes fluttered closed and your lips met his in a sensual kiss. You two pulled back almost instantly, lust and longing clouding your minds to a dangerous degree. But before you could decide against it, you tugged at the collar of his shirt as your lips smeared together urgently once again. One of his arms remained around your body as the other pushed the room door open until you were both shrouded in darkness. He blindly flipped back the latch and as soon as the heavy door closed your body was up against it as his hands found your face and held you in place as your kiss started to deepen.

You hadn’t been fucked in at least four months by that point and with the attraction that you felt towards Harry, you didn’t care that you were married. After all, Cal had already tainted the marriage with his own affair… with this in mind you just gave in. You licked into his mouth and he ended up moaning before he shoved his tongue past your lips. You guided his hands to the parts of your body that craved that long missed masculine touch. His hands felt bigger than Caleb’s and he was groping at your bottom the second you guided his hands there. He stayed there for a few minutes as you kissed heatedly, but soon he started to slide his hands up your body. He was intentional as he felt and familiarized himself with the curves and dips of your body. Your skin was tingling from his attention and buzzing in anticipation of where his curious hands would travel to next. You immediately got dizzy when his right hand landed over your neck and started to tighten a bit around your throat.

“Harder.” You begged breathily and he sighed in relief before squeezing harder against the sides as you kissed sloppily.

You felt him trying to nudge your legs apart with his knee so you parted them and as he pressed closer you whined when you felt his thigh nudged against your center just a bit. You needed more though, you were greedy for it and ground down against him and he flexed his quad, the bulge of his muscle created a surface of better friction for you and you moaned as you started to go faster. You immediately felt the turning up of his lips as he smirked, more than glad that you were so eager for it.

“Better?” He asked and you nodded, “Good. Get what you need, Y/N.” He hummed before he pressed his forehead to yours. Your pants and soft moans were heating up the minimal space between your faces but he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were. You were clinging to his shoulders for dear life as you humped at his thigh to your heart’s content and Harry would have it no other way.

Harry only wanted one thing and that was to get you off as many times as were physically possible. You deserved the world on a silver platter and he was determined to give you whatever you would let him tonight. How could anyone in their right mind neglect someone as gorgeous, smart, and extraordinary as you? He didn’t get it…how anyone could neglect your body or choose another’s…that’s why any guilt he felt about this immediately evaporated. His other hand was securely latched at your waist, keeping you steady as you used him to get off. He wanted you to do whatever you wanted, whatever you needed to feel good.

You were so determined! You wanted to come so badly and were doing everything in your power to cling to that little spark of pleasure that would shoot down your legs and make you shudder each time your clit rubbed against his thigh. The slick mess in your panties caused the glide to be smoother and so you started grinding with more intention until your jaw was dropping open as you moaned in celebration of your impending orgasm.

“I’m- oh, I’m coming!” You got out as you lost your rhythm and fell forward into his chest and Harry’s hands went to your hips. You continued grinding wildly to draw out the pleasure of your orgasm as much as possible. Harry was encouraging you with his words while his strong body kept you steady as your legs grew weary from the orgasm that had just taken you out. Your ragged breathing and the pulsing of your pussy were synced with the beating of your heart, you swore he could hear it as well and you tried to straighten up.

“S’alright, I’ve got you. Holding you nice and tight, just take some deep breaths, baby.” He said cooly as you tried to recover.

As the seconds passed your inhales finally became deeper and you were able to relax into Harry’s hold. He was patient, waiting for you to make a move to regain your strength.

“Jeez, I haven’t come like that since I was a teenager.” You confessed through a giggle and he chuckled.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” He asked and you glanced up at him.

“I’m not sure…I just hadn’t been so turned on that I was able to.” You said and he grinned.

“Are you saying I turn you on more than your husband?” He asked haughtily, a satisfied glint in his eyes.

“No, no, no…Don’t do that to me.” You responded through a nervous laugh and he chuckled.

“You’re right, that was low. Sorry.” He apologized and you smiled.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, he could still see the lust glazing over your gaze. “Can I return the favor though?” You asked him, more than ready to do your best for him.

“Can I make you come again first?” He asked and your eyes widened a bit.

“Again?” you questioned him and he nodded.

“Yes, again.” He said as he started walking you back deeper into the room, “And again, and again, and again until your poor, little pussy can’t take anymore.” He said before kissing you deeply. You moaned at his dirty words and gasped when the backs of your legs were met with the edge of bed. You fell back and he climbed over you, still kissing you fervently.

His big hands slid up your thighs, helping you part them around his body so that he could get even closer still and the moment you felt the seizable bulge in his pants pressing near your center you felt an impatience to feel and see what he had to offer you. Of course, his company was lovely, but you were absolutely touch starved and in dire need of a good fucking. Your hands slid back to his firm bottom and you pressed him deeper against you still. His grin broke the kiss and you opened your eyes to meet his playful gaze.

“Cheeky little thing.” He smiled and you only offered a shrug to excuse your handsiness. "Are you still okay with this?” He asked you and you bit your lip to suppress the grin that was threatening to take over your face.

“I don’t know but I want it. Need it.” You said and his gaze softened a bit.

“How long’s it been?” He asked you and you sighed.

“Since I’ve been fucked? Four months.” You said and he looked displeased.

“I mean since you’ve come.”

“Since I’ve come? Not by my own devices…?” you said and he chuckled, “I honestly don’t remember.” You confessed and now he just looked flat out offended at this.

“You’re lying…”

“Why would I lie about that?” You giggled.

“And even after that you haven’t cheated?” He asked with a chuckle and you shrugged.

“Well, I am now.” You said and he smiled.

“Well I’m definitely following through on what I said before. Gotta help you make up for lost time.” He smiled and you playful rolled your eyes at him. “Nuh-uh, none of that bratty stuff.” He said to you and you grinned.

“After everything I’ve been through?” You asked and he grinned.

“Pulling that card are you?”

“Of course.” You smiled and he bit down on his lip, “What?” You asked him.

“You’re just so fucking pretty.” He said, voice soft and sweet.

“Ummm, thanks.” You responded softly. You suddenly felt so small beneath him.

“Yeah, of course.” His smirk was giving you butterflies. His hand started trailing up your thigh, making its way to your center. When he finally reached your panties he did his best to contain his amusement at just how wet you were for him. “Shit.” He whispered lowly as his eyes met yours.

“I know…” you giggled, “M’so wet for you.” You whispered back and immediately wriggled a bit when you felt him slide the material to the side and soon the warmth of his fingers were making direct contact with your slit.

“Say it again.” Harry asked, his lips tickling against yours as he made his request.

“I’m so wet for you, Harry.” You said again, practically tingling in anticipation. He could feel your arousal seeping through as he ran his fingers down to where your entrance was. Harry almost moaned at how sopping wet you were, you’d made a proper mess for him and he didn’t even ask before kissing you hard and then sliding down to the ground.

“Harry, what’re you- Oh my god…” You gasped breathily when his thick tongue pushed into your entrance. Your eyes fluttered closed and your fingers buried into his hair as he started to bury his face against you even more, he was nuzzling against you, his nose bumping against your clit a few times before he licked up the entirety of your pussy and then dexterously used it to flick at your clit until your body started to turn to mush, “Oh fuck...that’s so fucking good…” you praised him and when he started to gently suck at you, your vision started to blur and your abs to tense. You would be mortified by how quickly you were building up to an orgasm if everything that he was doing wasn’t distracting you from having a singular thought apart from “Keep sucking”.

He moaned against you as your orgasm starting to take over you. It made you come harder to know that he was enjoying it as much as you were because even as you were withering, he never stopped. He did slow down enough to let you come down from it all but when he’d realized that you’d caught your breath you felt his fingers teasing at your entrance. You parted your legs further, non-verbally communicating to him that you wanted him to finger you. He kissed at your inner thigh and you smiled as you felt him sucking at you.

“Are you-”

“Yeah. S’just for you, for the memories.” He hummed before he sucked a bit more, ensuring that he left a dark hickey and you giggled, but soon your breath was hitching as he laved at your clit as he introduced his index finger first, feeling it out to see what you were able to handle.

It did feel nice, but you needed more. He wasn’t stingy when you asked for it, instead he rewarded you with his middle finger as well. His hands were so big, so this did make a difference. He was feeling around with his fingers, searching for your spot.

“Just a little bit deeper.” You said as you propped yourself up on your elbows to be able to see him.

“I’m not hurting you?” He asked. His tenderness was making your heart flutter.

“No, I’m alright. Now just curl your fingers into- Oh fuck… r-right there!” You encouraged through a bright smile and he grinned as he watched your head fall back onto the bed. He started to go a bit harder until your legs started to tense up, soon enough they were trembling as your toes curled and you started to come once again. You couldn’t believe how good you felt. Beautiful colors were bursting behind your closed eyelids as you rode the wave of pleasure you had been so fortunate to catch. You could practically hear the blood roaring in between your ears at how hard your heart was beating. And the longer he kept his fingers pumping inside of you the longer your orgasm lasted. You whimpered as your legs shook from yet another orgasm as he expertly prodded his fingers into your g-spot.

“Good girl…come for me.” Harry spurred you on.

You genuinely felt like you were going to explode because he had found the perfect pleasure point and it’s like you couldn’t be turned off. You felt so much pressure building inside of you, it was making your back arch and your legs shake and your moans to pour incessantly from your mouth, but you couldn’t ask him to stop. It felt too good to put an end to it yet. Fingering had always done wonders for you, but add to that a partner who’s intentional about it, and well your body will do things you never thought it capable of. Again, he’d give you small breaks to help you catch your breath and start up again. Your entire body felt like it was vibrating as he built you up again. Your hips thrusting to try meet his fingers, hoping to feel him deeper as he fucked you with them and used his mouth to lick and slurp at your clit until your body was going limp once again as you came. This time there were no colors, just white as your ears rang.

But then you gasped as he pushed himself to stand, his body loomed over yours and a he gave you mischievous grin before he started pounding his long, thick fingers inside harder and faster than before, never failing to miss the spot you showed him. And as his dark eyes met yours with a hungry gaze you felt completely lost. You could feel your poor little pussy throbbing as he started to work you up to the summit of pleasure again, but this time it felt even bigger than before. You had that pins and needles feeling tickling up your legs and to your core, but it felt like it was coming from the inside. Fighting to get out.

“Gonna come again. I can feel it.” He said lowly. The deep tones of his voice settled over you like the warmest hints of sunlight, making you feel toasty from the inside out.

“It feels…fuck, it feels like so much.” You whimpered.

“I know, baby. You’re gonna squirt for me, aren’t you?” He asked and you nodded furiously at the insane pressure threatening to just explode, “Come on then, give it to me. Show me how good it feels, Y/N.” He hummed with a subtle arrogance that you swore was the thing that did you in or maybe it was that he suddenly started to rub your clit with his thumb. Your head fell back into the mattress and your back arched for a few seconds before the fireworks took over. You couldn’t contain your moans and cries as you felt yourself quite literally exploding with your orgasm. He held one of your legs open with his free hand, taking in as your writhed in pleasure, gushing cum for him. He started to slow down, but you had so much more. It’s like a part of you that had been repressed was finally free.

“D-don’t stop! Not yet! I-I need more!” You begged breathily.

“How about I fuck the rest out of you?” He asked instead as his fingers slowed down and rubbed into that spot. You immediately nodded and he was quick to lean over you and attach your lips together.

You helped each other get undressed and then he fetched a condom from his wallet before texting his driver to dismiss him for the night. In the meantime you made yourself useful and grabbed two towels from the bathroom to put under you. Already you felt wobbly on your legs and Harry was more than pleased. You watched with a salivating mouth as he rolled the condom down his long and deliciously thick shaft. He stroked himself a few times and it made your walls flutter in excitement.

“Grab a pillow for me, please?” He asked you nodded and reached back, blindly feeling around until your fingers grazed the corner of one and pulled it down, “Thank you. Hips up for me.” He said softly and you did as he directed. You’d heard of this before, never really certain of whether this worked or not, but you guessed you were about to find out. He tucked it beneath you, asking a few times if it was comfortable for you until it was positioned just right.

And from one moment to the next the reality of this situation dawned on you and your excitement turned into hesitation. You were suddenly anxious about this…were you really about to cheat on Caleb? Your husband. With his boss? It just felt like the most surreal situation and when you finally got out of your head Harry was looking at you with a tenderness in his eyes.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He said and you swallowed thickly, “I’m sorry if I…caused a lapse in judgement or-” he was cut off as you tugged him down by the neck and kissed his lips with so much need. You didn’t want him to feel bad for this. This total stranger, basically, had shown you more attention and kindness than your own husband had in ages. And you talked yourself out of believing that this was for revenge on Cal. No, this was for you. You wanted it, you needed it desperately. Even more so as you felt the tip of his cock tickling at your labia as he hovered over your body. His hands were securely on your hips. But you parted your legs further, to let him rest against your entrance.

“You sure?” His question was mumbled against your mouth and you nodded.

“Yes. I’m sure.” You reassured him of your decision. “I’m just…nervous.” You confessed. “Like…I never thought I would be in this situation.” you said through a breathy giggle.

“Yeah, this is definitely a unique situation.” He agreed with a smile on his lips.

“I guess I just need you to know that…like I’m not a bad person.” She said and he shook his head.

“I don’t think that you are, Y/N.” He assured, “I think that you’re fun, smart, sweet, strong, and beautiful…or at least from what I’ve seen.” He said softly, “If anything I’m the bad person for…not giving a fuck that you’re married.” He chuckled and you did as well.

“If it helps I don’t think you’re a bad person either.” You assured him and he smiled before he kissed you again.

“Mmm…you might after I’m done with you. Gonna ruin you for my cock.” He smirked as he started to push inside.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he started to stretch out your entrance with the thick head. “Fuck you’re tight.” He hummed in delight as he added more pressure with his hips. He was just starting to wonder when the tight ring of muscles would give when they did, and the leaking and sensitive head of his cock was sucked into your delicious little pussy. You moaned together in relief as he surged forward, not able to wait for your to accommodate to his intrusion. He just needed to get in you, it was like he had lost all self-control; forcefully spreading your walls apart with his girth and then finally settling inside of you fully. You whimpered at how deep he was and he shifted his hips a bit, doing his best to find the spot that had you in puddles for him.

“Oh god…” you sighed in relief when his cock finally found your spot. Your thighs squeezed around his hips to push him in as deep as possible. You swore he was in your stomach and it hurt so good. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, Harry.” You implored and he wasted no time in giving in to your request.

His thrusts were hard and merciless. It almost felt like with each deep thrust he was knocking the air from your body. You felt drunk and dizzy on his cock as he pounded into your spot so hard that your vision started to blur. Before you even realized it your walls were spasming around his erection and your were writhing around with an unexpected orgasm.

When Harry felt you tighten up he grinned and moaned at the feeling of you coming around him so suddenly. He was mesmerized by the way your tits bounced with each powerful thrust. He was melting for your pretty and whiny sounds of approval and of the sound of his name being uttered and moaned from your lips with so much gratitude.

“Shit…” he swallowed thickly as his cock slipped out from how wet you were now. He quickly guided himself back inside of you, thrusting in the way you had liked and then started rubbing your clit as well. He chuckled as he felt your legs trembling around his hips as you came yet again. His own legs felt like they were about to give, so he slowed down and wrapped his arms around you before carrying you higher up the bed so that he could kneel on the mattress. “Get on your tummy for me.” He said and you did as you were asked, “Let’s get this under you…there you go.” He said as he placed the pillow back under you and you got the chills when you felt his fingers rubbing against your entrance the up to your bum, rubbing against your much tighter hole. Then you felt the weight of his cock back at your entrance and he slowly pushed inside. You squeezed the comforter in your fists as his cock somehow felt even bigger than it had before. You literally gasped and he moaned as he gave a few testing thrusts before some part of you just opened up and let him bottom out, that one did make you yelp. “Alright?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s just so fucking big.” You mumbled into the bedding and he grinned.

“Yeah it is, but you’re taking it all so well.” He assured you as he started to grind into you and your were paralyzed. "Fuck baby, take all of me." he grunted in time with his thrusts. He was right up against your favorite spot this way and it was making you feel loopy as it was stimulated over and over and over again. He wasn’t even going hard, he was just focusing all of his efforts into getting that spot and well, he seemed to be enjoying it too as he moaned and groaned above you. “Fuck you feel so good…you’re so fucking good.” He moaned with a satisfied smile.

You had never come vaginally as much as you had tonight and these orgasms were different than the clitoral ones you typically had. These orgasms felt bigger and like it was taking your whole body to achieve them. Your mind was blanking every single time…and this one was going to be the end of you, you were sure. You could feel yourself throbbing around his cock hard. He started to gyrate his hips and you literally gasped.

“There? Is that it?” He asked with a smirk you couldn’t see, but it was evident from his tone.

“Yes, right there! You’re going to make me come!” You warned and he hummed and put more of his weight over you. You welcomed it and your heart nearly beat out of your chest as one of his hands slid up your arms and to your hand. You let his fingers interlace with yours and squeezed as you got closer and closer to your orgasm. It was absolutely overwhelming as you cried out in ecstasy as your orgasm literally crawled up from your toes to the top of your head. Every part of you was hyperaware and feeling tingly as your mind floated freely in gratification. You were covered in goosebumps and your limbs felt like jell-o as he fucked you through it. You were reeling, completely pliant in his arms and as soon as you started to come down from that incredible orgasm he started to thrust into you nice and deep not letting your orgasm end. His thrusts were timed so perfectly, you were trembling and begging him for more, so he gave you more. He went harder and deeper as he shifted to straddle you and fuck you like that. You were basically weeping as he fucked two more orgasms out of you like this, it just felt so good you couldn’t even stop it. Your body was just responding to it and you were so out of sorts.

“One more like this and I’ll give you a break, baby. Just one more, can feel your little pussy squeezing me, throbbing around my big cock.” He said and you moaned, practically drooling on yourself and the bed by now.

It’s like you had no say over it, you just surrendered to the feelings and let yourself drown in them with no shame or remorse. That last orgasm was earth-shattering. You were vibrating uncontrollably as your ears rang and the tears slipped from your eyes even though they were screwed shut. You were just grunting in time with each hard thrust he delivered into you until your come was gushing and spurting out of you. You were gasping because the intensity of it all made you feel like your were free falling. It was soaking his cock as he moaned and then pressed inside as deep as he could before he came undone, filling the condom with his come but wishing he could’ve just unloaded in that tight, sweet pussy of yours. His hands pushed you deeper into the mattress, making it just a little bit harder to breathe and that somehow made it all the better. When he finished, he relaxed his body he just fell over you, covering you in his warmth. Time felt suspended as you both caught your breaths. You swore that mentally you weren’t all there now and wouldn’t be for a bit.

“Am I crushing you?” He whispered, this words tickling the shell of your ear and you smiled, eyes still closed because to you, it felt like the room was spinning.

“Yes, but in a good way.” You hummed bad tiredly.

“In a good way…” he repeated lazily through a playful smile.

“Mhmm.” you said and then your smile widened as his fingers found yours and interlaced with yours again. He shifted a bit and you rolled along with him so that you were on your sides now. His cock was still softening up and you were grateful that he wasn’t quick to just pull out and go. As much as you needed a fuck, you also needed the tenderness and affection of another person and he seemed to understand that. You tangled your legs with his and he squeezed your fingers before pulling your closer into his body.

“Was that alright?” He asked softly and you laughed a bit.

“I’m like…mentally on another planet…I feel like I’m floating… so yeah, I’d say that was alright.” You whispered and he laughed a bit.

“Good.” Is all he said.

When you had come down enough he proceeded to get back between your legs. His tongue and mouth were a lot more gentle this time around and again, he made you come several more times until your body was so sore that you just couldn’t give any more. You sucked him off eagerly and made him come once more before you both passed out. You woke up around 7am when his alarm went off, but instead of seizing the day he fucked you once more, bare, and it was your turn to mark him up. You were so exhausted that you flaked out on breakfast with your friends and didn’t wake up again until just shy of midday.

“Feel free to shower if you need to.”

“Yeah, I think I will.” Harry said lazily as he checked his phone.

“Mmmkay. I’m gonna order something in, do you want anything?” You asked him through a yawn.

“Will we have time?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a late check out.” You assured.

“Oh alright.” He smiled, “What’re you having?”

“Probably some eggs and pancakes and well coffee. I’m quite drained.” You said with a smile.

“I’ll have the same. Eggs over easy though.” He said as he stretched.

“Oh, same!” You smiled as you rolled over to reach the telephone and he hopped in the shower while you place the call.

Thankfully nothing was tense or awkward which you appreciated. Harry didn’t take long, so you were able to get showered as well and had literally just stepped out in your robe when Harry was placing the tray down on the little table in your room. You guys made conversation, he asked about your business and what kinds of events you liked to do, if you were interested in any other ventures. It was very, very normal. You were just waiting for the bubble to be burst by the metaphorical needle that was your reality…that being that you were a married woman who had just cheated on her husband, but it hadn’t come… and whether it did or not, this couldn’t happen again. Maybe when you were out of his presence and left alone with your thoughts, because you liked him way too much to feel anything bad at the moment. You thought it would happen when it came time for him to go, but that wasn’t how your goodbye went at all.

“Umm…before I go I just think we need to…debrief a bit.” He said and you smiled at him.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed easily.

“I mean…I like you, I think we’re very compatible and like…we just have a connection I think.” He said and you nodded, “And I mean…I can’t say I respect Caleb as a husband and a man after…hearing what he’s put you through, but I still respect him as my employee and obviously what he does outside of work isn’t really my business.” Harry spoke clearly and concisely, but he was looking for any signs of distress from you at this but you were just nodding.

“Yeah, I agree 100%. Like, thank you…for hearing me out and…helping me out, but obviously this is not something that can happen again. And well, I like you too, a lot.” You said and he smiled a bit, “I just don’t want you to walk away thinking that I just used you to get back at him, you know? And I mean…I don’t think us running into each other often will even be an issue. He doesn’t ever want me involved in any of his work stuff.” You said simply and he nodded.

“Right. Well, I did have a great time with you and ummm…I don’t regret it. I hope you don’t either.” He said more meekly and you shook your head.

“Nope, no regrets.” You assured him with a smile, “Thank you though, again for everything. You’re a really wonderful person, Harry.” You said and he smiled bashfully at your compliment. Moments later you were ensuring he had all of his things as you walked him to the door and you guys hugged briefly before he made his way out into the hallway and gave you one final wave before he was gone and disappearing amongst all of the strangers in New York City.

… PRESENT DAY …

As was expected, you hadn’t seen or even heard anything about Harry since then, just like before. But one thing you couldn’t help but notice was that now Caleb was around a lot more. Well, it took a few months after the whole thing with Harry, but it felt like things were going back to how they had been before. You had no idea what had happened between him and his mistress, but it couldn’t have been good because he was suddenly so present and even doting on you like when he was first trying to convince you to go out with him. And on this particular night you were in the middle of doing your skincare routine before bed when Cal came into the en-suite, just in from the office.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He hummed and kissed your cheek in passing.

“Hi, how was your day?” You asked as he undid his tie.

“Really fucking good.” He grinned, “So on Saturday we’re gonna have a celebratory dinner for a deal that we closed. It’s not everyone from work, but a few of the guys. S’nothing official, just those of us who did the grunt work to get this client. Do you have plans?” He asked as he moved on to his shirt now.

“Nope, no plans. Why?” You asked in confusion, as your eyes met through the mirror.

“Obviously I want you to join, sweetheart. If you want to.” He smiled in confirmation.

“Oh, sure!” You said quickly, “I’d love to.” You happily accepted his invitation.

“Excellent! It’s formal wear, we’re doing a fancy dinner.” He grinned, “So get yourself something nice in the next few days yeah?” He said.

“Oh, ok. Is there like a specific vibe I should go for?” You asked as you turned to him and he came over to you and grabbed your face gently.

“Hmm…” he hummed pensively, “I’d say something sexy, but really classy. S’gonna be the first time you meet my work friends. Wanna show you off, gloat a bit.” He said to you, voice low and sultry.

“Okay…do I have to wear a bra with it?” You asked and he chuckled before kissing your lips deeply. After a few moments he pulled back with a smirk as his thumbs ran over the apples of your cheeks lovingly.

“Mmmm, I’d prefer you ditch it for the night…but that’s just my opinion.” He grinned and you chuckled, “Probably pack a bag for overnight in case we get a little too wasted, yeah?” He asked and you nodded in confirmation, “Alright sweets, m’gonna hop in the shower.” He said before letting you go.

Needless to say, you were shocked. Hell must’ve been frozen over because Cal never even took you to the office holiday parties! So of course you accepted his invitation before he could take it back. Seeing Harry at this dinner had definitely crossed your mind almost instantly, but from what you knew, he didn’t really socialize with his colleagues outside of work so you got the possibility of seeing him again out of your head. Specially now that it seemed like Cal had made it past whatever midlife crisis he had been suffering. Maybe it was about time that you put the fantasies on the back burner and focused back on your husband. After all it seemed that he was extending an olive branch with this invitation. Making up for lost time and for his distancing from you. And well, in the interest of perhaps seeing Harry again in the future, you wanted to really wow his coworkers and make sure that you scored more invitations to work things.

*********

You had spent your lunch hours for the next few days scouring all the boutiques in your suburb for a dress that made you feel sexy but that wasn’t too slutty or suggestive. Always in the back of your mind asking yourself if Harry would like it, but then bringing yourself down from that hopeful cloud. You had found a dress that you loved and bought it, but despite that, you had walked into one more shop before heading back to your house.

You were looking through the racks when a beautiful magenta fabric caught your eyes and when you pulled it out of the bunch you immediately smiled at the dress it belonged to. It was a halter neck, which you would never typically go for, but you could already envision it on your body. There was a slit and the back had a little cutout that you imagined would serve to draw the gaze to the curve of your lower back and ultimately your bottom. The dress you had just purchased was a lot more understated, it flattered your shape and was definitely a less showy color, but you were practically drooling over this dress. It was gorgeous.

“It’s stunning isn’t it?” The clerk suddenly appeared beside you with a smile.

“Yeah…” you smiled at her.

“Want to try it on?” She asked with an enticing arch in her eyebrow.

“Absolutely.” You responded almost too quickly and she smiled and grabbed it for you and guided you over to the changing room. "Oh my god..." you sighed dreamily.

You were a vision in it. The color just livened you up and made you feel electric, powerful, and sensational. Your previous dress did make you look elegant and beautiful, but gave more of a demure and understated beauty vibe; it was the kind of dress you’d be expected to go for and typically did. But this other dress, it brought out an air of confidence in you, you could see the difference even in how you posed in it. Caleb did say he wanted to show you off…And well, even if you upstaged the evening, your husband had been having an affair for a year and while he seemed to be coming back to you, it couldn’t hurt to remind him of what he had and perhaps it would help to keep repairing the invisible, but tangible, distance that still existed between the two of you.

“I’ll definitely take it.” You said to the clerk with a smile.

After rushing a few streets down, you returned the other dress and then hurried home to your meeting. You’d keep the dress hidden in your closet until Saturday and surprise Cal with it as well.

**********

Cal had been quick to get ready, he didn’t stray too far from his day to day look, he just ditched his tie. You were working on your makeup when he told you that he’d be down in his office when you were ready to go. The dinner was at 7pm and you did have quite a drive according to Caleb, so you hurried to get your look together so that you could get on the road quickly. After spritzing on some setting spray you rushed into your closet and pulled the bag off of your new dress and smiled as soon as you saw it again. You quickly got undressed and slipped into it. You hurried back to the vanity to get a visual to tie the pieces of fabric for the halter top and you were struggling a bit.

“Sweetheart, are you almost-” Caleb’s voice stopped as he just gawked for a moment before he smiled, “Wow.” He said softly as your eyes met though the mirror.

“Yeah? Like it? Is this okay?” You asked timidly and he nodded.

“Yeah. You look great.” He smiled as he came up behind you, “Need some help?”

“Please.” You responded and he aided in getting the ties situated.

“There you are, my darling. You all packed?” He asked softly and you nodded and allowed him to peck your lips.

“Yeah, my bag’s on the bed.” you said and he smiled.

“Perfect, I’ll take it and go start the car, OK?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You assured and he went to do that as you wrapped up the final details of getting your shoes on, grabbing your purse, and finally getting on a bit of perfume and tucking a little travel version of it in your bag. You felt like a million bucks for the first time since Harry…and well, it was nice to feel good on your own, not because of another person so this felt so special. Like you were reclaiming yourself in a way. And so with that feeling of confidence making you glow you grabbed the bottle of wine you’d purchased as a gift and locked up the house before you carefully slipped into Cal’s Quattroporte, it was his baby and he’d take it out anytime he was feeling on top of the world. You hoped that you had something to do with it for now.

The GPS indicated that you guys were heading down towards the Hamptons, which was a bit over an hour drive. Cal was conversing with you about your work and clients, which was kind of odd. He never really cared much for your event planning business apart from giving you the start up money. But you soon realized that he was nervous because he was incessantly tapping at the steering wheel and clearly, he was talking with you to keep his mind off of whatever was making him feel this way. You wondered if it was the fact that this was going to be your first time meeting his work friends? You knew that he always tried to create boxes to compartmentalize his life and merging them could sometime be nerve-racking. Instead of letting it trip you up and darken all of the light and positive feelings your were having over this invitation, you decided to just focus on how good you felt.

“Sweetheart, we’re almost there.” Cal’s voice and his firm squeeze to your knee roused you from your slumber. You yawned and rolled your shoulders back.

“Sorry, didn’t realize I fell asleep.” You spoke a bit groggily and he smiled at you.

“God, did you guys rent out the biggest Airbnb?” You asked as you looked out the window. You were driving down the line of mansions by the coast.

“No. Didn’t spend a dime on this getaway thankfully.” He chuckled, “We’re going to the CEO’s vacation home.” He explained and you quickly turned to him.

“The CEO rents out his vacation home in the Hamptons to his employees?” You asked him incredulously, Harry seemed way too Type A for something like that.

“No, sweetheart. Of course not.” He scoffed through a laugh, “He’s the one throwing the party for us.” He explained and your stomach literally turned and you swore you were about to start sweating cold.

“So w-we’re sleeping at your boss’ house? You said it was work friends!” You said to him with panic in your eyes.

“Did I not mention that?” He asked and you shook your head, still in disbelief, “Oh, well either way, Harry’s from work and I mean, we’re not really friends or anything yet, but we’re friendly.” He explained, “And well, considering I just made him half a million dollars richer this week alone I’d say we’re about to get a lot more chummy.” He explained with a cocky grin.

“Cal, my tits are out! No one’s gonna take me seriously now…oh god.” You mumbled lowly and he chuckled.

“It’s alright, s’not like this is an official work event.” He assured you.

But suddenly you didn’t feel so hot in your dress. You didn’t want Harry to think that you wore this dress as soon as you heard it was at his place to impress him or to try and seduce him after you had both agreed that it was a one time thing. Yes, he was hot and you had played with the idea at first, but that’s all it was! An idea. A fantasy that you could keep playing at in your mind but had no intention of following through with. You didn’t seek each other out because you both knew that what had transpired between the two of you so many months ago had been a sort of lapse in judgement that you both just indulged in to do some justice to whatever had been in the air and sparking between you two that entire night. You weren’t a cheater like Cal and you weren’t interested in jeopardizing your marriage because for the last couple of months it felt like you were on the mend and you didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.

“All your coworkers are going to think I’m a whore.” You said with slight irritation and Cal scoffed.

“They will not. You should see some of the women they bring around…”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.” You mumbled lowly. “I just don’t want to make a bad impression or give anyone the wrong idea about…us. You know how people are already and-”

“You worry too much about what other people think, sweetheart. Who cares? If I cared what everyone said or thought I wouldn’t have you, would I?” He asked you with a small smile and well, the fact that his tenderness did nothing to your heart was a bad sign, “I mean, what’s the point of living life if you’re not going to have fun and take risks? You took a fucking risk, sweetheart! And I’d say it payed off.” He grinned at you and you shook your head before looking away to avoid him from seeing you smile at his compliment, “Hey, don’t turn away, look at me, sweets.” He insisted as he squeezed your knee again and you reluctantly turned back to him, “It’s going to be fine. They’re gonna love you.” He assured you and you just exhaled slowly and nodded, forcing a smile onto your face.

Finally, you were pulling up through a large iron gate and following the path down to the entrance of the home. There was a parking attendant that signaled for Cal to pull into one of the lines that had been drawn out for a parking space. Thankfully, there were already other cars there, so you wouldn’t be alone with him and Harry until more guests arrived. As soon as Cal parked the car someone was opening up your door to help you out, it was all very extravagant. You wondered if Harry always had this level of service or if it was just because he had guests tonight.

“Thank you.” You smiled as the man extended his hand and helped you down form the vehicle.

“Certainly. Do you have any bags you’d like us to put in the guest room?”

“Oh sure, they’re in the trunk.” You informed him and he smiled and hurried on to the back. You shot Cal a look and he looked just as surprised at this level of attention and service.

Cal did offer to help carry the bags, but the man insisted he would do it as he led them over to the entrance of the home. There, someone else was waiting and took over for the man that had helped at the car.

“Good evening, Mr. Hargrove.” The man greeted Caleb with a nice smile before slightly glancing to you, “And who-”

“Gerard, this is my lovely wife, Y/N.” He said with a bit of emphasis which was odd, specially when Gerard’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. It shouldn’t have been too much of a shock to her…Harry himself had said that he had no idea Caleb was married.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Hargrove.” Gerard smiled and well, you hadn't actually changed your surname, but you didn't have the heart to correct Gerard. He looked to be a sweet man a already had been thrown for a loop just knowing that you were Caleb's wife.

“Pleasure to meet you, just Y/N is fine though.” You assured with a friendly smile and he nodded once.

“Well, I can escort you to the room you’ll be staying in before guiding you to the dining area?”

“Please, that would be great. I’d like to freshen up a bit”, “That won’t be necessary, just tell me which room.” You and Caleb spoke at the same time and then chuckled.

“Umm, you can go head, honey. I just want to freshen up and use the bathroom before we start drinking. I’ll meet you over there.” You assured him.

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah, of course. Go celebrate with everyone.” You insisted and he smiled and grabbed your face gently before kissing your lips quickly.

“Thanks, sweetheart. See you in a bit.” He assured and you nodded.

“Alright, let me show you to your bedroom.” Gerard said and then he got a bit awkward when you were alone as he guided you down a hallway.

“Ummm Gerard?”

“Yes, miss?”

“You don’t have to be weird around me. I expected that Cal had been here before with another person. Or persons…” you explained as you kept walking.

“Right. Well I’m sorry for making you feel odd, I just had no idea Mr. Hargrove had been married recently.” He said and your smile faltered a bit.

“Umm…it’s been seven years actually.” You said as he stopped in front of a door and turned around quickly with a concerned look on his face. “Ummm, have you worked for Mr. Styles for long?” You asked and he nodded.

“About 15 years.” He stated.

“And Caleb has…stayed here with other women how many times?” You asked him.

“I don’t know that I should-”

“I’m not going to cause a scene, I assure you. I just…I need to figure out if there’s anything worth salvaging after the most recent affair. It’s the only one I found out about.” You explained and he looked sad for you.

“I wish I could tell you for certain, but since he started working for Mr. Styles I uh- I’m really not sure, but there’s been a few. I’m sorry.” He said and you sighed.

“Alright, well thanks anyway. Is this it?”

“Yes, this is the room.” He said as he opened it up and let you in. He came in behind you and set your bags down on the large bed. “You have your own bathroom through here. If you need anything ironed or steamed for tomorrow feel free to just leave it hung up on one of these hooks and we’ll take care of it while you’re at dinner.” He assured.

“Thank you so much, this is gorgeous.”

“Of course, Miss. Anything else?”

“Obviously you’re quite busy, how would I find the dining area after I’m done?” You asked and he quickly explained and you nodded, keeping his directions fresh in your mind before you scurried into the bathroom.

You closed the door behind you and then turned around to look at yourself in the mirror. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as all of the information that Gerard had shared with you started to sink in. You started to wonder how long ago the cheating had started…maybe it was before you had even been married. The only good thing that could come of this dinner was seeing Harry again. And well, you knew that he probably wouldn’t even speak to you too much, but at the very least you could just steal discreet glances of him and forget about the fact that your marriage was basically a farce. But that wasn't all Caleb's fault, after all you had also slept with someone else. With his fucking boss of all people. But god, you would do it again if he wanted to...

***********

Caleb was glad that you had headed off to check out the room and freshen up. He had been so in his head about so much that Gerard almost tipped you off about his affairs. He had always been a man who wanted the best, who wanted more…and well when he got you he was shocked that he had managed it. You were everything he had ever wanted in a partner and throw in the fact that you weren’t just after his money, well he snatched you up right away lest he lose you to someone else. It’s not that he wasn’t happy with you and everything you had together, but sometimes he just needed to switch it up, he had always been like that so he never advertised that he was married. And while usually his extramarital affairs were limited to single events for work, things started to change when he met Daniela. Daniela wasn’t as ambitious or entrepreneurial as you were. In fact, she was a midlevel employee and seemed happy in her position. But she was about your age, if not a year or two younger, and yes she was smart and gorgeous in her own way, but she never made an effort to stand out all that much, but she was so good at what she did that she naturally stood out.

He met Daniela two years ago when he was told that she was the most reliable statistical analytics person they had. So he started to go to her to double check all his numbers, a second pair of eyes could never hurt when it came to numbers! But he soon found it helpful to also run all of the data he had for presentations to clients and other board members by her. Daniela was sweet and soft spoken and a bit shy while Cal was a people person. So what started out as him just doing nice things to get on her good side so that she would keep helping him, soon turned into gestures designed to increase their interactions because he liked her. His acts of kindness became motivated by these deeper feelings that he himself couldn’t understand at first because she was the opposite of everything he ever really went for, but they were there. Daniela had started to like his attention and thoughtfulness and so they started to have lunch together often or to get coffee together and the attraction grew.

All of this wooing reached it’s culmination after a Thanksgiving party a coworker threw. Caleb offered to walk Dani to her car and they ended up kissing. And after that they continued to see each other outside of work and Cal started to fall for her. He had pulled her into his project with this new client, so that they could spend more time together but also to get her on Harry’s radar because she was absolutely brilliant. But he had fucked it up; upon realizing the depth of his feelings for Daniela he decided to start writing out some talking points to talk to you about his growing feelings for her and brainstorm how to bring up the topic of a divorce to you. But Dani had no idea he was married, so when she saw that notes on his phone she got angry and broke things off with him. And here he was, months later, still heart broken and longing for Daniela.

“You look beautiful.” Caleb spoke softly as he came up to the bar beside Daniela. She sighed as she recognized his voice.

“What do you want, Caleb?” She asked lowly.

“Just to talk and explain. I want to fix us-”

“There is no more us, Caleb. You’re married and I have a boyfriend now so get over it.” She stated firmly and he sighed.

“Please just…I’m going to end it with her-”

“Caleb, please not tonight.”

“Does that mean we can talk soon?” He asked hopefully and she sighed.

“I don’t know, Cal…I’m just processing all of the lies…I just don’t trust you right now.”

“OK, I understand. I’ll just…give you some space.” He said and she nodded, “I ummm…I want to warn you that I did bring her with me tonight. I stupidly wanted to make you jealous-”

“Jesus, Cal..." she sighed feeling the anxiety starting to churn up her stomach, "Just…keep it together because I don’t want anyone to be suspicious and think I’m a home wrecker.”

“No one even knows I’m married. I like to keep the personal things private. So everyone will be meeting her tonight and learning about...my marital status so-”

“Well I don’t want to meet her. I couldn’t, it's humiliating…” she said lowly and he nodded.

“OK. I won’t introduce you.” He said and she swallowed down that awful feeling of disgust in herself, “I’m really sorry, Dani. For everything.” He said quietly as the bartender came back with her two drinks.

“Thank you.” She smiled to the bar tender and hurried off without acknowledging his apology…again.

“Anything for you sir?” He asked and Caleb sighed.

“Ummm, not right now. Thank you.” He assured and turned around only to see Daniela smiling at the man she had brought with her tonight.

He looked about her age and was quite bulky and strong, very handsome. Caleb couldn’t help but feel insecure as she watched him being introduced to some of the others that approached her. This wasn’t a big group, just about 10 of them or so, but with the plus ones, the group was a bit larger and well, hopefully he could sit somewhere where he could keep an eye on her. He felt his heart lurching in defeat as her boyfriend tucked her hair behind her ear in a delicate motion, she had this piece from her outgrown bangs that really defied her new hair part. He’d done the same thing to her plenty of times before and he wished he could be the one to do it for her now.

Caleb had really tried to smooth things over with Daniela at the very least but she felt so betrayed. Understandably so, and she made it clear to him that she wasn’t ready to forgive him and that she intended to move on with someone else and it hurt that she seemed to be fairing well. Caleb had tried to move on too, to focus back on you and your marriage…hopefully being around you more would reignite the love he once had for you, but it wasn’t happening, he was too far gone.

He was running out of lifelines to salvage his chances with Dani. Earlier in the week, when Tamika (Harry’s assistant/intern) mentioned to him casually that she was excited to meet Daniela’s boyfriend at Harry’s dinner Cal felt his heart darken with anger. And in his anger he decide that he wanted to make Daniela jealous back, which is why he invited you, his wife to this dinner… all to make his mistress jealous. He knew that this was fucked up and unfair to you, but he was in love and he was desperate to get Daniela back however he could and she would be his again tonight. He had no idea how to proceed, but he was certain of one thing, whatever he did to get Dani back had to be done with courage, all the love in his heart, and most important of all, with discretion.

READ PART 2!

---TAG LIST---@sunshinemoonsposts @daphnesutton @gurugirl @sad-avocado @sunflovverharry @angelbabyyy99 @justlemmeadoreyou @permanentllyharry @jessitpwk @cherrysulewski @matildasatellite@keriberi @reveriehs @ottawaoutlander

Let me know if you have feedback or want to be added:)

1K notes · View notes

eddiesxangel · 20 days

Text

I Don’t Think We Are In 1986 Anymore? Part 2

Big thanks to @allthingsjoeq @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing for the prompts. The Stranger Prompts - directly from the Twilight Zone.

Sort of proof read, if you see mistakes no you didn’t… Sharing is caring. Reblog and comment 💙

You have to read part 1 for this to make any sense.

Cw: time travel, modern/Henderson reader, the aftermath of the upside down/ finding out who your father is and the reunion they never thought possible. Angst, fluff, smut 18+ content, fingering (f), oral (m) p in v sex, cream pie, MDNI

wc: 10k. oops

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…”

"What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!"

You watch and listen as your father has a mental breakdown in your open-concept kitchen. You just got off the phone with your uncle Steve, telling him to get to your place ASAP.

Your dad was stunned… and Eddie was stunned… What were the odds that Eddie would stumble into the house belonging to Dustin Henderson’s daughter?

Eddie could barely discern any similarities. You resembled the woman who came in after Dustin, and Eddie could only presume it was your mother. If he squinted, your eye shape was somewhat reminiscent of Dustin's, but even that was a stretch.

“How?! When?! Holy shit, man, you’re-you’re dead! You died in the upside down!” Your father was dumbstruck, as was your mother, because Eddie died in 1986. Everyone mourned and moved on with life.

“The upside down?” You looked to your mom to see if she knew what the two men were discussing. It seemed that she was also withholding something from you.

“I don’t know, man! That was only a few hours ago for me!” Eddie yelled.

“Holy shit,” your dad whispered.

“Wait. You think I’m dead? Like you guys just left me there? In that place?! With those demo-bats?” Eddie’s eyes were wide and, if you were being honest, he looked a little crazy.

“Well… I mean… so much shit was still happening!”

Your dad was interrupted by a frivolous knocking on the door.

You rush over to the door. Standing on the other side are your Uncle Steve and Aunt Robin, aka the woman from whom you got your nickname.

You grab both of them before they can even say hello and drag them by their shirt sleeves.

“Woah, Birdie, what’s going on!”

You didn’t need to speak because you were in the kitchen before they could continue.

You hear your aunt audibly gasp, and your uncle’s mouth hangs agape, stunned.

There he was, a dead man walking in your kitchen, clear as day.

“What the fuck”-“That’s not?”

“Uh, hey,” Eddie waves.

“Holly shit,” they both say in unison.

Before Eddie knew what was happening, Robin charged at him and wrapped him in a bear hug.

This was weird for Eddie. He hardly knew the woman—not really. He had only spoken to her for the first time a week ago… well, a week and thirty-eight years ago.

“Ouch!” -“Sorry!”

“What the actual fuck is going on” she pulled back, still gripping his shoulders.

“Hey, uh, Robin.”

Her long fingers trailed up his shoulders to grab him by the face, squishing his cheeks together, not believing the sight before her.

Despite the passing years, her youthful features still shone through. Her face was adorned with a sprinkle of freckles, her hair, still a beautiful shade of dirty blonde with some strands of silver, was now cut a little shorter, but it looked just as radiant as ever. She was unmistakably Robin, just a more mature and refined version of herself.

“Ohhhh-okay,” Eddie forced her hands off his cheeks.

“Okay, what is going on here?” Steve spoke.

Eddie's eyes lingered on his acquaintance, taking in the lines etched into his face like a map of time. Despite the signs of age, he still looked strikingly handsome, with broad shoulders and a sturdy frame that spoke of years of hard work. His hair, once a wild mop, was now tamed into a close-cropped salt-and-pepper buzz cut. Eddie couldn't help but admire how his friend had aged with dignity and grace, and he felt a twinge of envy at his own mortality.

“One minute, we're in the upside-down fighting off those… those creatures,” Eddie looks to your dad, “and the next…” Eddie waved his hands above his head before flinching from the pain of the bat bites. “I was here!”

“I don’t understand,” Robin said.

“You think I do?!” He looked at her.

“Woah, guys, let’s just calm down,” Steve tried to defuse the room.

“Calm down? I just learned everyone left me for dead.” Eddie’s voice hitched.

God, you had a lot of questions.

“Come on, man, we couldn’t go back without another one of us dying. You stopped breathing in my arms! I swore you had died. I-I-I,” Dustin stammered.

You had never seen your father so distraught.

“Fuck, come here, man” Eddie reached out to hug his friend.

It had been mere hours to Eddie, but for his friends, it had been years of mourning and grieving, the acceptance that Eddie Munson was gone from the world.

“What are you guys talking about?” You ask, breaking the moment.

“Not now, honey,” your dad spoke, wiping a stray tear.

“Yes, now!” You screamed. “What are you all talking about? Leaving him for dead? Fighting off creatures? Bats? I saw his wounds! A bat did not make that so. What. happened. in. 1986? And do not tell me an earthquake…”

After a long explanation, you still could not understand what the most important people in your life had been keeping from you for twenty-eight years.

“So that brings us to now…” Dustin looked at Eddie. “Tell us exactly what you remember.”

“I was with you,” he said, pointing to your dad. “And the bats got me; I passed out, I guess because I didn’t remember anything, and when I woke up, I was in the trailer park, but it wasn’t the trailer park anymore… I was here.”

“There must be an explanation… do you think a gate is open now?” Steve spoke.

“Not possible; that was closed years ago.”

“Wait, so what happened to Vecna?” Eddie asked.

“El dealt with him; he’s long gone.”

“Wait… Aunt Jane?” You clarified.

“Yes,” the group confirmed.

You still cannot believe what the fuck was going on? How everyone seemed so casual about the topic of supernatural occurrences happening in the eighties.

“I think I need to lie down…” you excuse yourself from the conversation.

This was too much, too overwhelming. How were you to believe all of this? The evidence was right in front of you… Eddie had time-travelled, and your family confirmed that.

“Birdie honey, I’m sorry; I never wanted you to learn about all the shit we went through.” Your father pulled you in for a hug before you got too far.

You needed a second to collect your thoughts, so you went to your living room to lay on your couch.

You replay the details of what just sprung on you. A man with supernatural powers wanted to take over the town of Hawkins, Indiana, and your aunt, who also has supernatural powers, defeated him. Your dad and his friends, your aunts and uncles, helped. Your super nerdy, uncool father helped save the world. And Eddie, their dead friend, was now alive; somehow time travelled unknowingly and is sitting in your kitchen…

You’re unsure how much time has passed, but you feel the couch dip by your feet.

“Hey,” a deep voice you’ve now recognized as Eddie filled the empty room.

“Hey,” you open your eyes and face him.

“I uh… I just wanted to thank you for everything. You’re being super cool about all of this, about not calling the police on me, calling Dustin- uh, your Dad-that’s so fucking weird to say- I’m glad it was your home I broke into.” He fiddled with the hem of the borrowed shirt you lent him.

“I wouldn’t say I’m being cool. Honestly, I’m freaking out, but you’re welcome.” You half-heartedly smile.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m just as freaked out about this whole mess as you are… in the same boat and all, I guess.”

You hum with acceptance.

When you finally came around and decided to get off the couch, Eddie had already returned to the group's elders, and you walked in on their conversation.

“Oh, god! Wayne?! Is he? Where?” Eddie couldn’t believe this was the first time he thought of his uncle’s whereabouts.

“I’m so sorry, Ed.” Dustin couldn’t look him in the eye as he spoke.

“He’s… what happened?” His voice shook.

“We would visit from time to time over the years; he found a wife, he never stopped talking about you, he loved you.” Robin smiled as tears welled.

“The uh… the smoking caught up to him. Lung cancer. He was diagnosed about ten years ago. He fought it for a long time but passed in 2019.” you hear your dad sigh. “…but even if he were still alive, Eddie, you’d sure give him a heart attack if he saw you,” Dustin chides

“No… yea... No, I guess he would be almost ninety-four now…” Eddie sniffles, trying to hide his glossy eyes.

Not even five hours into living in the future, and it sucked immensely; who knows if he would get to go back home to his time. you felt for him your heart yearned to hug him and tell him it was all going to be okay, but you just met the guy.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” Your dad touched his shoulder, and your mom looked at him sorrowfully. Like you, she had never met the man your dad idolized.

As a kid, you were told stories of the great Eddie the Banished, and you worshiped what your father told you about him. But now, seeing the real man in the flesh, wounded, scared, and confused, humanized him. You felt so sorry for him; you wanted to do all you could to help him.

“Ed, I think we should take you to a hospital,” Steve spoke, breaking the tension.

“How? I don’t exist. I can’t pay for anything.”

“We have insurance and money; we can pay for it,” Steve rebutted.

“What if someone recognized me?”

“What if we gave you a makeover?” You suggested.

“Absolutely not.”

“My daughter is right, Eddie; you stick out like a soar thumb.”

“What do I need to change?” He asks hesitantly.

“The hair,” you nod.

“No."

"Not like all of it, but, you know... shorter" You cocked your head, amazing his features.

He was very handsome, and you were attracted to him more than you would care to admit. You should not feel like this toward your dad's friend. Technically, he was thirty years your senior, but you were older than him in the real world.

Eventually, you will accept your supernatural time-travelling weird-ass family secret, but for now, you need to focus on Eddie healing and looking like he was from this century.

You take to your phone for inspiration. Tapping away on the touch screen, Eddie is memorized by the new technology before him.

“Can you uh- show me that stuff?” He points to your phone in your hands.

“Yeah, of course,” you blush; Eddie's intense gaze on you didn’t go unnoticed by your overbearing father.

“Woah woah woah, no—nope,” Dustin spoke as he wedged between you and the time-travelling man.

“Dad!” You scold.

“What are you even talking about, man?”

“I know you, Eddie,” your father gave him a stern look.

“I had no idea what you’re talking about?” he shook his head. But he was lying. He thought you were hot; there was no denying that. It was weird that you were Dustin’s offspring, but did that matter to Eddie? No. He has experienced much weirder these past few days.

“Let’s focus people.” Steve snapped. “Makeover—than a hospital.”

After some internet sleuthing, you and Eddie decided on a haircut you both agreed on.

“You trust me?” You raise your brows.

“No, but I don’t really have a choice.” He looked at your overprotective father, hovering, not leaving the two of you unsupervised.

“Dad, there is not enough room in the bathroom for all of us. Can you leave?” You sass.

“No funny business,” he points.

"No funny business? The girl has scissors to my head."

“Mooooooom,” you call for her to help.

This was ridiculous. You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices, and Eddie is injured; that’s probably the last thing on his mind… and he’s probably not even thinking about you like that. So what could possibly happen?

You turn to Eddie with a smile as your mom drags away your father.

As you work away chopping at his hair, rewinding, and re-watching the tutorial off TikTok, you are not paying attention to Eddie's reaction to cutting his hair. If you looked down, you would see a man in pure heaven, blissed out by your touch. To see Eddie's eyes close when your fingers run through his hair. Eddie hadn’t had someone touch his hair in years, not since he first started growing it out. Fully immersion making sure his hair is even, you also don’t notice that you’re standing between his legs and your tits are sat directly at Eddie’s eye level, bouncing around in your tank top, as your arms work above his head.

Eddie tried hard not to stare; that’s another reason why his eyes were closed, but here he was, basking in your touch while fighting with himself to keep his eyes from zeroing in on your chest. He felt overwhelmed by you in the best way possible, your delicate voice and gentle touch mixed with your sweet-smelling perfumes and hair products. It didn’t take much for Eddie to get wrapped up in you. You had been so kind to him; he was so scared this morning. He was scared of the pain of his injuries; he was alone and the fact that he was no longer in his proper time.

You made him feel comfortable and safe, but you also made him nervous because he is attracted to you. Once the fright wore off and the calm washed over him when you offered your shower and food, it was instant; how couldn’t he fall for your beauty?

“What about my face?” Eddie speaks, his eyes still baring into your chest.

“What about it?” As you step back, your eyes are drawn to the man beneath you. You can't help but admire the striking features that define his face. You trimmed his unruly, chocolate-brown hair, but it still falls in gentle waves that frame his face beautifully. The freckles that dot his cheeks and nose add a touch of playfulness to his otherwise serious expression. But it's his eyes. Those are what captivate you the most. Thick, dark lashes frame deep, earthy-toned irises that seem to hold a whole other world. You can't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him.

“Should I shave?” She cocks his head, a few wet tendrils fall on his forehead, and you can’t help but admire his beauty. His scratched face bore a five-o-clock shadow; the circles under his eyes only darkened as the hours passed. However, it only made his deep brown orbs that much more compelling.

“No,” you smile. “I like the scruff.”

You step back again to admire your work, and Eddie’s eyes awkwardly try to look everywhere but you.

“Okay, I think we are good,” you smile as you run your fingers through his curls again with a bit more holding mousse.

Eddie holds back a whimper when your fingers are no longer in contact with his scalp, but he swallows it and stands up off the chair to look in the mirror.

He smirks at the soft mullet look you’ve given him. It’s still a nod to the eighties but more modern. It’s long still, but he reluctantly doesn’t hate it.

“I don’t have anything to tip you with,” he awkwardly giggles.

“That’s okay. You can thank me later.”

“SHIT”

“What? What's wrong?” Eddie whipped his head around. He hated hospitals.

“It’s Andy.”

“As in Jason’s friend Andy? As in, Andy that tried killing me, Andy?”

“Yea, he’s a doctor now.”

“Fuck” Eddie whispered under his breath.

“Ok, new plan. You’re my nephew, and your name is Jeremy.” Dustin removed his glasses and put them on Eddie as an extra disguise.

“Jeremy?”

“Jeremy.”

“Dude no, that—“

“How can I help you, gentleman, this afternoon?” Andy. Dr. Andy pushed aside the curtain.

“He was out hiking and was attacked by a… a….” Dustin stumbled.

“Bobcat,” Eddie finished.

“A bobcat in Hawkins?” Dr. Andy raised a brow in question.

“I was up north. I patched it up, but I thought it should be looked at.” Eddie cleared his throat.

“OK, let’s take a look. Where is the injury.” He puts down his tablet and watches how Eddie lifts up his shirt, revealing the amateur job you’ve done.

“It’s also on my leg, but it’s uh, this is the worst of it.” he clears his throat, wincing as Andy peels back the medical tape.

He lets out a whistle as he examines Eddie’s torso.

“A bobcat you say?”

Eddie nods his head silently.

“Okay, it looks like it’s been cleaned pretty well. You did a good job, but I’ll have to suture some of the gashes that are still bleeding. Andy looks at Eddie and really looks at him this time.

“Do I? What did you say your name is?”

“Jeremy Potter, my nephew! On my wife’s side.” Dustin interrupted.

Eddie gave him a look to cool it. He was so jumpy it would be suspicious.

“Huh. Ok. Let’s get you all fixed.”

A half-hour later, Eddie and your dad stroll out of the examination room with some antiseptic creams and low-grade painkillers.

“So, uh, it’s getting late; should we grab dinner and go back to Birdie’s?” your dad says.

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.” Eddie can hear his stomach growl again.

After picking up the food, Eddie and your dad finally arrived at your place, almost five hours later. You had spent the entire time waiting at home, feeling anxious and restless. As you waited, you couldn't help but imagine Eddie being tended to by a cute nurse. You pictured her doting on him, taking care of him in ways you never could. The thought of him falling for her made your heart ache with jealousy. Despite your best efforts to push away these feelings, you couldn't help but imagine him walking away from you, leaving you behind.

You didn't understand why these feelings were happening. You’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, and the urge to protect and care for him was so strong. You were already starting to miss him and worry about him.

Your mom kept you company, as she felt it wasn’t good for either of you to be alone. The others had to leave, but your mom stayed, and you discussed more of what happened before you were conceived. She knew exactly how you felt, overwhelmed and crazy. It took a while for her to come to terms with what your father described to her all those years ago, but she loved him too much not to believe him, especially when she saw what Jane could do.

A sense of relief washed over you as your dad and Eddie returned from the hospital. They were okay; his injuries weren’t bad, and he could return to you.

“Could I stay with, uh, with you guys? Eddie asks your folks, and you set the table, and your stomach drops.

“Shit, man, we are renovating right now; we don’t have space.”

“You can stay here,” you quickly offered. Your whole guest room hadn’t been used in months.

“Are you sure? I don’t—you have already done so much for me.” He blushes.

“Please? I insist.”

You couldn’t sleep, and he wasn’t going out on the street.

“You raised a good one, Dusty Bun,” Eddie teased.

“Dusty Bun?” You giggle.

“Oh yes your dad had this imaginary girlfriend, Suzy, and—“

“She was real!” Your dad boomed back.

And the three of you laughed.

The house fell silent when your parents left. After saying your goodbyes, you and Eddie stood awkwardly by the door until you offered to show him the room in which he would be staying.

“Sorry if it’s a little feminine for your taste, but the mattress is really comfortable; it’s memory foam,” you smiled.

“Memory foam?” He questioned.

“You sink into it and feel like you’re on a cloud, trust me. Give it a go,” you gesture to the bed for him to sit on.

You watch as Eddie takes a few steps, and she’s his body to sit on the edge; when his bum hits the comforter, his eyes widen, and he falls back and lets out a moan.

“Holy shit, I’m never leaving” he splays himself over the mattress, and you can’t help but giggle.

“I mean-“

“It’s okay, Eddie, I understand. You can stay as long as you need to.”

Who knows how much time he will be here? How would you even begin to figure out how he gets back home? And can he even get back home? Would he have to go through the upside-down again? Or could he just appear back in the real Hawkins? So many unsolved answers were running through everyone’s minds.

Did Eddie even want to go back? Probably. That would be a bummer, you like him, and not only because he is your father’s good friend….

The longer you pondered, the more awkward the silence became.

“Hey, you want a drink?” you offer, not really thinking; you just need something to ease the tension.“Wait, are you old enough to have a drink?” you eye him.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I can take a drink.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“I’ll be twenty-two this….year? Well, uh, you know.”

You both walk back to your kitchen and grab the bottle of white wine from the fridge.

“This is all I have, I hope it’s okay?”

“I’ll take anything,” he smirks, and your stomach does a summersault.

You ignore the deep inner attraction and walk over to the cabinet where you keep your glassware.

“So, uh— you gonna call me Uncle Eddie?”

You turn to see that smirk still plastered on his face.

“Absolutely not,” you deadpan.

“Why not?”

Because that would mean I want to fuck my uncle…

“I’m older than you.” You uncork the bottle and pour two big glasses each.

“Not technically."

"Technically, you'd be old and wrinkly," you giggle.

"I would still be a badass, though."

"A badass?"

"Oh yeah, everyone is scared of me." He looked a bit sad.

Your dad did tell you how the town was scared of devil worship and shit but you never took it seriously.

“Not scary to me,” you smile.

“Oh yeah, you could handle all of this?”

“I’m a grown woman; you couldn’t handle me.” You pass him the wine glass.

“I’m technically older than you,” he reminds you again.

“You’re lucky you’re the legal drinking age.”

“Still legal.” His tone implies something more.

“I could run laps around you.”

“You think so?”

“I know sweetheart”

The name made your stomach flip, and you took a big sip of wine before you moved to sit on your sofa in the living room.

Eddie followed and sat on the other side facing you.

“So tell me more about the future.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Shit, everything.” He took a long sip and hummed at the flavour.

“What’s Ozzy doing?”

“Like Ozzy Osborn?”

“Yea.”

“He’s fine; he used to have a reality show," you giggled.

“About what?”

“Him and his family.”

“Really? And people like that?”

“Oh, yeah, it was huge. I never watched it, but it was pretty mainstream…. You like metal?”

“Like is an understatement. Had my own band and everything.”

“Oh yea dad mentioned that Uncle Jeff was in a band… coffin something?”

Eddie bloomed with pride that you knew of his band. His face turned flush but he could blame that on the alcohol.

“Corroded Coffin.”

“Yes that’s it!” You snapped your fingers. “You cover anything I would know?”

“Uh maybe? Metallica, Dio, Ozzy… obviously.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard some stuff from those bands. Uh, here, let me put in something. “ you smile and grab your phone.

Eddie watches in awe as your fingers click against the glowing rectangle in your hands.

“That thing can play music?”

You nod your head and smile.

“Anything it can’t do?”

“Not really” you shake your head.

You find an 80’a playlist, thinking it will make him feel at home and he was in awe.

“Can you show me more about that?” He points to your smartphone.

“I’m yea sure.” You scoot closer to him so he can see and he looks down at the glowing screen.

As you show him the different features, he’s enamoured with Spotify. He loves how you can have any music at your fingertips.

Google was also another thing he had way too much fun with, asking anything and everything he could think of. He googled Metallica and was shocked when they were nominated for a Grammy only a few years later.

Online shopping was also a whirlwind to explain. Amazon was a trip for him; he couldn't believe in one-day shipping for anything you could desire.

“You mentioned you liked fantasy stuff, what do you like?” You snuggled into him closer so you could see the phone in Eddie’s grip.

“Lord of the rings, D&D, Excalibur— "

"Oh my god!" you jump, and so does Eddie.

"What?!"

You don't answer but scurry to find your TV remote.

"Woah," Eddie mumbles as he sees the crisp picture on the flat screen, which lights up the dark room.

You hold down the mic button on the remote and speak into it. Sure, you could have typed it out, but showing Eddie futuristic things was fun.

"Lord of the Rings"

You turn and watch Eddie to see his eyes light up when the trilogy of movies appears on screen.

"No way!"

"There are also three movies of The Hobbit," you giggle.

It was like watching a kid on Christmas morning. The pure joy on Eddie's face said this was the best news he’d ever heard. And to his defence, this was the best thing that’d happened to him in about three weeks.

“Well, I know what I’m doing tomorrow. I need to be all in and clear-minded when I get to experience these.”

“We can make a day of it.” You smile, not even thinking about your job or any responsibilities. Sure, you worked from home, but you were not getting any work with Eddie in the house.

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yea.” You smile back.

The look in his eyes was too intense. You had to break eye contact and excuse yourself to get the bottle.

You don’t even ask Eddie if he wants more, but you empty the contents into his glass and then return to get the second bottle in the back of your fridge.

The conversation held its own as you explained to Eddie about Tesla, social media, legalization of weed in some states, LGBTQ+ rights, 9/11, Obama, Trump, and the pandemic. You didn't want to overwhelm him with too much at first, but you settled on important things.

“Is sex still the same in the future?” He asked casually. And you almost choke.

“Explain to me how it is in the eighties, and I’ll let you know,” you giggle. The alcohol was definitely taking effect.

“W-w-well I….shit” he didn’t think you’d bite.

“Come on, Eddie. We are both adults.” You slide your foot across the couch and nudge his leg playfully.

“Never mind, forget it.” He blushes.

“No, come on, what do you want to know?”

“Is porn still a thing?” He meekly asks, and you can’t help but burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I promise I’m not laughing at you; it’s just like the biggest industry on the internet.”

“Yea?”

“Oh yea. Anything you are into it’s there. Trust me.”

“Trust you? You’ve paid for porn? Sweetheart, I didn’t take you as that kinda girl,” He accuses.

“Hell no, I don’t pay for it.” You laugh.

“Then how do you know what’s out there?” He retorted.

“Because it’s free.” You take your last sip of wine for the night.

Eddie stares at you, mouth agape.

“I’m a single woman, and I have needs.” You defend.

Eddie was stunned. Did he just hear that you touch yourself to free porn on that tiny electric box in your hands? Yes, he did.

“Uh— uh, is there any chance I could brow that phone thing you got there?"

"Absolutely not!" you laughed.

"Why not?! I’m a curious man! I need to learn I have needs too."

"Good night, Eddie," you laugh as you get up off the couch.

“Birdie, come on, please!”

“Goodnight, Eddie.” You shake your head and leave Eddie alone to get ready for bed.

The next morning you were tired, to say the least. You’d gone to bed late and decided to call in sick for the rest of the week.

You woke up around 10:00 a.m. to find the guest room door ajar, and Eddie was still sound asleep. He probably needed a good night's sleep after everything he’d been through, so you made your way downstairs to make breakfast for the both of you.

As the smells wafted through the house, they made their way to the guest room and woke up Eddie instantly. He woke up with a jerk, having forgotten where he was for a split second, but he calmed down once he remembered you.

“He pulled on the same sweatpants and shirt you gave him yesterday and stumbled down to the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepy head,” you smiled over your shoulder.

Eddie wasn’t ready to see you in only a small tank top and tiny sleep shorts.

“M-morning” he stuttered as he took in the view of you.

“I’m making us some food; hope you like bacon and eggs”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“How about coffee?” You walk over to your specialty coffee bar. You loved making gourmet coffees with the syrups and milks.

“Black, please.” he walked over to see the different options.

“That’s so boring! Let me make you something special.”

He gave another funny look, but you insisted.

So you ignore his request, brew your cinnamon coffee pod, add dulce de leche-flavoured syrup and a splash of cream, and slide it over to him.

He looks at you suspiciously, sniffs it and gives a curious look.

“Oh my god, it’s delicious. Just taste it.”

“I’m not sure what freaky futuristic shit you put in this,” he teases.

You squint your eyes but then give a smirk of satisfaction as his eyes bulge as he takes the first sip.

“Shit, that’s good,” he mumbles before taking another sip.

“Told ya” you turn back to the food of the stove to start platting it.

It was fairly quiet as the both of you ate. Eddie was still scarfing down the food like he’d never eaten a home-cooked meal, which made you more curious about the events he’d been through.

“I was thinking we could go shopping today. Can we get you some clothes and maybe a phone?” You tease.

“A phone?” He perked up.

“Maybe, I’m not sure how long you’re staying, and if you wanted to keep in contact with everyone, it’s the easiest way.” You shrugged.

“O-o-okay. But then we can come back here and watch Lord of the Rings?"

"Of course." You smile

Your dad and Uncle Steve met you at the Starcourt Mall around noon. You never thought you would be shopping with these two and their dead friend, but here you were.

After a very long time in Target, and a fashion show, Eddie got a full wardrobe.

“Can we get Eddie a phone?” You ask as you hrough the familiar halls.

“Really? Do you think he needs one? We don’t know how long he’ll be here,

“We don’t even know if we can get him back home”

“I think I’d like one… if it isn’t too much money.” Eddie asked.

“Don’t worry about that Ed’s” your dad turns.

So you and Eddie walk over to the mobile booth and get him a basic smartphone so he can interact with everyone.

Eddie was still enamoured by the touch screen technology, especially in your car. You had to tell him off for messing with the music but he couldn’t help himself.

You let him know you’d help him with his playlist once you got home.

When you and Eddie get home, you teach him how to use it. After the painstaking lesson, he seems to eventually get used to the new technology. He seemed like a natural after an hour or so then the two of you settled down to watch the movie.

You had the whole set up with blankets, pillows, snacks, and drinks.

Turns out Eddie has a knack for new technology because that night, it didn’t take much for him to find porn. He was overwhelmed by the thousands of options. He clicked the first few that were featured and basically came without seconds of watching, but Eddie was determined and unbelievably horny. After the first time, he wasn’t satisfied, so he continued to look for videos. His curiosity took over with all of the categories, but he found himself going back to the ones where the girl resembled you.

As you’re laying in bed trying to fall asleep, you hear him. Did he not release how loud he was? How incredibly hot he sounded as his grunts travelled through your walls. You couldn’t get the image of Eddie touching himself out of your head, no matter how hard you tried to block him out. You couldn’t even get your headphones because they were in your purse downstairs, and you didn’t want to get up and alarm Eddie.

So you lay there on your phone, scrolling mindlessly until you see Eddie’s new contact pop up. You click on it instantly. It’s a voice note.

Do you dare? You know what he’s doing down the hallway. Even if it is muffled, it’s obvious. You can hear the moans of a girl getting fucked on the screen.

The little devil on your shoulder wins as you find yourself pressing play.

‘Uuuuuuuh fuck-yessssss, just like that! Unnnnnngh mmmmmmmm so hot, fuck-“

His voice was deep and gasping with need.

You didn’t even know you could record a voice note while watching a video, but who knows?

“Such a good girl. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm”

And it cuts off. You rewind it again to listen to him say goodgirl, and your stomach flip flops, and you can feel something burning in your core.

It’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone. You can’t help but reach for your vibrator hidden in your nightstand.

You replay the voice note and turn it on. You imagined Eddie’s body on yours, how he would touch your skin, kiss your collarbone, eat you out, praise you; God, his voice was so hot, you were quivering with pleasure. Before you knew it, you had been cumming within minutes.

The next morning, you, too, were oblivious to Eddie also hearing your needy breaths.

He had no idea that he was the reason behind them, but when he heard the toy's low humming and your moans, he had a slight hunch that you were also doing the same as him.

“Sleep well?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to see Eddie trying to figure out the coffee maker. He turns to see you in nothing but a large T-shirt, fuzzy socks, and bunny slippers, and he never thought he could feel more butterflies looking at someone. It’s fast, it’s strong, and it’s scaring Eddie. His attraction to you is nothing like he’s experienced before.

“Uh yeah— you?" you think back to how you fell asleep, blissed out.

“Yeah,” he smirks, also thinking back to how he made himself cum three times last night, a new personal best.

You think for a minute that you should tell him about the voice note, but you decide against it. It would only be an uncomfortable situation. So you leave it and pretend like nothing happened.

You drove both you and Eddie to Uncle Steve's house. It was a strange and surreal experience watching Steve and Eddie interact, as if no time had passed since they last saw each other. It was like they had picked up their friendship right where they left off.

As you and Eddie caught up with Steve, you learned about what happened after the incident. There was a funeral, which was attended by few people, but the ones who mattered were there. You discovered that the kids took turns visiting the empty grave, cleaning up the graffiti left by the townspeople. Eventually, the graffiti stopped and people ceased to care. However, Hellfire and the rest of the gang still visited the grave and left flowers from time to time.

Steve got married, but the marriage didn't last long. You remembered how much you disliked her when they visited you as a kid. Steve never got over Nancy; he still loved her, even though she chose someone else. He hoped they would find their way back to each other someday, but she had moved overseas for investigative journalism.

Eddie wasn't surprised to hear that Uncle Mike and Aunt Jane got married. Although he had never met her, he remembered how fondly Mike had spoken about her. Mike loved her with all his heart.

You also learned that Will, the other boy Eddie never met, became a big animator working in LA. Steve shared that Lucas was the basketball coach at Hawkins High, and Erica had become a CEO.

Eddie asked about Max, and Steve replied that she was okay now. It took a while, but after Vecna had gotten to her, she was in a coma for months. Her vision never came back, and it took a long time for her to recover. Steve half-heartedly smiled. Eddie cringed and asked if Vecna had any more victims, and Steve replied that Carver hadn't made it. There was a huge earthquake that came from the Upside Down that killed about ten people they didn't know. Talking about it was clearly bothering Steve, but Eddie needed to know.

"Can you show us some pictures?" You asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, sure, kid." He smiles and leads you to where he kept the photo albums. After seeing all the memories Eddie missed out on, he felt a feeling he's never felt before.

"You okay?" You ask, noticing how quiet he was on the drive back.

"Yeah? No? I don’t know. I’m just— I missed out so much! I was supposed to be there with them! I'm starting to regret my choice of staying back… I. Shit that sounds awful, but I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be back there, in 1986, with my friends and my uncle! And now I'm stuck here and don't even know if I'll be able to go back home?!"

You don't know why you're hurt by Eddie's words, but you are. This wasn't about you, but the thought of Eddie not wanting to be here made you feel like he doesn't want to be with you.

"Don't say that, Eddie! What you did was brave; it was dignified! You chose to help save your friends. Sure, it was a little stupid because you died. Or didn't die? I don't know… but I always saw you as this hero my dad would talk about! You're honourable and kind and so selfless. And somehow, it led you to here…"

To me.

"Thanks, Sweetheart."

The nickname made your heart flutter. It's not the first time he called you that, but each time it doesn't go unnoticed.

"I'm scared," Eddie finally admits as you pull into the driveway.

"I know," you whisper.

You would be terrified if it were you in Eddie's position. You don't know how he's held it together this long. You weren't lying when you told him he was brave. He's the bravest person you've ever met."

Several weeks have passed, and you and Eddie have settled into a comfortable routine. You’re back at work, and Eddie has accepted that he will be stuck in the future. You and Eddie wouldn’t want to leave one another at the end of each day. You’d catch one another, with both of your lingering glances.

Your family had searched for anything and everything to research and look into anything that could be used as a portal to the upside-down or time travel. But the gate was permanently closed and had been for over thirty years, and there was no way they would risk opening it back up just of the possibility of Eddie getting attacked again, so maybe he could get back. The possibility of a gate on the other side was extremely slim because it had been sealed.

Eddie would spend hours sitting by the window, gazing at the vast expansion of houses before him. It was hard to believe that the once-desolate trailer park he called home was now this fancy. The years he had spent away from it had brought about so many changes that he struggled to come to terms with. He often found himself pining for a life that should have been, but he knew deep down that he had to accept the way things were now.

Despite feeling emotionally numb, he took solace in the fact that he was still here, breathing and healing. Each day brought with it small signs of progress, and he clung to them with all his might. He knew that he still had a long road ahead of him, but for now, he was content to sit by the window and watch the world go by, slowly but surely regaining his strength and sense of purpose. he was dead to the world but here he was, living, breathing... healing.

His physical wounds were healed; all that was left was a nasty scar. His mental wounds, however, were still ever-present in his mind. He would have night terrors; he couldn’t hide them. You would hear him screaming in the night, sometimes multiple times, if he was able to fall back asleep.

He tried talking about it with Dustin and the others, but nothing seemed to help. He was exhausted and mentally drained by the fact that nothing was the same; nothing was familiar. Sure, his friends were there for him, but they had changed; they weren’t the same people as he remembered them.

Eddie had another awful dream tonight if you could call it that. It was more of a memory; the exact events of that fatal night replayed as a loop inside his brain.

It always starts when he's with Dustin in the boarded-up trailer. Then, he watches as Dustin crawls through the gate. Eddie waits, watching him for a split second before running back out. He no longer wants to be a coward or a runner. He's surrounded by unearthly creatures, fighting for his life, but there are too many. He can't escape. All he feels is the pain, terror, and then nothing. It's all darkness, quiet, and loneliness. The worst part is the solitude, the feeling of being so alone. He longs for the day when he no longer feels that way.

Sometimes, when he's with you, he forgets that he's not supposed to be here. But as soon as he returns to this room, which is not his, it all comes crashing back down.

As the night wore on, Eddie's screams pierced through the stillness of the house. You had been lying awake for hours, listening to his panicked cries, feeling helpless and powerless to ease his distress. You can no longer take it; you can't listen to him suffer. You push the covers off, not caring that you’re only in a big T-shirt, and walk over to Eddie’s room and timidly knock on the door.

You slowly push it open as he never latches it fully shut. You can see him in the dim light of the moon fling the room and the light from the hallway. He’s a bit sweaty, trashing under the covers. He’s still sleeping, if that’s what you can call it. You can’t imagine the image playing in his mind as you slowly make your way over to wake him, to not get knocked out in the process. The room was dimly lit, and Eddie's ragged breathing was the only sound as he tried to calm himself down.

Eddie hadn't noticed you walked over to him, he was still sleeping. You sat beside him, gently stroking his hair, and whispered comforting words in his ear. Slowly but surely, his screams subsided, and his breathing became more regular.

“Eddie,” you gently whisper, brushing your hand across his bare back. His skin is sticky with sweat but he’s cold.

“Eddie,” you repeated, slowly circling your hand around his back in comfort.

He jerks awake with a gasp, and unexpectedly, he grabs you and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m so scared, Birdie.” You can feel him trembling in your arms as your body slowly relaxes under his touch.

“Shhhh. I’ve got you; I’m here.” You hold him as silent tears fall down his cheeks, staining your shirt. You rock him slowly to help calm him down. You lay beside him in silence, there for him, holding him.

“I don’t- can you-“ he takes a deep breath. You stay quiet to let him gather his thoughts.

“Can.... you stay with me tonight?”

Your heart melts as you hear the words trickle from his lips. He’s so delicate. He needs to be cared for, and you’re more than willing.

“Come.” You take his hand and lead him to your room. You pull him into your still-warm bed, snuggling under the covers together.

This isn't the closest youve been to Eddie. You've managed to fall asleep on his shoulder while watching the lord of the Rings movies a time or two. But this felt different. It was more intimate, and you weren't sure how to go about it.

You let Eddie take the lead as you lay beside him. You feel his fingers intertwine with yours under the duvet, and you squeeze his hand before opening up your arms so you can hold him. He lays his head on your chest. The tears have subsided for now, and you kiss the top of his head without thinking. You let your lips linger on his head before he looked up at you. His pleading eyes long for any source of comfort, especially from you.

You have been there for him, even when you should have called the cops after he broke into your house. But you were selfless; you let him find shelter, a shower, clean clothes, and food, all before you knew who he was. He was so frightened, but you showed him compassion. He started falling for you then, even if he didn't really see it a month ago; he sees it now.

You're so kind and fun; you get him to the fullest degree, even if you're not from the same time. Maybe Eddie has Dustin to thank, but he is falling for you. At this moment, in another time of need, you're with him in the middle of the night, comforting him even if you have work tomorrow. Eddie sees that didn't matter to you. You're here for him. So can he really blame himself when he tilts his head further to see more comfort from you in a gentle kiss? No, he can't. He's been longing for this, pining and itching to feel his lips on yours.

It takes you by surprise; his lips are so soft and delicate. It's been so long since you've kissed someone you've developed feelings for.

Eddie is desperate for more. He wants this so badly; he moans as he feels you start to kiss him back, but that snaps you out of it.

“We shouldn’t. This is wrong; you’re not in the right headspace.” You pull back, looking into his pleading eyes.

“Please, I want to forget. I don't know how else to forget," he begs you. He needs this to not be remembered, even if it is temporary. Eddie's lips hover centimetres from yours. His hot breath fans over your skin as you try to think of what to do.

You want this, he wants this, so what is stopping you?

"Birdie, if you don't want to, I'll go back to my room; I can move in with Steve or Robin or someone. I'm sorry; I overstepped. I just-"

You cut him off with another kiss, but you're not overthinking it this time. You need him to feel how you're feeling, how everything is only right when you're with him.

Before Eddie came into your life, you felt like everything was average and unremarkable. But since he's entered your world, he's brought a sense of excitement and adventure that you never knew existed. Even though his presence can be chaotic sometimes, you find yourself drawn to him and the thrill he brings. You feel like he's exactly what you've been missing and never want to return to your old, mundane life.

"I need this too, Eddie," you mumble into his lips, and Eddie sighs; his heart skips a beat.

You feel his weight shift as Eddie leans into the kiss. He leans you back into your pillows, taking the lead. You feel how his hands trace up your arms so he can cup your face.

He wants to feel you, breathe you, and be with you. No one has ever shown Eddie so much selflessness as you have. You deserve the world in Eddie’s eyes, and he wants to let you know how grateful he is to have you.

But he also wanted to forget it all—all the terrible things he’d witnessed and gone through. He just wanted it to go away for a while. So, for now, while he’s with you, his anxieties and fears are slowly being plucked away with each moan, gasp, and timid graze.

Eddie can feel your heat through the thin pyjama pants adorning his waist. You’re only in a shirt and your panties, but Eddie needs to see more of you.

“Can I take this off?” He mumbles in between desperate kisses as his fingers grip the hem of your sleep shirt.

You don’t let him ask again before you tug it over your head. You didn’t think his doe eyes could get any bigger, but here he was, proving you wrong, and it only made him look more endearing.

You reach out to Eddie as he sits there like a statue, staring at you. You take his hand, bring it up to your chest, and place his large hand on your breast.

“Hollyshit,” he whispered, realizing he was touching his best friend’s daughter. But that thought quickly passed as you leaned up in to kiss him; it's sloppy, it’s desperate, it’s wet, it’s so hot Eddie thinks he might just bust in his pants here and now when you ground your hips into his already painfully hardened cock.

You can’t help but moan when your pussy brushes up against him. You can feel how turned on he is, and it only makes you want him more.

“More,” you moan as Eddie’s hip grinds into yours.

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers find the twists of your underwear, and he lets his fingers slip down to your slit. You widen your legs so you can feel it all. His long fingers trace up and down your slit, collecting your slick before he impressively finds your clit on the first go.

His lips travel down lower so they can latch on your neck.

“Oh, Eddie,” you breathe as the combination of his fingers and lips sends a shockwave of pleasure through your body. His mouth leaves a mark on your delicate skin.

“Good girl, say my name.”

Another wave of pleasure travels through you these words.

“Eddie,” you moan. You don’t even recognize your own voice. It’s so desperate and needy. If you weren’t so desperate, you’d be embarrassed.

“Fuck, that’s so hot” he slips a single digit up into you to test the waters. “Baby, you’re soaked. All for me?” He groans with need.

“Yes, Eddie, I want you so bad; I need you so bad,” You squirm under his touch. He pumps his thick, long finger in and out before adding another one.

His head travels lower, and his mouth latches onto your perked nipple. His warm, wet mouth feels so nice, but that quickly is gone as he nips at your bud, and you let out an unexpected yelp.

“Fucking love your noises” Eddie moved onto your other nipple doing the same thing, only this time you’re prepared, and you arched up into his touch. His fingers are still working on you, and you’re so close.

“Don’t stop” You’re so close, and he knows it; he can feel your pussy clamping down on him with each pump of his hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pleasing you has been the only thing that has made him feel this good in a while.

All his worries and anxieties were by the wayside. His only purpose was to please you, to touch you, to please you.

You could feel it coming; you were so close only a few more seconds, and you would be flooded with ecstasy.

A roar of Eddie’s name rips from your lungs as you soak his fingers. Eddie never thought he would be so lucky to experience this with you, but here he was, watching as your body shook with pleasure all before of him.

“Fuuuuuck, you did so well for me, baby.” You don’t even notice when he sticks his fingers in his mouth to taste you. You’re too blissed out.

You didn’t think your pussy would need anything more, but hearing his praises only makes you quiver with need. You need his cock; you need to make him feel good. This was about him forgetting; this was about the both of you making one another feel good. You needed to take care of him.

Once you caught your breath, you shuffled so he was under you.

Eddie watched as you discarded your soaked panties and were fully naked for him. Kneeling at his waist, drooling over what was under his tented pants.

“Can I?“ you bat your lashes innocently as you reach for the waistband of his pants.

“Fuck, you have to ask, sweetheart; any time you want to, just do it.”

You giggle at his eagerness, but it’s cut off when you see just how pretty his cock is.

The head is so pink; it’s just screaming at you to put it in your mouth.

Your mouth waters as he grips his cock in his hand, guiding it to your mouth.

You stick out your wet tongue and the moonlight reflects off of it, it’s that wet.

Eddie can’t help but tap it a few times before you take his tip fully.

Eddie’s messy curls fall back as he lets his head hang, you looked up through your lashes to see his exposed neck and it only made you want to mark him as yours.

Your attention shifts when you feel his large hand run along your scalp, gently tugging at your roots. Your eyes roll back as his grip tightens, and you sink deeper.

His hard cock feels heavy in your mouth. His small whimpers make your pussy drip as you bob your head up and down his shaft. His taste and smell are overwhelming. All you want is to please him. To help him forget. Selfishly, you only want him to focus on you, and it’s working.

Eddie can’t believe he’s in your room, in your bed, watching you naked as you give him the best head of his life. He’s forgotten everything; he only knows you and how you’re making him feel. He’s feeling good. It's the first time in weeks he feels good, amazing even.

“Such a good girl, Birdie.” He tried so hard to not thrust his hips up into your mouth, but it’s so hard when he feels you take all the way.

You nuzzle your face into the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. It’s soft and smells of him; it’s overwhelmingly Eddie. You drool out of the sides of your mouth as you finally come back up for air. Replacing your mouth with your hand. Jacking him off as Eddie takes your mouth in his own once again.

“Need to be inside of you.” he pulls you up so you're straddling his lap.

You adjust quickly so you can sink slowly on his cock. I'm not even thinking about a condom; you’re on birth control anyway. You need him. He needs you. Simple.

You hold his shoulders for balance as you ease your way on his thick long cock. It burns slightly as he stretches you out, but you need it. You want it.

“Fuck you’re so big, Eddie” your head falls back as you sink to the bottom.

Eddie watches in awe as your body envelopes itself around him. You’re so tight and warm around him that he can’t help but grip your hips to help guide you up and down his cock.

Slowly you start to rise and fall on his cock. Both your mouths hang open as the pleasure courses through your veins. You slowly build up your place until you’re bouncing on his cock.

“Got, you’re so fucking hot,” Eddie pants.

He can’t help but take your breast in his mouth again. This had to be the hottest experience of his life. An ‘older’ girl from the future wanting him just as much as he wanted her? Fuck maybe this was heaven?

“Does that feel good, baby?” you coo. All you want is for him to feel as good as you do.

“Shit, yes, your pussy is so tight, fuck me. You’re so sexy.”

“You’re so big,” you moan.

You silence him with another kiss. You feel his tongue in your mouth immediately. He’s so skilled it makes you think how he can use it elsewhere….

“I’m so close, Birdie. Are you close?” He pulls back.

“Mmmmmmmmmm” you nod your head yes.

You need more, but your legs are burning and about to give out. Your pace falters, and Eddie can see you’re getting tired, so he steadies your hips and fucks himself up into you.

“Oh my god!!! Eddie!!!” You hold on to his shoulder to brace yourself. His cock hits your g spot with each powerful stroke; it feels so good you can’t focus on anything else but cuming all over him.

“That’s it, Birdie, come on my cock, good girl.”

“Holy shit,” you cry out.

“I’m going to come. Where do you want?”

“Inside!” The aftershock still taking over your senses.

You listen to Eddie’s grunts as he releases himself inside of you, it sounds so hot you didn’t think he could be any more attractive, but he was holding you down on his cock, not letting any of his cum leak out just yet.

You collapse down onto Eddie chest as your heavy breathes become synchronized.

“I think they nicknamed you the wrong woodland creature.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to call you Bunny stress of Birdie.”

Your brain is still foggy, and you’re unsure what he means.

“You’re like a bunny hopping all over my cock”

“Eddie!” You playfully slap his chest before you decide to go off of him.

“So, is sex really that much different from the eighties?” You giggle as you roll over to lie beside him.

“I think it might be better,” he says as he pulls you in for another hot kiss.

“You wanna go again?” You look at him, surprised.

“What? Can’t keep up with a younger man?”

“It’s four in the morning, Eddie. I have to work,” you moan. Your heart wants it, but your head says otherwise.

“Shit! I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. Tomorrow, I’ll show you what I can do; that first round was nothing.” You giggle.

After Eddie helped you get cleaned up, the room was silent for a bit.

"Thank you for being there for me, Bridie." Eddie takes your hand and gently squeezes it.

"No need to thank me, Eddie, I'll always be there for you."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson imagine #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #modern eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson fluff

385 notes · View notes

fuxuannie · 1 year

Note

This is honestly my first time requesting anything so I'm kinda nervous ngl lol.

May I request some HCs with Dan Heng, Jing Yuan and/or Blade with a GN Reader who dislikes physical touches? As in, if someone hugs them and grabs their arm they recoil as fast as they can because they're uncomfortable? And will only be okay with physical affection when it's needed or if it's their partner?

Thank you for possibly considering this request, and have a good day or night :)

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (4) x gender neutral reader

* prompt : request ♡

* authors note : this request is SO me-core, as someone who's horrible with physical touch, i think im the best candidate for this /j thank you for the req and i'm honored im your first! this is really messy, im sorry T.T

DAN HENG was one of the first people to notice your discomfort with physical touch when you joined the Astral Express. March 7th tried to cling onto you, but instinctively you moved out of her way. (and admittedly almost made her stumble and fall doing so.) Profusely apologizing for that little accident, but you never really let people hold onto you.

So when you two got together, Dan Heng was pleasantly surprised with how clingy you really were. Whenever he was working in the Archives, the arms wrapping his waist and leaning on his back couldn't have been anyone else, he didn't wanna ask or point it out, just incase you would've been embarrassed or awkward about it.

Not only giving, but receiving. You used to refuse any form of physical touch but now the way he holds you in his arms is a blessing. You fit so perfectly, like you were meant for him, and he's so glad that you are. He helped you learn to love touch, and you helped him realize he loved to touch.

"I'll be there after work, I promise." You remember JING YUAN saying, and you told yourself you could survive a few hours waiting for him. So there you waited patiently, sitting alone on one of the outdoor tables by the restaurant you planned the date on.

It was almost time for him to arrive, and you were just happy you'd be seeing him soon, but you hear a throat clear behind you. You put your left arm by the back of your seat and turn around. "Hello there!" The man asked, a friendly smile on his face but something felt odd about it. A sixth sense intuition that somehow he didn't have the best intentions.

"You seem to be alone," Oh no. "I can give you a much better time." You force a laugh, flicking your wrist while doing so. "It's quite alright, he'll be arriving any minute now." And that seems to annoy the man, his kindness running thin. "Listen, he's clearly not interested-"

His hand goes up to grab your arm on the chair, but in one swift movement, you stand up and pull away. "Please. Do not touch me so casually." You say sternly, sending a glare towards the stranger. But the familiar feeling of a hand around your waist calms you down, you look at your boyfriend, who looks back at you apologetically. The man had long left, realizing who he may or may not have pissed off.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have arrived sooner." He says with a tired sigh. "It's alright, I'm glad you're here."

BLADE doesn't exactly care nor mind, he wasn't much of a touchy person either. But he'll do the little things like locking arms or letting you hold onto him.

He will get annoyed and maybe even confront people when it comes to situations where he feels like he has to. His mere glare can send people off running, so you're greatful to have him around.

You did like it when he'd hug you or hold you. It was rare, but when he let himself rest for a few hours, you're his personal pillow for that time period.

Kafka would mess with him every once in a while, touching your arm and making you feel ever so slightly awkward and the glare Blade gives would scare any ordinary person. She loves the reaction she gets out of him, seeing you get pulled away and his hands on your waist posessively.

"CAELUS, wait-" March 7th and Dan Heng tried to stop him, but suddenly the trailblazer walks up to you and wraps his arms around your figure. The other two expected you two slap him in the face, or something to push him away, but the way you payed no notice to the way he holds onto you surprises them.

"Whaaat..??"

"Oh! Right, this is my partner. Hehe." He'd snicker, already seeing March 7th's absolutely baffled expression. "You have a PARTNER??? AND IT'S (name)?!"

You're known in the Station for being a researcher who despised being touched, most people knew how passive aggressive you'd get depending on how you were touched, and the intentions behind it. "I'm the one exception to that whole thingy they have, I'm just really special." Caelus sparkled in pride, before clearing your throat. "You're about to lose that privilege if you don't let me go and look at some papers."

Caelus apologizes, pulling away as you huff. "Thank you." And you return to your work.

"I still can't believe Caelus pulls.."

"What in the GALAXY is that supposed to mean?!"

#✹ ִֶָ ꐑꐑ entos paw prints #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #dan heng x reader #blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #caelus x reader #caelus hsr x reader

2K notes · View notes

bloatedandalone04 · 2 months

Text

In The Way I Need You | Part 10

Series Masterlist

➪in which you start your first shift at jess’ after leaving clay’s house in tears, and a confrontation at work leaves you feeling a lot worse than before.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Clay watched you flee his house with tears in your eyes, and he couldn’t even question you on it before you were gone, your body covered back up by your dress from last night instead of his shirt.

He had no idea what happened in the three minutes he left you alone for, but apparently it was a lot. Only a few seconds passed by the time he made it to the front door to go after you, but when he looked outside, you were long gone.

You said you weren’t feeling well and that you needed air, but he was still confused as to why you didn’t let him take care of you. If you weren’t feeling up for that second date, then he would’ve happily let you lay in his bed all day until you felt better, but you fled before he could even offer that to you.

What happened?

His brows furrowed as he closed the door loudly and made his way back up to his room, planning on calling you, or at least texting you, as soon as he located his phone.

But as soon as he entered his room, that plan slipped his mind as his gaze narrowed onto the framed picture that was placed on his still unmade bed. Clay felt his heart drop as he neared the photo, a sick feeling creeping up his throat as he realized who it was of.

Clay picked up the picture of him and Sam that was taken on their wedding day, and he couldn’t even recognize the version of himself in the photo. It felt like so long ago, and he knew he was a very different person now.

The guy in the picture was a lovesick fool who missed every single warning sign and red flag Sam gave out. His twenty two year old self felt like a stranger now since he had been forced to grow up so quickly after Joey was born and Sam left him.

He wanted to laugh, because the second things had gotten good with you, Sam fucked it up for him without actually being there.

Where did you even find this picture? He couldn’t remember where he had put it after tearing his room apart of anything that reminded him of her, so what were the odds that you had found it?

Clay looked around and noticed one of the drawers in his dresser was open a bit, and when he pulled it open and saw an unfolded blue shirt thrown in there, he knew that was where you discovered it.

This was the drawer Clay barely went into as it was full of all his old tees he used to wear when he was in his late teens and early twenties. They were his vintage and graphic shirts, and the ones he didn’t wear often, so he truly didn’t remember putting the picture in there since he hadn’t opened the drawer in quite a while.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he picked up the shirt and and looked down at the photo. No wonder you suddenly didn’t feel good, Clay was beginning to feel sick, too, as he stared down at the smiles on his and Sam’s faces.

Young, dumb and naive Clay. How stupid can you be?

With a groan, he tossed the shirt onto his bed before turning the frame over and practically ripping the back of it off. He pulled the photo from the glass and tossed the frame aside, too, and without a second thought, he ripped it into countless pieces.

He knew he wouldn’t have been able to do that before he met you, but now that he’d had a glimpse of what life looks like with you, he never wanted to go back. He hadn’t even thought about Sam at all since he left her that final voicemail, and he hated the fact that you must think that he still loves her.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The only part of her that he loves is the one he shares with her. The one that brought you and him together. His son; someone who he doesn’t even consider hers anymore.

Joey isn’t Sam’s. He never was. She brought him into the world, and then she abandoned him. No mother does that to their child.

As far as Clay was concerned, Joey was all his.

He throws the pieces of the picture into the garbage bin beside the dresser before looking around for his phone. He finds it on his nightstand next to his alarm clock with your sticky note on it, and his heart ached even more.

Without wasting a second, he picks his phone up and calls you. He sits down on his messy bed and tugs at his equally messy hair as it rings and rings, and he knows you probably won’t answer him for at least a few hours.

You were upset, and rightfully so.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he started when he was met with your voicemail, and he would’ve laughed at the fact that he is leaving someone else another pointless voicemail, but you weren’t just someone, and nothing was pointless when it came to you. “I didn’t realize I still had pictures with her around, and I hate that you found that. I swear, I would’ve never told you to grab some of my clothes if I remembered that it was in there. It wouldn’t even be in there anymore.”

He felt stupid calling you like this, but he needed you to know as soon as possible that he was over Sam and that she was no longer in the picture.

“Sam doesn’t mean anything to me. All she is…she’s just the person who helped bring my son into the world. That’s it,” he was rambling now and felt his chest tighten. It hurt a bit, and it felt like he was straining his heart, so he knew he needed to end the call and calm himself down. “I’m sorry. Please, call me back.”

He hung up after that and tossed his phone onto the bed before sitting down and running his hands through his hair.

How did he always manage to fuck things up? It was going great, you trusted him enough to let him pick you up after a night out, and your second date was a mere few minutes away from happening when you left in tears. Ones that he caused, more or less.

You were embarrassed as you turned off your phone, declining Clay’s second call to you since you left his house crying.

Sam was stunning, and now that you knew what she looked like, you could see the similarities her and Joey share.

You felt like an idiot and you were humiliated and feeling so insecure right now. A million doubts ran through your head and left it hurting, and your unrelenting tears definitely didn’t help.

Once you were home, you completely shut yourself off from everything and tried to focus on preparing for your first shift at Jess’ cafe. You wanted to check your phone and even wanted to see what Clay had said in his texts, but you also needed some time away from all that.

So you didn’t turn your phone on for the rest of the night, and by the time you entered Jess’ the next day, you still hadn’t powered it on. You didn’t have much time to use your phone as Jess would be starting your training any minute now, but you still didn’t want to completely cut Clay off. You decided that much after a whole day had passed.

You turn your phone on and click on his contact, but before you could read one of the four texts he sent you, Jess calls your name, and you have to put your phone away and begin training.

Around an hour passes before Jess allows you to continue your shift without her hovering over your shoulder. You had just taken your first order when your new coworker moved to get started on it. “Oh, you don’t have to do it for me,” you wave him off. “How am I supposed to learn if I don’t actually make the drinks?”

He just shakes his head with a grin, “The guy you took the order from is a regular,” he says. “Trust me; it’s best if I make his drink. If you mess it up even a little bit, he’ll ruin your whole day.”

“Okay,” you laugh and decide to let him take this one as you begin to wipe away the messy counter. “Good looking out.”

He smiled over at you as he made the drink and gave it to the guy you took the order from, his glare turning into a content smile as he sipped on it. “See? Told you,” he mumbled and you just shook your head, setting the cloth aside and beginning to change the coffee filters. “I’m Miles, by the way.”

You look over and see that he held his hand out to you. “Y/n,” you say and shake his hand. “I’m new, clearly.”

“I can see that,” he nodded and braced his elbows against the counter. “You new to the city, too?”

“Um, kind of,” you answer and wipe your hands on your brown apron. “I’ve been here for about a month now. Still getting used to all of it.”

Miles nods in understanding, giving you a boyish smile afterwards. He was cute, but not nearly cute enough to get your mind off Clay. Miles looked to be around your age, or maybe a bit older, and he had dark brown hair that covered his forehead, and from what you could tell, his eyes were a deep green. “Yeah, the city isn’t for everyone,”

You furrow your brows then laugh. “Oh, no, I’m not…I love it here so far,” you further explain. “It is a lot to take in, though.”

“Ah,” he nodded again and gestured to the customer on his side of the counter, politely pausing your conversation as he began taking the girl’s order.

You smile at him and turn to your side, and your breath gets caught in your throat when you meet Clay’s pretty blue eyes as he enters the shop. He briefly smiles but it falters as he nears the counter, guilt swimming in his gaze as he places his hands against the marble. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you whisper back and try to distract yourself by cleaning a nearby mug. An awkward silence fell over the two of you, and you hated every second of it. It was never awkward with Clay, and the sudden change had your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with him. “Um, do you want a coffee? Or a pastry?”

Clay sucked in a breath and shook his head. “No, I just,” he trailed off and you hesitantly met his eyes again. “I wanted to see you. Wish you luck, you know, on your first shift.”

He was dressed in what you think is his work attire - though it looked just as formal as his usual clothing - and your heart swelled a bit at the fact that he stopped by before work so he could talk to you, even though it was a bit out of the way from what you knew about where his job location is.

“Oh,” you say quietly and want nothing more than to throw your arms around him and kiss him right then and there. He was so sweet, you hated how tense things were between you right now. “That’s…nice, Clay. Thank you.”

Clay smiled at you but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You wondered if he felt as miserable as you did, then you remembered you hadn’t actually read his texts, so you really had no idea on how he was feeling right now. “Yeah,” he murmured and his eyes held so much longing, you felt your own burn a bit. It looked like he wanted to ask you something, but he didn’t and instead said, “I don’t know if you read my messages or listened to my voicemail, but…I’m sorry about yesterday. If I had known…”

You tear your eyes away from his and bite down on your lip. “Yeah, I um…haven’t gotten around to checking my phone,” you confess and grip onto the edge of the counter as you feel your face begin to heat up. Glancing to your right, you can see Miles eyeing the two of you with a poorly hidden look of judgment on his face, and you could only hope he didn’t bring this up later.

Clay stayed silent and nodded. “Oh,” he said quietly and it somehow made you feel even worse. “That’s okay. Just, whenever you get the chance…I miss you.”

You bite down harder until you were sure you were about to make your lip bleed before looking up at him. You wanted to say it back, but you were still hurt and a bit stubborn and your emotions were a mess right now. “Do you need me to watch Joey later?”

His face falls a bit and he steps away from the counter. “Yeah, if you’re able to. If not I can call my-”

“No, I can,” you say quickly and give him a tight smile. “I’ll see you later then.”

Clay swallows hard and nods, giving you a so clearly forced smile and making your heart ache even more. “See you later,” he rasped and turned around, leaving the shop without another glance at you.

As soon as he was gone, you blew out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and turned your back to the rest of the shop as you pulled out your phone. It was nearly dead as you didn’t bother plugging it in last night, and you were seriously regretting that now as you finally allowed yourself to read Clay’s messages.

8:09 AM

Clay Beresford: I’m so sorry you found that, I swear I didn’t know I still had pictures of her and I around.

8:43 AM

Clay Beresford: Sam is not in our lives anymore, I promise. I care about you so much, and so does Joey. Please call me back.

1:19 PM

Clay Beresford: I understand that you need time, and I’ll give you as much as you need. Just know that she means nothing to me anymore, and she hasn’t for a long time now.

9:21 PM

Clay Beresford: Joey missed you today, we both did. I know you have your first shift as Jess’ tomorrow, but are you still able to pick him up from school after? I’m sorry again, Y/n. I never wanted to hurt you.

He’d been trying to apologize and explain ever since you left.

You felt your eyes sting again, and you brought your phone up to your ear after clicking on the voicemail. “Everything okay?” Miles asks as he hands a freshly made drink to a girl. His voice sounded a bit humorous, and you furrowed your brows at it but couldn’t call him out on it before Clay’s frantic voice met your ear.

Your lip was hurting now as you had gone back to biting it while you listened to his voicemail, and by the time it was over, you were sure you could taste a hint of metal on your tongue. “Fuck,” you whispered as you typed out a text to him with shaky fingers.

Miles coughed loudly next to you, and you lifted your gaze and glared at him. “I take it you and that rich guy are close?” He laughed and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. “Or maybe you were but not anymore. He looked like a kicked puppy walking out of here, poor guy. But he’s not poor, right? He looks like he probably owns his own business or something.”

“Shut up,” you say before you could think it through. Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to quickly apologize, but Miles just scoffs.

“Oh, come on. A guy like that has no business coming into a place like this. I bet he could buy this whole street if he wanted to, then he’d own us,” Miles continued and you forget your task of texting Clay back in order to defend him from your coworkers petty assumptions.

“And what if he could? What if he did? What would you do about it, Miles?” You ask with annoyance lacing your tone. You weren’t sure why he felt the need to assume all this stuff about Clay when he had no idea what he was actually like.

“I’d quit,” Miles answered with a shrug. “I don’t need some rich prick holding anything above my head.”

You drop your phone onto the counter loudly and move towards him. “Shut the hell up,”

Miles laughs again and it only irritates you further. “Make me,” he muttered. “Christ, Y/n, you don’t believe guys like that actually care about people like us, do you?”

“People like us?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Poor people. We don’t need the rich pitying us when they have it all at their-”

“Shut up,” you nearly yell and then realize you were literally in the middle of your first shift and getting into a heated argument with your new coworker you only shared one brief conversation with before this. The patrons looked over at you with wide eyes and quiet laughs, and you felt embarrassed for the second time this week.

You couldn’t say anything else, and neither could Miles, as Jess came in from the back room and glared at the two of you. “What is going on?”

Miles just raised his hands and turned back to another customer. “You hired a spaz, Jess,”

You opened your mouth to give him a witty remark, but Jess reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Hey,” she said and pulled you with her into the storage room. “What’s going on? You were doing great when I left you, and now I find you yelling at my best worker?”

You let out a surprised laugh, “He’s your best?” Jess raises a brow at you and you sigh before looking down at the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, slightly frustrated as she crossed her arms. “Just tell me what happened. Why were you and Miles arguing?”

You huff and meet her gaze. “You know that boyfriend I told you about at that bar? Well, him and I got into a fight or…something, and he came into the shop today and apologized and I stupidly pushed him away and I guess Miles decided he should assume all these things about him and I couldn’t just stand there and take it,” you explained as plainly as you could, not wanting your boss to completely know what’s been going on in your personal life. “I know it’s a dumb reason, but I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry, Jess, I promise I’m not like that all the time. I just got mad.”

Jess pursed her lips and nodded, her hard gaze dropping a bit. “So I missed seeing just how cute your boyfriend supposedly is?” She teased, lightening the mood and making you huff out a quiet laugh.

“He’s very cute,” you repeated your words from a couple nights ago, and you were reminded of the way Clay came out and picked you up before taking you back to his house and taking care of you. “Things are messy right now, and I’m sorry I allowed it to be brought into my work life. What happened with Miles won’t happen again.”

You shifted the conversation back to a more serious one, and you could tell Jess appreciated it by the way she smiled and nodded at you. “You better not,” she said sternly. “Because I like you, Y/n, and I want you to have a real chance here. Okay?”

Nodding quickly, straighten yourself out. “Okay,”

“Good, now get back out there,”

A few hours later, you successfully made it through your first shift and were currently listening to Joey ramble on about what he did at school in the backseat of Rick’s car.

You were nearly back to Clay’s place when Joey shifted and tugged at his backpack from its place on the floor. You reach over and help him, and once he grabs a piece of paper from it, you let it gently drop back down as Joey leans against the seat again. “I made this today,” he said and held the paper out to you.

Taking it from him, you’re once again almost in tears as you look at the drawing. Joey was getting better at drawing and coloring with each passing day, and his attention to detail at his young age was extremely impressive. This drawing was of you, Clay and Joey, with you being in the middle this time and the Beresford boys on either side of you. “Wow,” you say quietly, meeting Rick’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “You’re quite the little artist, huh, babe?”

Rick gave you a knowing look as Joey said, “Daddy and I like it when you’re at our house. You make things better,”

And then you were on the verge of tears for the second time today.

@evilnight07 @espinathena-17

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #clayton beresford imagines #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford x reader #clayton beresford #awake 2007 #awake #clay beresford #in the way i need you #in the way i need you series

210 notes · View notes

yazthebookish · 12 days

Text

I feel like people miss the part where if Elain and Lucien ended up together, it's because they both made the choice to make it work.

Lucien currently is trying to find some common ground with Elain to get to know her but he obviously is being respectful of the fact that she chooses to keep a distance from him so he isn't around much.

Elain is making a choice to not pursue or explore the bond as of the current canon (which remember that canon is always subject to change based on future events).

These characters are making choices, no one is forcing their hand to do something against their will. Both Elain and Lucien did not have a choice in being mated to each other.

Did no one ever read a romance where a couple where so at odds with each other at the beginning but then they eventually fell for each other the more they spent time and got to know to one another? It's very common in historical romances and Elucien's bond is similar to the dynamic of a couple pushed into an arranged marriage/marriage of convenience with their bond—they're basically strangers and won't know how compatible they are until they spend more time or make the effort to know each other.

And to sum up what Mor said in ACOFAS: Elain and Lucien are not ready to deal with their bond right now until they figure out who they want to be and where they want to be.

SJM wouldn't add that to ACOFAS unless she wants the reader to know Elain and Lucien are not ready just yet to deal with it.

This is important for Elain and Lucien and it has to be explored through their own POVs. It's why I believe the reason they're kind of stagnant right now is because that development requires their POVs (to also see how they navigate through a mate's instincts and that can't be narrated from another character's POV).

I stand by the theory that the rejected mating bond story we would likely get is Helion and Lady of Autumn. The clues in ACOWAR are screaming that Helion and Lady of Autumn are mates. That story leaves more room for a more impactful and tragic rejected bond story to be told in the book—like, enough time passed to see the repercussions of a rejected bond and how Helion and Lady of Autumn dealt with it for centuries. We already got glimpses of it when Helion was telling Feyre and the IC his story with Lady of Autumn in ACOWAR.

To me a rejected bond isn't just a scene of two characters sitting together and Elain goes "I reject you" and Lucien is like "okay it was nice meeting you". That's not impactful or makes for a good story in my opinion. I think that trope could be used for secondary/minor characters who had time to deal with it, but not for the main couples especially since SJM promised a HEA for all the characters.

#elucien

152 notes · View notes

pseudosis · 20 days

Text

Baby daddy!ZUKO who’s just as nasty as you recalled him being. The unashamed debauchery, it’s some infectious disease that’s just ridden in the way he fucks. He’ll fold you up, bend you over, get that pretty mouth of yours to cough up his name in ways you never could bring your mind to wrap around.

Fighting against his aura, something that’s so wrapped up and put away to a stranger’s eye, yet still so weirdly magnetic proved to only allow room for that infection to overwhelm your sense of rationality. To put up a wall is to only prompt it to ruthlessly beat it down until it turned to a dust.

It’s the very thing that landed you up pregnant the first time, a daughter, that looks just fucking like him. You loved her as much as your heart could muster, and you loved him as well. Though that love came to a halfway point and diminished on his end as if that night wasn’t enough for his feelings to bubble up at the thought of you alone.

As a father, he’s everything a daughter could ask for. He spoils her until her teeth go all rotten, attends all of her school events to cheer her on, talks to her whenever things get down to complication. Perfect wasn’t a word good enough to cut his role as a parent.

But when he’s at the doorstep, dropping her off back to you after having a day out together, that aura comes back ghosting your thoughts once more. Putting her to bed as she had school tomorrow, you’re so caught up in being a mom, you become so aware about how much more taller he is than you for the first time in a long time.

How his scent of rather pronounced cologne just wafts and plays around in your nostrils, call it taunting if you will. How the callousness of his hands make for this erratic display of the work he puts in just about everyday to keep up with the body he personally sculpted.

“Here’s the child support money, I gave you a little extra in there in case the normal amount doesn’t cut it. If not, buy yourself something nice I guess.”

Traveling your gaze downward to meet the sight of a bulging envelope held out to you in those same hands you were just thinking on the details about, you take it. Feeling the pull of tiredness at last catching up with the weight of your eyelids, a thought hits you, recollecting the plans of driving off to the local pharmacy to pick up your migraine medication.

Surprisingly, he had the courtesy, buried away deep inside of his conscience, of offering you a drive there since you wanted to cut back on using up your own gas that helped push you off to work. His figure resting on the doorframe, almost looking down at you like he honestly didn’t want to spare his time to satisfy your needs. It irked you, that’s just apart of his personality that honestly pushes you away and reminds you to stay closed off to him.

No began on the tip of your tongue, though it ended up falling flat and lost amidst the sea of thoughts flowing mentally. Seeing the dead center of those amber eyes just fixated unmistakably upon your own caused for acceptance to finally cross your main line of thinking.

Acceptance had an odd way of taking its course, once yes rolled off your tongue for the first at the door, another wildly different kind of yes ended in you being folded upwards in the back of his car. Both of you, equally as naked as the other, the situation being his biceps curling begrudgingly into the soft flesh of your thighs while he lodged his dick back and forth to force apart those pretty lips.

Oh he’s so gross in the way he’s sliding his tongue down the opening of your ear, taking his hips and throwing them upwards to get that messy slick of yours to drip down the point of no return, down his balls and eventually falling to the car carpet. Feeling heat spread from the back of your head down to the tips of your toes as you took him abusing his way through your once closed up walls. The tip of his dick eating out the certain area in your guts that scratches an itch so satisfying, you threw your head back to scream to the top of the car.

Something in the way he just huffs and puffs out that heat through his nose and mouth that press wet spots flush on your skin. Or how he’s grinding out the scalding lust running in his body around in your pussy as a way to make you taste the high of his own unashamed passion. Cunt riding out the bouts of you squirting out some of that heat he’s implementing into you.

“‘M glad no one’s had this pussy since we split doll. You can’t bring yourself to think about any other dick huh?”

Hands snaking themselves through that head of hair of his, you brought your fingernails to dig in deep and tug firmly on any strands caught in your grasp. You felt his dick twitch in between your walls at the pleasing sting that coursed over his nerves. The biggest fuck you silently mustered. If that even counted, he seemingly liked it.

“I’ll take that as a yes...”

#wrote this WEEKS ago.#im kinda having mixed feelings about it but take it. <3 #avatar the last airbender #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #zuko smut #avatar zuko #zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #zuko imagine #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #adult zuko #{✩*ೃ.⋆𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 🎀}

149 notes · View notes

sugatrapp · 8 months

Text

「 S l e e p 」

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•

Pairings: Severus Snape x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: What he thought was a nightmare turned out to be something else entirely.

Warnings: NSFW / Sexual themes ~ Somnophilia (sexual arousal towards a sleeping/unconscious person) ~ Masturbation ~ Non-specified gender or genitalia of reader

AO3

Masterlist

Ko-Fi

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•

It irked him to no end to admit, but he worried for you.

Your living arrangements weren’t orthodox to say the least. Two professors who were mere strangers months ago living together was something he never would’ve imagined. Seeking out answers from Dumbledore when first finding said stranger unpacking and rearranging his things only infuriated him more. The old git had that glint in his eyes that never failed to make him question why he hadn’t found employment elsewhere. He was always thinking—plotting—up ways to make his job more difficult.

If he was forced to play one of the old man’s games, then it would be on his terms.

Whatever you chose to do with the spare bedroom was your business decorations wise. Any other areas were off limits. You didn’t touch his things and he wouldn’t bother yours. He liked peace and quiet when he got back from teaching so no unreasonable noises.

You were disappointed at the stifling strictness but agreed to his rules. It didn’t stop you from trying to be at least cordial with him. You made him breakfast in the mornings, greeted him when he got back from work, and even did some of his chores such as washing dishes if he was particularly busy with grading.

His external demeanor didn’t change, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the gestures. He reciprocated little by little—buying the snacks he noticed you bought frequently, picking up items you needed from the store, even grading your papers when he’d finished with his own. He wouldn’t say he was thrilled at the lack of privacy, but he came to tolerate your presence.

However this lack of privacy would become apparent when at an odd hour of the night, he heard you mumbling and groaning in your sleep. This had been happening for the past week. Each time, it sounded like you were having a nightmare, something all too familiar that kept him awake most nights. That feeling of waking up in a cold sweat with only yourself to reorient your tormented thoughts was a sharp one to swallow. Even if he felt for you in this regard, the mere thought of invading your space didn’t sit well with him.

He was set on ignoring you to attempt to find his own sleep, but a particularly woeful groan halted him in his tracks. Surely you wouldn’t mind him waking you from such an awful occurrence. After all, YOU had disturbed him first.

Ever so slowly he twisted the handle and eased the door open, peeking inside. His eyes widened and he placed a hand over his mouth to contain his gasp. You were lying on your stomach in the middle of the bed, asleep. While that was nothing to write home about, the fact that a pillow was nestled between your thighs being actively gyrated on was something else entirely.

The feeling of intruding intensified, but he couldn’t force himself to look away. You were mumbling something. He didn’t know what made him inch further into the room—morbid curiosity, the fabric of his pants straining, or even a little perversion—but he heard your next word loud and clear.

“Sevy…”

When you first gave him that nickname, he didn’t know how to react. He barely responded to it. But now, hearing you utter it in your sleep while acting out what was no doubt a dirty fantasy, it became all the more confusing and arousing. Him? Of all the people you could have, you fancied him?

“Sevyyyy…”

Before he could fully register what was happening, his hand descended beneath the waistband of his pants and briefs, wrapping around his now fully erect length. He fought the groans crawling up his throat as he began to stroke himself to the pace of your hips.

You ground harder into the pillow, whimpering his name and pleading for him to go faster. He did, closing his eyes and leaning against the doorframe. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him, letting him know just how many boundaries he was crossing, how much of a creep he was being but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Not while he was imagining that it was your hand instead of his fisting his angry red cock. An all too familiar feeling brewed inside him, ramping up the faster his hand stroked, the more he thought about you in between his legs, on top of him.

He groaned beneath a closed fist as he came over his trembling hand. There was no time to react as you jolted awake with a loud moan, thighs clamped against the pillow. You sat up rubbing your eyes, mumbling something along the lines of ‘not again’ before you went to get out of bed only to be halted in your tracks at his statuesque form at your door. A long moment of tense, embarrassed silence fell over you both.

Finally, you found the words.

“So…you heard…”

He nodded.

“And you’re seeing…”

You nodded.

Another awkward moment.

“W-Well I think there’s only one thing we can do.”

His brows reached for his hairline as you stripped off your top and ruined bottoms, naked before him.

“I have to see if you’re as good as in my dreams.”

Once his composure was regained, a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he began to unbutton his shirt beneath your watchful eye.

“Spread your legs.”

#sugatrapp #gender not specified #reader insert #harry potter #severus snape #severus snape x reader #snape x reader #kinktober #n s f w 🤫

336 notes · View notes

rebelshoard · 11 days

Text

Drew my main 4 boys as Golden Shrike deer! Deertails (get it? its like 'details' but-) under the cut!

Go check out @goldenshrikecomic!

Larsky is a Stonekrovn/Fielder mix and his halv is a Horned Lark! First (and only) born son of the jaws of an uncommonly aggressive mouth. Always scrawny, Larsky was pushed hard and trained harder by his father. His mother, Lily, passed during his childhood. Larsky ran away shortly after reaching adulthood, wandering further north and straight into a herd of Northerners, Catali's herd...

Catali is a melanistic Northerner with a Snowy Owl halv! His life having been predominately uneventful so far, Catali leapt at the feeling of excitement that came from the warning of a "dangerous stranger" wandering their territory. Young and bold, he snuck away to see if he could catch a glimpse of the stranger. The stranger found him first. But despite the warnings, the stranger, a young buck close to his age(as far as he could tell), wasn't hostile towards him. Just curious. The two became fast friends in secret and when the patriarch finally learned of this and made to properly banish the stranger, Catali chose to warn him, and without hesitation decided to flee with his new friend. And as they traveled they became more than friends. Somewhere along the way the pair heard of a great gathering of deer and decided to attend, it isn't as if they had anything better to do...

Yukahn is a Coastian with a Chimney Swift halv! Second born son to the reigning Queen of his herd, Yukahn struggled to find his place in the world. Anxious but proud, he tried for years to gain his mother's favor and love, but was never truly able. Eventually shunned from his herd, Yukahn was forced to strike out on his own. Remembering the Gathering that some of their newer herd members had mentioned, he set out east hoping to find it. And he was lucky enough to do so. It was refreshing to be among a crowd that didn't look down on him simply for not being his brother. He laughed, he ate, he sparred. He felt lighter than he had in years. While sparring he challenged an odd, lanky stag with what appeared to be fangs like a wolves'. Something clicked between them and they became mutually obsessed with beating the other and they sparred long after they lost their audience. All except for one at least, a handsome dark stag that seemed to be his new rival's mate. Once exhausted, Yukahn was surprised to receive an invitation to hang out with the pair. They rested and talked and they found they had quite a bit in common. And Yukahn was smitten with both of them. As the gathering came to an end, the three decided to travel together, quite content.

Amadan is a Fielder mix with a Bearded Vulture halv! I... don't have lore for him yet... I'll work on that later lol

#rebel draws #ocs #Larsky #Catali #Yukahn #Amadan #Golden Shrike #deer

122 notes · View notes

meadowscarlet · 2 years

Text

watercolor eyes ━━━ draco malfoy.

pairings: draco malfoy x fem!reader.

summary: it’s not your favorite thing to be stuck in a loveless marriage. much worse, being married to draco malfoy of all people, you despised and loathed him simultaneously, yet your heart craves for him while your mind opposes him and his entire persona. hopefully, you make clever decisions, or he’ll leave you with watercolor eyes.

warnings: arranged marriage, miscommunication, reader accuses draco of cheating, cursing and alcohol consumption.

author’s note: a reposted fic. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

When your future was planned and finalized, life began to lose its significance.

How could you not have anticipated something like this would happen at some point? Your parents had been preparing you for this since you were a little girl, yet the whole arrangement still felt enraging and terrible. Such a dreadful thing yet you can’t be disappointed, it was bound to happen but nevertheless, it just seemed presumptuous.

You were enamored with the concept of love as a child. You’d always admired how your father and mother act around each other—their eyes sparkling with blatant devotion, sweet honey utterances, and the naked love so evident in their faces—and you’d always wished for that.

Someone who loves you as much as you love them.

But, as they say, life may very well be cruel. When you realize that you will soon marry Draco Malfoy of all people, your little fairytale of love is shattered. You wanted to scream, complain, and say vile things that your mother would have chastised you for, but you couldn’t. This was your life, and you had to suffer and live it regardless of the injustice.

It was mangled and atrocious. An arranged marriage isn’t something you want to be a part of; two people who have no love for each other, not even a smidgeon of passion for each other, but who are forced to be together in a golden cage. Strangers in a relationship were like sand in the winter air, entirely at odds.

You needed to be away from all this for a while. When your family and the Malfoys ate lunch together, you were incredibly tired of the sparkling wine, the unrealistic politeness, and the tension of a stupid grin. It was uncomfortable for you, and even Draco appeared uneasy as he ate slowly and cautiously.

You were now in Hermione Granger's—actually, Weasley's—comfortable and pleasant home, which she shared with her husband Ron. She greeted you with a beaming smile and a compelling hug right away, and a part of you felt glad for the warmth she provided as she welcomed you into their home.

“How are you doing?” Hermione asked, taking a sip of the tea she had made for the two of you.

You hesitated, your hand clutching your skirt’s edge. “If that’s what you’re wondering about, I’m perfectly all right.”

When Hermione observed you, she knew you were lying. You and her had been best friends for your entire Hogwarts year, along with Ron and Harry, but you felt the closest to her and vice versa, so she knew you were deceiving by the look on her face, which was like a frown, and the way she squinted her eyes.

“You’re lying,” she remarked as she placed the tea on the table, her voice knowing.

“No, I’m not.”

Hermione sighed. “Y/N.”

“Fine,” you didn’t intend to be mean, but it just came out of nowhere, but thankfully Hermione didn’t seem disturbed; she’s probably accustomed to it. “I feel… conflicted.”

She frowned, her face deep in contemplation. “Does this have anything to do with your marriage to Malfoy?”

“Arranged marriage,” you corrected almost spitefully.

Hermione’s face had a pity look on it, which you didn’t like to see. She was well aware of your animosity for Draco; you’d rant about it all day in your dorms and even in the Great Hall, with Ron chiming in with a few supportive remarks. Even after the battle, you still despise the man you’re supposed to be entangled with.

It didn’t make any sense; Draco was the least suitable person for you to marry, and he wasn’t the sort of bloke you expected to be with. You were a pureblood Gryffindor, and it didn’t seem like a good match to be with someone as arrogant and conceited as Draco, who shamelessly flaunted his Slytherin pride in your years at Hogwarts, rubbing it in your face.

In comparison to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he didn’t harass or taunt you, but there were insults and sarcastic remarks about you, though they never went deep; you were resentful and petty, so you chose to detest him. When he’s at the back of the class, he’ll mostly tug at the ends of your braids, or he’ll mess with you in your free time and take up all of your time instead of doing what you want because of his irritating presence.

“I’m not justifying him, but don’t you think your hatred for him is a little insensitive?” With a shrug, Hermione continued, “He already apologized and even helped us in the war.”

Your eye twitched, possibly in irritation. “It makes no difference. I’m not interested in marrying him.”

“Can’t you just call it off? Perhaps if you told your parents, they’d understand.” Hermione suggested, her eyes lighting up.

“This is what they want for me, Hermione,” you stated grimly, your voice devoid of any hope. “And this is what I was conditioned to believe, that it’s for purebloods to have arranged marriages, but I’m confused…why Draco of all people?”

The door to Hermione’s house opened and footsteps emerged before she could say anything. Then someone—Ron—came into the room they were in. When he saw Hermione, he grinned broadly and looked relieved. Then when he saw you, he was taken aback but enthusiastically embraced you with a short hug.

Ron questioned, his freckles prominent on his face, “What are you doing here?” with a little grin. “Are you doing the therapy thing with Mione?”

Hermione appeared aloof, but her eyes shone with mirth. “I taught you the word therapy, and you use it every time Y/N visits here.”

You chuckled for the first time in a long time. “Maybe he’s right.”

Ron sat alongside Hermione in the couch across from you and laid his arm around her with a familiar knowing expression in his eye. “Malfoy?” he said, humor crossing his face.

You gave a tired sigh. “The one and only.”

You three conversed until it was past noon. You felt out of place and envious when you and your friends were conversing. You had yearned for the kind of love Ron and Hermione had. You’d watch Ron kiss Hermione’s cheeks or Hermione gently stroke Ron’s hands with a glimmer of longing in your eyes.

While you were passively observing, possibly in resentful longing, their eyes gleamed with genuine unconditional love, but you knew you could never be like that with Draco. You felt like you were outside a transparent glass, and Hermione and Ron were inside of it; you could see but not feel it. It’s so gruesome not to be bestowed with love. But you were ecstatic for them since they were happy with one other.

But what about you?

Maybe it was the occupants’ moods, or maybe it was just you, but the Malfoy manor felt cold and miserable. It finally occurred, the worst thing that could have happened was that you were already married to Draco. You were bound to one other not by love, but by iron chains, which encompassed you and forced you to be together.

Your love for each other was brittle, and you could see Draco was doing his best; he was impersonal, to be certain, but he attempted to communicate with you, albeit his tone was contrived and stiff. After your wedding kiss, he never touched you again; you remembered how frigid but soft his lips were on yours, but you despised the sensation of something fraudulent.

Like Hermione said, he changed, but your perception of him hasn’t altered at all. Draco, on the other hand, never mentioned what occurred at Hogwarts, about the taunts and insults, and neither did you. Now you were living in the Malfoy manor, a frigid place that didn’t seem friendly to you despite Narcissa’s warm greetings, and your room’s bed was cold, dismal, and exhausting.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Draco had said as you stood there, in your shared room, wary of the enormous single bed, hugging yourself since the chilly air was caressing your skin since you were only wearing a flimsy nightgown.

You didn’t say a word, not even a nod. You didn’t even look at Draco since the silence was so uncomfortable, enough that you went to bed and drew the covers over your body. You heard his sigh, which was most likely frustration, but you didn’t care as you closed your eyes and focused on oblivion.

And now you were in the bedroom, there in bed, reading with a tiny amount of light, half of your body covered by the comforter, and for the first time you felt peaceful, Draco wasn’t here, and strangely you felt comforted in the cold room’s isolation.

Most likely, you were brutalizing yourself. If you’re reading a romance novel and envisioning things occurring to yourself rather than fictional characters, you may have gone mad. However, as the familiar scent of Draco’s fragrance flooded your nose as you read about romanticism, the tranquility didn’t stay long.

Though you had uttered words—short and forceful—you did mostly ignore him in the months since you last spoke. Maybe you were being abrasive, because Draco was doing everything he could to make the marriage work, most likely to please his parents, but why couldn’t he just accept that he couldn’t make something like this work?

When you felt like the manor was suffocating you, you’d go out and see Hermione and Ron, or even Harry and Ginny. You’d stay in their homes since it was warm and welcoming, and it felt more like home than your own. You had wished for a household full of love and cheerful laughter more than anything else.

The words in your book were starting to lose their interpretation, and your thudding thoughts were distracting you. It’s just that you can’t help but feel betrayed by the injustice; you may consider yourself a lovesick, but you always wanted to experience that as a child, but life could be callous, and all you wanted was to love and be loved.

Like a frothing serpent, a sudden thought hissed through your mind. The idea of learning to love Draco popped up. You didn’t like the concept but you won’t deny you feel melancholy to him, on how his eyes always follow you whenever you attend pureblood events, on how he’d mutter if you’re alright, lingering his hand on your waist when you’re talking to other people, not quite touching.

You frowned and shook your head, attempting to focus on the words in the books and ignoring the yearning for something you shouldn’t even crave for.

Draco arrived at the manor quite late. His steps were a little unsteady, and his eyes were a little unhappy. He’d been out drinking with his friends Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, and the alcohol had apparently rushed into his system, causing him to become inebriated as he stumbled into their room.

Despite being slightly intoxicated, he entered the room discreetly, his gaze softening when he saw you. You were nearly buried in the bed, looking unusually troubled yet content as you read a book. You hadn’t noticed him yet, or perhaps you were ignoring him as you always were.

It bothers him or, more likely, his ego. He was well aware of your hatred for him until now, as evidenced by your pretty face, and perhaps he couldn’t blame you. He felt a pang of cynicism, though, because despite his apology for his actions during your Hogwarts years, you still didn’t like him. It was difficult to act as if he didn’t care about you and that he despised the whole thing as much as you did.

You eventually noticed him, and your enraptured eyes widened in surprise as you closed your book and clutched the duvet against you, as if trying to hide from him. Draco’s breath got caught in his throat as he realized how beautiful you were. Your face contorted into nothingness for a brief moment, almost delicately concerned. Draco was undecided as to whether he was disappointed or amused.

“Draco,” you finally acknowledge him, still unable to get out of bed. “…Where were you?” Your tone was disinterested, but at least you were talking to him.

He swayed slightly as he approached you, and he could see the apprehension in your eyes. “Hello, my wife,” he almost slurred, watching your face change with emotion. “Did you miss me?”

As Draco’s eyesight became fuzzy, you shook your head, your face unreadable. “Are you drunk?”

He chuckled as he proceeded to loosen his tie, completely oblivious to the fact that your eyes were drawn to the movement. “You seem concerned about my wellbeing.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Don’t be daft.”

Draco only chuckled as he proceeded to the couch, shaky feet almost tripping him up, as he grunted and fell on the couch, you hesitantly got out of bed and moved closer to him. Your feet were light, and your breathing was quiet, and Draco concentrated on that, his back straining from his couch position, and his eyes blinking furiously.

“You’re drunk,” you said almost monotonously as you tentatively approached him and stared down at him.

“Oh really? I didn’t notice,” Draco muttered, his eyes almost drooping as he placed his arm over his eyes as if to prevent your being in his gaze.

“Did you have fun?” you sarcastically questioned, your arms crossed across your chest, the cold nipping at your delicate skin.

Instead of responding ordinarily, Draco opened his eyes, withdrew his arm, and gave you an euphoric look as his gaze wandered about you. He asked, gesturing to your hair, “Is your hair braided?”

You scowled and consciously touched your hair, which was braided but had become practically tangled in the hair ties since you had lay on the bed.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said as you started removing the hair ties from each side of your braid.

“No,” Draco exclaimed abruptly, leaping to his feet and snatching your wrist, halting your motions. “Don’t remove it…”

In your impeccable face, you had a surprised expression. Despite the swirl around him and his blurry vision, Draco could see the glint of affection in your eyes as you glanced at him. Draco would have cursed himself and probably regretted it, but he didn’t.

He took his hand from your wrist and gently tugged one of your braids in your hair, almost fondly, perhaps because he was intoxicated, but he couldn’t stop himself.

It frightens him.

Draco could tell your expression was impenetrable as you both stared for a while, his hand lingering over your braid. Because you were so motionless, he was certain you weren’t breathing. A flicker of something flashed over your face, then vanished as fast as it appeared. You took a hasty step back and narrowed your eyes at him.

He could only look at you, his hand hovering over the spot where you were only a moment earlier.

You sniffled. “You smell different,”

Draco was taken aback and questioned, “What?”

“You have the smell of a woman’s perfume.”

“What?” he asked again, completely baffled.

Your face was blank. “Did you really have fun?”

Your tone was accusing, your face was completely empty. But there were tears in your eyes, shimmering like lovely flecks of crystals, but they weren’t dropping, and it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you stop your crying. But it was evident in the silence that you were implying that he was cheating, and that thought was partially ridiculous.

Draco was well aware of your irrational hatred for him, but he had no idea how poorly you regarded him. Since you were ignoring him and acting as if he was invisible, he went out to spend time with his friends. He’d talk to his friends about his feelings and frustrations while drinking. Perhaps he smelt different because Pansy hugged him, platonically, and she’s dating Blaise for Merlin’s sake, maybe her aroma clung into Draco.

But the prospect of you dismissing his improvements or simply making him feel like shit made him say something, which he quickly regretted. “Do you blame me if I did?”

You froze, your eyes wide, and the misery on your face was palpable.

“You’re so fucking hard to love,” Draco continued, his mouth acting as if it had its own brain, and perhaps his inebriation was assisting him in saying things that struck you.

Draco’s voice was shaky and he staggered, collapsing against the couch and quietly grunting. He couldn’t read your face, and he didn’t really want to see your reaction, but he felt satisfied when he said that. The impact of the fall jarred his back, and he could hear shuffling.

You practically hissed, “Get up.”

Draco had a baffled expression on his face and exclaimed, “What are you doing, wife?” as you grabbed his arm and practically yanked him away from the couch.

Then you let go, and Draco sank into the bed’s soft cushion. Draco was rather hefty, so you let out a sigh of relief. His eyelids were droopy, but he had a mischievous grin on his lips as he made himself comfortable in bed.

“Are we—?”

“Sleep,” you demanded as you walked over to the other side of the bed, noticing Draco peering at you stupidly out of the corner of your eye. “What?”

“You’re going to let me sleep in the bed?” he asked, still completely baffled.

You felt compelled to smack him. “Would you rather sleep drunk on the couch?”

You grabbed a pillow and placed it between you and Draco, creating an internal barrier. As you fixed your side and the pillow, you could feel his eyes on you. You didn’t look at him once.

“There. So we’re still separated,” you replied nonchalantly as you lay down on your side.

“We’re already separated enough, don’t you think?” Draco mumbled sleepily.

You didn’t respond since you could hear soft snores next to you. Draco had already fallen asleep, leaving you alone in the dark, cold night, on the opposite side of the bed, with humid and sorrowful thoughts. You thought you were stupid, and perhaps you are, because you were being harsh and a brat.

You were in the garden at the time. It was lovely but bitterly chilly outside, and while you weren’t inside where Blaise and Pansy's wedding was taking place, you couldn’t help but crave some fresh air.

Despite the fact that they are both purebloods (which was almost likely set up as an arranged marriage) you can see they are much in love with each other. The way they stared at each other, sparkling crystal eyes with particles of devotion. You let out a tired sigh, oblivious to the fact that the door to the garden’s outside was opened and a figure stepped out.

“I figured I’d find you here,”

You fixed your gaze on the person. “Draco.”

He gave you a tentative smile and sat down on the bench next you, but not too close. At the same time, you were dissatisfied and relieved.

“I didn’t think Blaise or Pansy would settle…” you began hesitantly.

The sound of Draco’s chuckle was nearly pleasant in your ears. “They’re confusing. They break up and then get back together. I’m as surprised as you are.”

You discreetly remark, “They must really love each other.”

Draco remained silent and only gazed at you. You looked stunning, with the moonlight illuminating your features. Your outfit was lovely as well, but it was short and suggestive, causing you to shiver. He didn’t spend any time shrugging his coat and slung it over your shoulder, completely disregarding your protest.

“You look beautiful,” he says mindlessly. “But you’re cold.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, nearly frowning; was there a double meaning there?

“No problem, wife.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

Draco smirked fiendishly, but there was distress in his eyes. “You’re my wife, aren’t you not?”

“It must be a burden.”

His smirk had vanished, as if he had been smacked. “Well, if it’s a burden, then I’m willing to bear it,” he murmured.

Something was moist in your eyes, but you blinked rapidly. You could feel Draco getting closer to you, but you didn’t say anything. You were overwhelmed, your heart ached, and you desperately wanted to pull Draco closer to you, but you were initially reluctant.

“Draco—“

Draco abruptly grasped your freezing hands in his warm ones, lifted them to his lips, and kissed your knuckles; he didn’t remove them thereafter, instead staring at you with piercing eyes. You felt torn as your breath became stuck in your throat.

“Don’t say anything unless you say you want this marriage between us as badly as I do,” he murmured, brushing your knuckles with his lips.

You were on the verge of gaping at him. “You wanted this?”

“Of course I did.”

“I assumed you didn’t like me and that all the affectionate gestures you made were all a ruse,” you added almost incoherently.

Draco pointed out, “You were the one who loathed me.”

Feeling guilty, you shut your eyes. “Shit. I wasted many months.”

“We both did,” Draco murmured, releasing your hand only to play with the ends of your hair, a smile hidden. It was a braid, to be specific.

“I’m deeply sorry, Draco.” you said. “I’ve always thought of you as a fiend and the bane of my existence, knowing that you can’t take love seriously. And I was so wrong; I was so focused on myself and my selfish desire to be loved that I was blinded to the fact that it was I who was sabotaging your efforts to give me what I wanted.”

Draco tugged on your braid with tenderness, and you smiled.

He almost begged, “Just tell me you’ll start to love me.”

You turned around to face him, then kissed him after closing the gap between you—things that had previously separated you, the barriers had finally been broken down. Before Draco could react, he stiffened and drew you closer by the waist.

You mumbled into his lips, “I already started, simply blinded that it took me so long to know.”

You were now loved—you could feel it, even taste it, and it felt good—and you knew it. Your heart would no longer ache, and you would no longer shed longing tears for someone. Tears of color, droplets on the palette, it’s no longer there. The only thing that mattered was Draco and his touch.

“Oh my Merlin,” A man’s voice groaned. “Did I miss something?”

You broke apart and began flushing. You gave a surprised squeak as you stared at the man. It was Ron, and you couldn’t tell whether he was amused or repulsed by his face.

“Perhaps an invitation,” Draco drawls as he shields your face from Ron’s gaze and cradles your head against his chest. “I didn’t know you were invited.”

You smacked his sides and muttered into his chest, “Be nice.”

“You were too focused on Y/N, it’s disgusting.”

Draco remarked almost smugly, “She’s my wife, I can stare at her for as long as I want.”

“Perhaps the therapy with Hermione was helpful,” Ron rolled his eyes as he began to walk away.

Draco was dumbfounded, but you just laughed.

1K notes · View notes

siriusleee · 5 months

Text

iii. sterling silver

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳ SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳ WORD COUNT: 2.2K ↳ TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname. ↳ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to the discord girlies for letting me bounce things off of you guys. If you guys like the works, consider donating to my ko-fi. ↳ TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

You don’t want to tell him your name - it feels vulnerable - the type of vulnerability you couldn’t feel in years; the type of vulnerability that you don’t want to have with a man who’s treated you like he has.

“Tell me yours first,” your voice feels raw - you haven’t spoken this much in years.

His fingers flex on the rifle; in his eyes, you can see that he’s having the same internal struggle you are - the same fight to keep every little part of himself that he can. Finally, his hands loosen on the gun, and he sets it down, leaning it gently against the wall. You keep your eyes trained on his hands, on the scars that litter the skin, watching to see if he’ll suddenly snatch the weapon up again.

“I’m Ghost.” The words roll off of his tongue heavily, as if he’s speaking a foreign language he hasn’t spoken in years. As if the restrained gentleness is so odd on his tongue that he can hardly stand the taste of it.

“That’s not your real name.”

“‘Course it’s not.”

It’s not an explanation, not one that’s going to stretch this conversation out longer and keep you from giving up a piece of yourself to him. So you don’t, the first thing coming to mind spitting from you with half-hidden vitriol at having to say anything.

“My dad used to call me Dove.”

It feels strange to tell a stranger something about yourself. This stranger who nearly burnt you to a crisp and force marched you through the forest. Apprehension and a sort of giddy feeling hang in the pit of your stomach - there hadn’t been a single person you’d told that too since before the ending.

His expression doesn’t change between the black fabric of his balaclava; without a word, he disappears into the back room with your bow and arrows still clenched in his hands. His absence causes your brain to kick into overdrive: you could run now, but would he catch you? Would he need to catch you - why did he even bring you here? He still has your bow, and without it, you might as well resign yourself to starving between the trees.

You could take his rifle, but those are loud and attract Biters. Then there was the problem of finding ammo, so sparse these days that you might as well use it as a club for all the good it would do for you.

Before you can make a decision, Ghost arrives back into the room, hands empty of your equipment. He gestures to a chair on matchstick legs, hauling his pack onto the table. You hesitate to sit down, but finally give in when he shoots you a poisoned look.

It’s an immediate relief to be off of your feet. Blood rushes back into your toes, they sting painfully as you flex them in your threadbare boots. The skin that blistered beneath your burning pants itches terribly, and your chest feels like a weight of bricks lay on it, but it’s nice to just sit after nearly a day of walking. The muscles in your back ache terribly, and not for the first time since the entire world fell to shit, you find yourself wishing for a hot bath.

Your eyes never leave Ghost as he pulls two brown-gray packs from his bag; he tosses one at you, and you catch it on the end of your fingertips. You trace your fingers on the plastic package, your stomach grumbling and clenching at the sight of it.

“How did you get one of these?” You ask in awe, ignoring the suspicion that’s been plaguing you for the day.

“Does it matter?”

No. It doesn’t matter. Your hunger is stronger than whatever suspicion or anger you have at Ghost; anomalistically you rip into the bag, spilling the contents out across the table.

Crackers. Instant coffee powder. The little water-heated bag of lasagna. A chocolate chip cookie. Three different types of water flavors. Strawberry jam.

It’s more food than you've seen in one place in months.

You start with the cookie, shoving the entire thing into your mouth - it’s old and brittle. The chocolate has the chemical flavor of a cheap candy bar, but the sweetness is still so strong after having nothing similar in five years. Crumbs fall out of your mouth and onto your shirt, you hear your mom’s voice in your head chiding you about being ladylike, but you push it away. It’s not the kind of memory someone needs right now.

Ghost slides a half-filled bottle of water towards you; you snatch it up to activate the water heater of the food, holding it in your hands as it heats and reveling in the feeling against your cold fingers.

“You haven’t eaten much.”

It’s a statement, but there’s no judgment in Ghosts’s voice as he watches you grip the food, waiting for it to be done. You feel like a stray dog with a bone; you’d kill him if he tried to take it back from you. But he doesn’t do anything but lean back in his matchstick chair, his MRE unopened in front of himself.

“I eat what I can find.”

“Can you find much these days?”

You don’t like how he talks to you, like you’re a dog he’s trying to placate and earn its trust. Running your tongue across your teeth, you watch him, suspicion creeping back in again. It doesn’t feel right - the tone he’s talking to you in.

“Why did you kidnap me? Are we supposed to stay here forever?”

Ghost’s jaw works beneath his mask.

“I told you: I don’t know who you might run off to.” Each of his words is measured, bitten off at the perfect size.

“And tell them what? That a man with a skull mask nearly burnt me alive?”

“Yes.”

It’s maddeningly vague, but before you can retort Ghost speaks again.

“You should eat that. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Annoyed but starving, you tear into the package. The smell makes your mouth water, and for a second you’re back to dinner in your mom’s kitchen, but that second passes and you’re tearing into the hot food with your fingers. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so hungry. But all you’d had for weeks was the smallest squirrels that were too slow for your arrows. Most of them you’d eaten raw, your stomach getting hungrier with each passing day. A few you’d laid out in the sun to turn into jerky when you could spare the time to sit in one place. Deer were too large for you these days, muscle tone disappearing with the summer.

You lick your fingers clean, and then the package too. When you’re done, you turn your attention to the crackers, smearing them with the strawberry jam and then licking the crumbs from the package.

The only light left is the oil lamps gently illuminating the room. Once you wash the taste of the food from your mouth, your suspicion returns. Ghost hasn’t moved the entire time and when you’re done, he pushes himself out of the chair. His MRE sits abandoned on the table - you eye it suspiciously. There’s a test here, but you can’t work it out.

“You can sleep over there,” he says with a jerk of his head towards the dusty couch. “I’m taking watch.”

Watch for what? You want to ask, but you keep the thoughts to yourself, the taste of jam lingering on your molars. Ghost stares at you for just a moment too long, until you stand painfully and walk to the couch. Sitting for so long has made the pain in your side sharper, the feeling inside of your chest at being locked inside of this small cabin with a strange man more hollow. Curling onto the end of the couch, you settle yourself so that you can see the front of the cabin through the adjacent window, plastic yellowing where it had been taped over a broken pane. The forest outside shivers with the coming snowstorm - you should have been halfway to your winter camp by now. You don’t even know how to get back on the trail.

Ghost slams the door shut behind him; the sound makes you wince. It’s as if he’s completely unafraid of noise, of drawing attention to himself. You don’t like it.

It makes your stomach twist on itself, and you regret eating so fast. You think you might throw it all up. Ghost settles down onto the little stairs right outside the door, rifle resting across his knees. You let your head recline on the arm of the couch, watching him, and waiting for the right moment.

It comes deep into the night when your eyes are fighting to stay awake and your mouth tastes like cotton. He stands, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, and shakes his arms out. His boots crunch over the snow and frozen leaves as he walks at a measured pace along the edge of the cabin.

The moment presents itself to you, and you take it. The door opens with a ragged creak and slams with a shut that rattles the night behind you. But you slip against the snow, knee hitting the hard ground painfully. You let out a pained grunt, and the sound must alert Ghost to your escape.

Feet pounding the ground, you slip on the snow that’s gathered in the night. Behind you, Ghost breathes heavily, but even as the sound of his boots hitting the ground follows you. You should have gotten your arrows from wherever Ghost had hidden them.

You do a hairpin turn around an oak tree, and you hear Ghost shout from behind you.

“Stop! You're going to run right into them!”

You barely have time to think about his words before the ground drops out from below you for the second time today. Your hands scramble against the roots and vegetation that cover the drop-down, trying to find a purchase as you plunge toward a thick darkness.

In the snow-covered night, you crash into a ravine. The ice-cold water immediately pulls the breath from your lungs. You hear Ghost muttering curses as he slides down the drop-off.

You sink up to your wrists in icy mud as you try to crawl away from him, but your body is too broken from the day, the pain that scorches through you is too heavy and cold for you to go too far or fight back as Ghost wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you, your hands squelching as Ghost drags you from the mud.

He clamps his hand over your mouth, whispering harshly for you to shut up as he drags you back towards the wall of dirt and roots.

You try to kick him, but pain lances through the hip you fell on; Simon slings you behind the edge of a half-fallen tree covering your body with his, still hissing in your ear to shut up. You nearly bite your tongue from shivering so hard. He pushes you hard into the ground; you try to push yourself away from him when you hear it.

The cadence of human feet up above you, the steady clink of chains, and the low moan of Biter's. It comes from the bank opposite of you and Ghost. A sliver of flashlight appears at the top of the ravine, sweeping along the banks. Men’s voices sound out in the darkness.

“It was probably a fox screaming.”

“Check all around, just in case.”

You think you’re going to throw up, your heart is in your throat as Ghost presses himself harder onto you, trying to fold the two of you into the ground so that you’re not spotted.

Ghost hisses in your ear, close enough to make you shiver.

“That’s the body snatchers you’re so worried about.” He shives, his elbow digging into your side painfully, your surely broken rib seeming to crack harder beneath the weight of him, “Ought to let them catch you for this.”

The threat is enough to make your heartbeat quicken; you wonder if Ghost can feel it in his chest as it’s pressed against yours. The sound of chains and Biters moaning rolls through the cold night air, Ghost’s breath is warm on the shell of your ear. The men talk, quietly enough that you can’t make out their distinct conversations. It’s hard to breathe with Ghost’s hand wrapped over your head, keeping it held closely to the ground.

You want to look up and see if their flashlight is hovering over the two of you; you may have laid there all night and into the next night for all you know. But when Ghost lifts himself off of you, you shiver violently from the loss of his warmth. Pink tinges the horizon even though daylight is still hours off.

The mud coats almost every part of you, Ghost grabs your shoulder roughly and flips you over, brown eyes boring into yours, and his fingers digging painfully into the bones of your shoulder.

“You try to run away again, and I will let them catch you. Do you understand me?”

You don’t answer; you don’t think you can make your jaw work, but Ghost shakes you, loosening your tongue. The sterling silver moon is being pushed out of the sky above him, his brown eyes hard.

“I understand.”

#my fics #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #zombie au #simon riley zombie au

92 notes · View notes

lovelykhaleesiii · 3 months

Note

Omg the prompt!! Stalker!aegon w 7) Please don’t leave me. 🙏🙏

monster writing prompts

Companions

PAIRING: Stalker!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS:

WARNINGS: dark themes, stalking behaviour, manipulation, reference to Stockholm Syndrome, swearing.

His handsome face had grown familiar, although an eery chill coursed through your body whenever you passed by. He never missed a beat.

He was at your local park in the late evenings on the weekdays, as the glorious sun set itself into darkness. It was the only possible time you could go for an outdoor walk, considering you worked 9am-5pm, on the dot. And you initially thought not much of it, considering he too could be in the same position…

Although it grew even more odd, as you found yourself constantly in his presence. Whether it was at the local mall, your gym, or some cosy cafe tucked away into the corner of a street… He would always find you, and you him.

You naturally felt weary, anxious of the blonde man, as he often was alone and yet, paid no mind. At times, you caught fleeting glimpses of him, and occasionally exchanged a friendly smile. Although, as you grew more sensitively anxious of his intentions, you were desperate to avoid any contact even by means of eyes.

You soon tried to take unexpected turns and twists to your routine. Avoiding the park after work, you would remain in the confines of your home, only to feel the undivided attention of stern, hidden eyes embracing your figure through the clarity of the window.

Immediately blinds shut close. You could scarcely sleep… You would awake to a sudden creak in the floor, and yet as your eyes lurked and vigilantly scanned the dark corridors of your hallway, with only the beams of moon and streetlights aiding your vision, you were convinced it was merely the floorboards acting up. Little to know, a stranger was in your home.

You wanted to move, you no longer felt safe nor secure in the prior comfort of your humble abode and soon after, a blatant “for sale” sign stood proudly on your lawn.

The same creak followed that night, although this time heavier. Even your footsteps did not bear the same effect on your wooden boards.

As you hesitantly yet ever so slowly wandered the corridor, mindlessly and sleepily convinced you were once again, alone. Just as you had turned in defeat, intending to drudge back to bed, you were met with a sturdy force that stopped you from taking another step forward.

A few, crucial seconds had passed, as your mind had awoken in a bolt, fathoming that a stranger… Although, the stranger had trespassed into your home. Before releasing a chilling, ear aching scream only for a sheer second before the man forcibly drowned your screams of help, with the large palm of his hand.

“Don’t you fucking think to scream. I mean no harm at all, Y/N, just listen—”

Petrified, the hot tears began to swell in your eyes, blurring your vision before they shed themselves against your flushed cheek and the man’s hand. His other hand gripped your side tightly, embracing your body against his, you felt feeble against him, as you tried to squirm your way out, with no luck.

“Please don’t leave… Don’t ditch me now, this can be our chance together. Don’t take that away from me… I’ve been pursuing you from the start, and you never stopped me… I won’t fucking let you. Has my devotion not been enough? And you used to smile… What happened?”

How he knew your name you could scarcely say… and yet, your mind had plunged into a sink of memories (as you scoured for a name to fit his face, and immediately, “Aegon” had sprouted into your mind [hearing it being called out a dozen of times from the coffee shop].

“A-Aegon” your broken, muffled voice rejoiced. And immediately, a spark of relief tinged across his unnerving eyes.

“Y-You’re Aegon—”

“You-You know my name… My beloved knows my name, she does of course…”

His grip felt tighter around your bicep, as his hand covering your mouth loosened, your warm breath dampening his fair skin. You hadn’t realised just how close the proximity was, until you felt a twitching sensation brewing against your lower stomach, a bulge pressing into your soft tissue, in turn… Igniting an unfamiliar feeling in you.

“I-I promise… Your life will be better… I will make it better.”

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #stalker!Aegon ii #house of the dragon #hotd #Aegon ii imagines #Aegon ii imagine #Aegon ii fanfic #Aegon ii fanfiction #aegon ii x fem!reader #modern!Aegon ii

103 notes · View notes

5eraphim · 11 months

Note

Oof sorry for another one but can you do something where engi and you have your first date together at his house, but you have a tiny bit of an odd feeling about him. He's very sweet, but almost overly nice. He offers to make dinner for you and you say yes, but what you don't know is that he put aphrodisiacs in your food.

These prompts were so fire! So freaking fun to write for, thank you for these!!! I feel like ever since I've been writing short stories I've wanted to write a "you don't love me, you love how being loved make you feel" confrontation between reader and their yandere- very cathartic to finally get that scene out of my head and into a finished work!

Title: Birthday Cake

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, YOU KNOW THIS ISNT FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: MAJOR daddy kink, dub-con, spanking, aphrodisiacs, yandere, toxic relationship, forced intimacy, fingering, possessiveness

Word Count: 7k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"In my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you're whispering 'where have you been?' I say, 'I've been lost but I'm here now. You're the only person who has wver been able to find me.'" unknown title, Sue Zhao

You should've known better than to give in to the kindness of strangers. Well, perhaps not strangers, but the excessive displays of affection from your teammate Engie had long since worn out their novelty. You'd only been a member of the team for a few months yet, ever since then, Engie'd taken a certain special liking to you, something which bothered you right away. It wasn't your style to accept being fussed over by anyone, but no matter how you tried to politely push him away, he never seemed to take the hint.

What really surprised you was his latest act of kindness, inviting you to his place to share a meal together. A birthday dinner, his treat. You knew you never told him your birthday or anyone else for that matter, and you couldn't even guess how he found out or how long he'd known, and honestly, you weren't sure you wanted to know. You initially tried to politely decline, planning to make up some lie about plans to call family after work to celebrate. But he was stubborn, absolutely refusing to take no for an answer.

Something about his forwardness bothered you, but still, there were worse ways to spend a birthday, and you agreed to meet up at his place later that night. Giving you a comfortable amount of time to get cleaned up and changed out of your work clothes before you found yourself at the address he provided you earlier. Knocking at the door, you tried to ignore your rising anxieties and let yourself believe Engie was your friend and you had no reason to be so skittish. Perhaps a little too friendly sometimes, but not someone who would ever hurt you.

Engie held the door open for you as you entered, leading you through the kitchen; the smell of well-seasoned food cooking on the stovetop and roasting in the oven overtook you before you entered. While you'd never actually stepped foot in Engie's home, it looked exactly how you'd imagined. A cozy rustic kitchen with a wood stove, gingham-printed curtains and tablecloth, and a grand wooden table in the center, modestly set for two. You could hear the lazy strumming of some folk song on the small radio on the dark wood of the kitchen counter over the crackling of the low fire burning in the furnace on the other side of the room. Engie lived alone, but you knew he regularly invited family over; the dinner table alone could easily sit 10, but something about the sight of the massive table set for only two made it look so lonely, and you couldn't help but imagine how empty it must look set for only one as Engie was no doubt used to.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Engie's eyes following you as you made your way inside, and you wondered when was the last time he'd had non-blood-related company over. While you were still a bit uncomfortable with his forwardness, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe he was just nervous, and you had no reason to feel uncomfortable around him. He was your friend, an ally, surely not one who would mean you any harm.

You sat at one of the seats set for dinner, watching as he prepared two plates. Before he even opened the oven, the smell of Texan comfort food hung heavy in the kitchen and dining room. He kept the dishes he'd made in the oven to keep warm until you showed up, and judging by the considerable pile of dirty bowls and utensils piled by the sink, you reckoned he must've spent hours cooking. Watching from the table, you heard Engie humming as he pulled out a few deep dish bowls, unlidding them before loading up the two plates. He piled on roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, and thick cuts of meat you couldn't quite identify coated in a rich dark sauce, which were just the first things you noticed him dishing.

He said to you from over his shoulder, "There's biscuits on the table for you if you need something to nibble while you're waiting." Like you were even that hungry. But if the biscuits were half as appetizing as what he was dishing out, you were certainly tempted. You pulled one from the cloth-covered basket in the center of the table and bit into the still-warm biscuit, watching him approaching with two full plates in hand.

"I made sweet tea fresh this morning; care for a glass?" Before you could say yes, he was already turning back around to fetch the pitcher from the fridge.

"You really pulled out all the stops tonight, huh?" You were joking, though simultaneously were genuinely overwhelmed by his generosity. He just chuckled, and you thought you heard him muttering something under his breath along the lines of, "Anything for you."

For a few minutes, you chatted politely, listening to the radio, enjoying the home-cooked meal, and feeling the stress of the day melting away as you genuinely enjoyed the taste of his cooking.

"You made this all yourself?"

"Sure did! But it's all mamma's old recipes. You oughtta be thankin' her... How'd I do?" He smiled and tried to look modest, but the look in his eyes said, "I know it's perfect."

"It's amazing; she must've taught you well." You saw a light blush coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he looked down with a big smile. You hadn't expected he would get so flustered over such a simple statement. Though now that you thought about it, Engie was a bit friendlier this evening than normal, which for him was saying something. Perhaps it was for the best you tried to leave now before he got too carried away. Pulling away from the table slightly, you pushed your plate forward.

"Well, this has been wonderful, but I've had enough. Thank you so much for all this; you're so sweet." To your surprise, Engie's smile faltered for just a moment.

"You didn't finish…" He didn't look mad, but his face didn't entirely mask his disappointment.

"It's been a long day, Engie, but I'm about ready to crawl into bed… You aren't upset, are you?"

He perked right up after you said, "Aw shucks, of course not! I understand! I'm not upset. I just hoped I'd get the chance to give you one last thing."

Engie stood from his chair before you could ask what he meant by this, pulling something from the fridge, hiding it close to his chest, and out of sight from you. While you didn't know exactly what he was hiding, you consoled yourself by acknowledging, at least, whatever it was; it must've been quite small. He fidgeted with the thing for a moment before shutting the door to the fridge.

Engie smiled sheepishly, turning around, holding on to a little teacup saucer holding a miniature cupcake so small it could fit in the palm of your hand. A single little yellow birthday candle flickering on top.

"Engie, I can't accept this-'' You forced a nervous laugh while you felt guilty for letting him spoil you with dinner earlier; the cupcake made you feel even worse.

"Sure I did; it's your birthday, ain't it?" He drew closer, depositing the little treat before you as the candle continued to burn, little trails of wax dripping down the sides. You were conflicted, feeling a combination of obligation to accept the gift he'd been saving for last and not wanting to take anything more from Engie after he'd done so much already. While you admittedly didn't eat too much of the dinner he prepared, just enough to show gratitude for his efforts and to keep him from noticing how you kept cutting up the food into tiny pieces, pushing them around on your plate. While you felt bad about wasting the food, you knew you'd be sick if you tried to force yourself to eat it all.

There was no way you could get away with doing that with this. But you had to admit, it was pretty cute, and you didn't have the heart to turn him down now that that cupcake was right under your nose. Closing your eyes briefly, you inhaled before blowing out the candle, wishing silently to yourself out of this charmingly claustrophobic kitchen as fast as possible. Pulling the candle from the top of the cupcake, you held it in your hand for a moment before taking a bite.

You could've sworn you felt an oddness in the cake's texture for a split second when you swallowed. The cake was denser than you expected but tasted just as appetizing as it looked; you finished the tiny cake in a few bites.

Engie smiled warmly, reaching over and squeezing your shoulder, "Happy birthday, buddy'."

You were about to say something when you felt a bizarre warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, not unpleasant, just a little tingly. You took a deep breath, repositioning yourself in your seat, feeling a bit hot under the collar out of nowhere. Clearing your throat, you thought maybe the cupcake went down wrong, and there was a perfectly valid reason you felt so heated out of nowhere, but internally you felt a twinge of panic.

If this were a sudden sickness, it was like nothing you'd felt before. You tried your hardest to keep composure, telling yourself this was all in your head, there's no way you were genuinely so suddenly weak out of nowhere, but your body wouldn't listen. Once again, you found yourself fidgeting in your seat, unable to find a comfortable position. So distracted by the warmth spreading from deep in your gut through the rest of your body you almost didn't notice how heavy your head felt or the dryness in your mouth. Placing both elbows on the table, you clasped your hands together, resting your head on top of your fingers to keep yourself from losing balance.

Fortunately, Engie didn't seem to mind, or maybe didn't even notice, how quiet you were as he cleaned up the kitchen, humming softly to himself along with the radio. You heard his footsteps close behind.

"I'll get this out of your way."

You cleared your throat again, nodding a silent "thank you" as he took the saucer away. While you knew there was something a little off about the taste of the cake, you couldn't put your finger on what.

Forcing yourself to take another steady breath, you scooted back in your chair a little bit to press your back harder against the back of the chair, rolling out your neck slightly as you started panting. Much to your dismay, however, this did nothing to extinguish the odd warm sensation in your gut, which felt like it was spreading so quickly to spite you. Thankfully, due to the room's low light, there was no way Engie could see the way your face had begun to heat up. You didn't know if you were blushing because of the new found warm feeling between your legs, the strain of trying to appear emotionless and unbothered, or the embarrassment of being caught in such a situation in the first place, or likely an unbearable combination of the three.

You couldn't stop fidgeting, unclasping your hands to grip the chair's armrests as you backed up a little harder into your seat. Under the table, your legs, already crossed, began to squeeze a little tighter together, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a sound of frustration as you felt the skin of your breasts and nipples tingle a little, becoming more sensitive on account of whatever the hell it was going on inside your body."No, no, not the body- just in your head. It's all in your head; just take a few deep breaths, hug him goodbye, and you'll be out in no time. you've got this." You could feel your hands white-knuckling your chair's armrests as your head dipped forwards, eyes shutting as you tried to maintain composure.

By now, your breathing had become rapid, and while you knew it was best to keep your head back to let in as much oxygen as you could, you no longer had that kind of inner strength. The best you could do now was pant as quietly as possible as that awful warmth intensified deep inside. You were scared, wondering what the hell had gotten into you, but to a lesser extent didn't care and wanted nothing but to grind your legs together even harder or slip a hand between your legs. To do something- anything, to satisfy the awful neediness between your legs. There was no denying it now; you were wet for sure.

This was agony. Your jeans felt a size too tight, the cotton denim like sandpaper against your legs, chafing your poor sensitive skin, to say nothing of the inseam of your jeans you were painfully aware of against your clit. Swallowing hard, had no idea you'd been salivating so notably. While the intensity of your arousal began to plateau, focusing on anything else like this was impossible.

Before now, you tried to keep your eyes open, spotting against random objects you could see in the room to try and keep yourself grounded, but by now, your eyes were fluttering and shut against your will, and the room seemed to spin when you tried to focus on anything. The feeling of Engie's hand suddenly touching your shoulder, his fingers barely making contact, caused you to jolt fully upright in alarm.

You had no idea how he got back to you so fast, nor how long he'd been standing over you like that, but you were rendered functionally speechless in surprise, looking up with him wide-eyed, your neck still bent forward slightly, unable to support the full weight of your head, forcing you to turn your face to make eye contact, feeling pathetic as he looked down at you from this position.

"Hey, did ya hear me? Are you feeling alright? You're looking a little, uh… warm." It was hard not to cringe hearing him speak like that. Engie could sense you were extremely uncomfortable, but you silently prayed he just thought you were feeling ill. Trying desperately to convince yourself he couldn't detect your sudden unexplainable arousal. He knew something was happening with you, and it was humiliating to hear him trying to be so polite about it.

You managed to lean away from his touch; you tried to force yourself to straighten back up in your chair and were about to answer when a spontaneous throb of arousal caused you to tense up and shrink into yourself. Engie had to grab both your shoulders to keep you steady and prevent your head from crashing forward into the table. Despite this, you tried to wriggle away again but couldn't manage to shake his hold on you.

You can hear him saying your name, his voice heavy with worry, only making you feel sicker. But your head felt too fuzzy to speak, no matter how hard you try to respond. Your mouth won't work, and you were forced to stay held in place until you manage to center yourself well enough to answer. Taking a shaky breath, you speak in a rasp,

"I'll be fine; I just need rest." You hardly sounded like yourself, so trembling and hoarse.

"Honey, c'mon now, you can tell me what's wrong." He tried to squeeze your shoulders a little to relax you, but you only whined slightly at the feeling of his strong fingers, feeling so supportive and stable against your limp, overheated body. You knew if his hands were enough to make your head spin like this, you needed to get out as fast as possible.

"Engie- I'm going home now." Even though your words were slurred, you managed to speak clearly enough to express that much, still fidgeting in your seat to try and break free from his hold on your shoulders. Your eyelids felt so heavy, your face so warm, all you wanted to do was change into your pajamas and get a little sleep. Wanting more than anything to get back in your own bed and get rid of the awful burning inside your body. But thinking like that was dangerous, and you didn't dare let your mind wander while you were already feeling so turned on.

"You can rest upstairs in my room, c'mon lemme help you up."

"No!" Your eyes shot open as you tried to lurch out of his grip like a cornered wild animal; you were already scared, and thinking about what would happen if he brought you up to his room only made things worse.

"Don't take me up there! Wanna go home- please, please, not upstairs- I don't want to!" It was humiliating to hear yourself begging like a child being sent to bed early, but you couldn't stop. You tried to use your grip on the armrests to pull yourself away from Engie, but he was too strong, and all you would do was tire yourself out fighting like this. You couldn't tell if you were actually crying or if you just felt like you were. Trying to fight against the wicked desire quickly sapped all your inner strength; it hurt to try and keep up like this; you just wanted it all to be over.

"Hey, easy now, I've gotcha. I'm not gonna hurt ya-" Engie spoke to you like he was trying to calm a spooked mare. He let go of one of your shoulders to turn the chair you were sitting in away from the table so you were facing him before returning the hand to your shoulder. You were too embarrassed to look him in the eye, keeping your line of sight straight ahead on the wall behind him. Feel sick listening to him patronizing you like you were his little pet, not another grown adult, much less his own comrade.

"Then let go!" You meant to sound immature, but the meat you could manage was another childish pout.

"I ain't lettin' go. You're not looking too good there, honey; if I let ya go, you're gonna hurt yourself. I ain't about to let that happen." Despite having to physically wrangle you like this, Engie sounded as calm as ever. You whined as your muscles went limp, as you finally gave in and let him hold you upright.

"Engie, I don't wanna- Please, just take me home…." Surely he could feel how you continued to tremble under his hold, maybe even picking up on how your skin was practically hot to the touch, but you didn't care.

"Listen, I know you don't feel well, and you're lookin' even worse. My room is right upstairs; I want you to sleep in my bed until you're feeling better." Despite his syrupy-sweet voice, you still felt too disturbed to let your guard down.

"Don't make me go to your bed…" To your surprise, you could hear Engie laughing gently about this before feeling him help you up. You wrapped your arms around his forearms to help brace your weight a little while you struggled to find your footing before wrapping one of your arms around his neck, leaning entirely against him to support yourself. Your face was now painfully close to his, all while he merely regarded you with his easygoing smile.

"Aw honey, I wasn't gonna make us share the bed!" He winked before continuing, "Temptin' offer though it may be." Feeling your body pressed close against him like this was doing nothing to help your situation, you grit your teeth, forcing your face to turn from his to the stairs across the room. Without another word, he helped you make your way to the stairs.

A part of you wondered if he was going so slowly up the stairs to prolong your misery as long as he could; at least, that's what it felt like to you. You used one arm to grab his arm around your shoulders while the other white-knuckled the handrail; not once did his arms budge from either around your waist or from your shoulders, the side of his body crushingly tight up against yours. While the feeling of helplessness and discombobulation was wretched, you hated yourself for clinging so tightly against Engie, letting him lead you upstairs to his bedroom, despite your trepidation.

When the two of you finally made it to the top of the staircase, you were about to step foot on the second floor when you felt Engie mumble something into your ear as you bit down on your lower lip to keep from moaning at the feeling of his lips grazing against your ear, breath fanning over the side of your face, and tickling your neck without warning.

"Almost there now, honey. You're doing so good, just a little longer." You nodded, feeling as though your knees were about to give out at any second.

By the time you reached the doorway of Engie's bedroom, you didn't wait for him to get the door first. You turned the knob yourself and pushed open the door, too blinded by the idea of finally getting to lay down to worry about waiting to be invited in first. Engie helped push the door open wider as the two of you staggered inside. You refused to stop moving until you were in bed, and with almost drunken, unsteady steps, you finally found your respite, crashing into the soft flannel sheets the moment your shin connected with the edge of the bed.

Finally lying down, you lay, sprawled out on your back for a moment, giving yourself time to catch your breath. At last, you were lying down and in bed; nothing in the world mattered right now except for the cozy cotton sheets that provided you with a little nook to curl up inside of.

For just a moment, you felt better, the burning wasn't gone, but at least now it was a bit less uncomfortable.

"Usually, I'd make the bed before the company shows up, but you look pretty cozy down there. Are you feeling any better, darlin'?" You didn't answer; rolling onto your side, away from the side of the bed where he stood, you buried your head in the pillows, twisting the sheets and blankets in your hands, pulling them closer. Not exactly to cover yourself with, but just to have something soft and comfortable to grip onto, something much better than the hardwood of your chair's armrest. But it was more than that. Something about being in his bed like this felt so perfect like you were exactly where you needed to be in the universe. You were hyper-aware of Engie's scent trapped in the bedding, shamelessly nestling your face directly into it, wanting to feel it all over you. No matter how embarrassing it was to be watched in a state like this for a moment, you allowed yourself to indulge. Writhing into the blankets, using them to wick the sweat from your forehead and neck, nestling your head into the nook where the pillows met the bed.

You thought you could hear him chuckling from above, but you weren't sure, but the idea of him getting so much enjoyment watching you nestling into his bed made you self-conscious, making you whine in irritation, the sound almost entirely drowned out by the pillow. Still, the shame wasn't enough to keep you from wrapping both legs around the top blanket of the bed, spooning the fabric, feeling blissful but frustratingly unsatisfying on account of your jeans keeping the blankets from rubbing up against your bare skin. Despite the bed's softness, you somehow couldn't manage to get comfortable and couldn't stop from kicking and thrashing like a fish out of water. The smell of Engie flooding your senses was the only thing going through your mind, but it still didn't feel like enough. You could feel the bed dipping as Engie sat on the side of the bed, his hand against your shoulder, making you shiver and your nails dig into the blankets.

"Can't get comfy down there? You need me to grab you something to drink?" With a snicker, he continued, "Need daddy to read you a bedtime story?"

You frowned, looking up at him over your shoulder, "Don't talk to me like that."

"Aw c'mon, you know I'm only-" He tried to laugh it off, but for some reason, you found yourself more agitated than usual at his ribbing.

"You know what I mean!"

"Pardon?" He lifted his hand from your shoulder as you rolled from your belly to your side to look at him. Something about the awful heat coursing through you made you more brazen than usual, and you could not stop yourself from acting confrontational.

"I hate when you act like that- When you look at me like you know better than me! You're not responsible for me. I don't need you to take care of me!" His brow creased as he looked at you, hurt, confused, and completely taken aback by your sudden attitude. Your breathing was ragged, and it was hard to keep your voice from rising. You didn't know where this anger was coming from, but it felt as though you were finally telling him how much you hated when he babied you. The suddenness and intensity confused you, but the catharsis was there all the same. Telling him how you really felt. For so long, you'd been forced to be professional and mild-mannered around your comrade while he would condescend and coddle you; to finally bear your emotions like this felt damn good.

Engie tried his best to force a small smile to mask the hurt you could still see in his eyes, "I don't do this because you're weak; I never said you were weak-"

You laughed bitterly, "Right, it's because you're just such a nice guy; how could I forget?"

Engie spoke slowly, "I only do this because I care about you; I only want what's best. You know that."

"You don't love me. You love how being needed makes you feel!" By now, you were certain you were crying and weren't even really talking to Engie; now, you were talking to him. In your heart, you weren't really mad at him, but you hated how weak you felt when he prioritized you over the rest of the team. You slackened a little, pulling the blanket up to bury your head in it, sobbing. After a moment, you felt his hand putting the top of your head.

"Of course I love you-"

"No, you don't! You just want to protect the weak, isn't that right? That must be why you're always focused on me, right? I'm nothing but the weakest of the team to you! I'm nothing but a charity case; all you care about is making yourself feel better." You were helpless to stop all the awful insecurities you tried so hard to hide from the rest of the world from surfacing now. Engie huffed a little, moving his hand from your hair to your chin, forcing you to turn and look at him.

"So I'm the selfish one, is that it? I spend all this time with you, cook for you, let you sleep in my own bed, and that makes me the selfish one?" You had to bite back a moan at the feeling of his fingers gripping your face so tightly.

"You slipped me something, didn't you?" It was a surprise to hear your voice so level after screaming and crying. Engie looked more surprised than offended by your words but didn't say anything to his defense.

"I bet you did this, didn't you! Fucking hell, you'd do anything to be the hero- to just come to everyone's rescue. You don't care about me; I bet you don't even like any of the rest of us!"

His eyes narrowed. "Don't say that."

"That's the only reason I'm here, isn't it? You wanted to get me all alone, slip me God knows what so you could take me here and wait till it knocked out to start touching yourself over my unconscious body. You've been planning this, haven't you!" Despite your harsh words, Engie didn't look offended. Nothing worked, no matter how you tried to anger or convince him to kick you out. He merely sighed, face softening as his fingers gently caressed the side of your face.

"Let it out, sweetheart; you've had a long day. Just get it out of your system; you'll be alright." You didn't say anything in return, and for a moment, you wondered, "Would it really be so bad to let him have his way?" Your eyes drift shut as you feel Engie's fingers brush away your tears, smoothing back your hair. No matter how you tried to deny it, letting, him treat you like his little girl felt good. Why had you fought him back for so long? Now that you weren't fighting back, his touch no longer felt smothering but soothing. And you felt in that moment that he was the only thing in the world that could satisfy your desire.

"I'm gonna get you a change of clothes, just lay back." The bed creaked a little as he lifted himself from the mattress.

You spoke in a broken, pitifully small voice, "I shouldn't have said that."

"I know you didn't mean it." He was in the same room but sounded so far away you wanted him back in bed.

"It was still wrong to say.." As he returned to his perch by your side, you twisted in bed, laying on your side.

He smiled, "I forgive you." You wanted to say you didn't deserve it, but at the moment, you couldn't find the words; all you could manage to do was stare at him with puppy eyes.

"Do you want me to help you out of your clothes?"

At first, you were about to question why he was acting so brazen, but then you realized at some point during your fight you'd started to wriggle in bed nervously, mindlessly pawing at your bottoms, trying to pull them off while your fingers were too numb and awkward to work the buttons or the zipper. Time felt like it slowed down for a moment; the two of your eyes locked as you understood the weight of his question. You nodded.

"I need to hear you say it." Engie's soft voice is as assuring and gentle as ever, yet unmistakably firm. While you were putting up a fight for a while there, you both knew who was really in charge here. Forcing yourself to keep eye contact, you managed a "yes, I would." Engie's sweet smile betrayed his dirty mind.

"Roll back over onto your stomach." You didn't understand why he wanted this, but you immediately complied. You bit down on a pillow to muffle the sounds you made when you felt Engie's fingers find your jean's button, undoing it and pulling the zipper all the way down just as easily, while you couldn't help but whine and twitch at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your bare underbelly, and the sensation of his fingers over your clothed pubic mound for just a second as he undid the zipper. You took a deep breath after the zipper was undone, feeling the most relief you'd felt all night. He gave you a moment to breathe deeply before his hands made their way to the waistband of your jeans and, with a few tugs, pulled them past your hips as you kicked your legs to try and help him remove the awful denim from your body. Your thighs spread wider, blessedly now unrestricted against Engie's blankets while he looked down at the beautiful sight. You couldn't help but sigh audibly into the pillow; at long last, you were free.

"Shirt too?" You mumbled, but Engie understood what you wanted, grabbing the bottom hem of your top as he pushed it up and over your head with your bra while you slid your arms through the sleeves. Leaving you stripped down to nothing but your underwear. The feeling of his sheets, his smell now directly below your skin, felt heavenly, your tits perking up a little, still tingling from earlier as you rubbed yourself over the bed, breathing heavily in through your nose and out through your mouth. While Engie was more than excited to finally get a chance to get his hands on you, he wasn't about to rush you here.

You were entirely right to call him out for planning this, and despite a few snags along the way, the evening was shaping up exactly how he hoped it would. And while he expected your hesitation and your near-certain anger when you realized he was responsible for your current situation, Engie had every confidence that in just a bit of time, you would be thanking him for all this. All he had to do was wait, and for you, he'd wait forever if he must.

He trailed his feeling hand down the curve of your ass as you felt the rubber glove brushing against the swell of your hip. His fingers playfully drummed along the flesh of your ass while you shivered and bit down a little harder on the pillow in your mouth.

"I forgive you, and I love you- but you outta know how to watch that mouth of yours."

" 'M sorry, it won't happen again." You babbled, half talking to him, half speaking into the pillow. You weren't strong enough to look him in the eye, but you were just horny enough to tell him whatever he needed to hear.

"Oh, I'm sure it won't. But someone ought to teach you a lesson." You felt his ungloved fingers squeezing against the flesh of your ass, assuring you of exactly where his attention was. Knowing you had his full attention elicited another stir of excitement inside you.

"Mhm?" He spoke softly, but you could pick up on the dark edge of his words even in such an inebriated state.

"Maybe this is my fault. I've been spoiling you all this time, and I haven't even laid a hand on you." Using his gloved hand, he gave a little testing pat against your rear, not hard at all, but enough to make a sharp smacking sound fill the room. You sighed at the feeling; he was right; he was being too soft, and you needed more. Needed his attention now more than ever before.

You were about to say something, anything to urge him on, but he literally beat you to it, his glove slapping against your ass again, a little bit harder this time, forcing you to bite down onto his pillow to muffle your little shriek of surprise. The residual soreness didn't have time to set in fully before you felt another blow, followed by another and another and another. Not harder or softer, he set a steady rhythm for the two of you. You could feel the blood rushing to the sore area and couldn't imagine how red you must've looked.

It felt good to be used like this. To feel held accountable for taking advantage of "the nice guy" for so long. Now he wasn't going easy on you, and it was exactly what you needed. By accident, his hand struck a little closer to your cunt than he intended; maybe he didn't aim right, or perhaps you accidentally spread your legs too wide. You didn't know. In response to this feeling, you spread your legs even wider.

"Maybe I ought to bring you off the battlefield and back home with me. Set ya to work on the old Conagher farm. I know it'll do ya real good to get outta the city, give ya a 'lil perspective. You'd fit right in; I can see it now." He was mostly rambling to himself than actually speaking to you, but you followed along all the same. In any other situation, you'd never let him get away with implying he could so easily take you home and "tame you," but given how horny you already felt, you were ready to tell him everything he wanted to hear if it meant you would finally get some satisfaction.

"I'll go anywhere with you! Please, Engie, please keep going; I fucking need it! I-I need you so bad, Daddy!" You peeked your head over your shoulder and felt your heartthrob at the sight of his face softened with love and eyes twinkling like little stars. Good Lord, would you give anything to cum on that beautiful face of his. You weren't aware of the wet spot of drool he could see from where you were biting down on the pillow and the mess of spit around your lips.

He used his thick fingers to brush against the soaked fabric covering your sex; the feeling of at last getting a bit of friction between your legs made your head roll forward, crushing your face into the pillow, mindlessly rocking your hips against his fingers.

"You're gonna be good for me from now on? No more attitude?" He was moving too slow, intentionally shying his fingers away whenever you tried to get closer, mocking your neediness. While you were reduced to a wet, mindless mess sobbing incoherently, "Yes, I will! I promise I'll be good; I promise I'll be good! Please, Daddy, please, Daddy- I need it so bad, please!"

His fingers paused, directly over exactly where you needed them, his glove gripping the curve of your hip, keeping you from grinding against him, forcing you to remain painfully in place, the strain of staying in this position its own hell on Earth. "You promise you'll behave?"

Without missing a beat, you kept, "I promise!"

You can hear his proud smile without looking back at his face. "All right, darlin', if you promise." He sounded just like a proud father; no wonder he stepped into the role so well.

He continued to grope at your ass with his gloved hand, pushing your underwear to the side as he finally slipped his fingers inside. By now, you were practically too weak to keep grinding against him, but fortunately, you wouldn't last much longer. You felt like you were on edge for hours, and feeling Engie's fingers working their magic inside your body was that last little push you needed to send you over the edge. His thumb worked in sync with his fingers, a thick coating of your slick messily seeping from inside, helping him to go even faster.

You wished you didn't have to be on your stomach, Engie sitting off to the side, so far away. You wanted to wrap your arms around him, feel his naked flesh against your body, but inhaling his smell and grinding against his sheets would have to do for now. You spread your thighs wider as you felt yourself clenching against his fingers, your climax so close it hurt. Back arching as you mindlessly pushed yourself even harder against his fingers, the intensity building until you finally came. Seeing all white as relief washed over your entire body, the tension easing up as pleasant little after-shocks began to set in. The awful burning desire inside satisfied as you went limp, settling heavily into his bed with a heavy sigh.

By now, the sheets were dampened by your sweat, though you were too tired to care much, feeling no real discomfort while laying in a little puddle of your own sweat. While Engie's handiwork had mercifully taken care of the burning inside, you could tell your head wasn't quite clear yet. The loopy, needy feeling now morphed into comfortable drowsiness, making your afterglow feel all the sweeter. You winced a little while Engie withdrew his fingers and the vague sensation of your wetness sloppily trailing his hand. You could hear him wiping the slick off onto the bedsheets before petting the top of your head gently.

"Feelin' better now?" Your tongue felt too heavy in your mouth to formulate any words, but you nodded, making a quiet sound of affirmation while your head remained buried in the pillows.

"And what do we say when someone does something nice for us?" He sounded easygoing, but you knew he wanted a real answer out of you. Turning your head to rest a cheek on the pillow, you sleepily half-opened one eye to try and focus on him.

"Thank you, Daddy." It was a dull mumble of an answer, but it appeased him well enough. He ruffled your hair before you could hear the sound of Engie undressing, letting his button-up shirt and stiff work pants join your jeans on the floor. By the time he nestled up in bed with you, wrapping your limp body up with his strong arms, you were already more than half-asleep. Maybe the excessive fatigue was a side-effect of whatever slipped earlier. For a moment, you wondered if you would wake up with a hangover or not, but the thought left your head almost as quickly as it came. Even without the mystery drug in your system, it was certainly possible that your brain was better off trying to shut down and try not to think too hard about what just happened and even less about what the morning might bring.

Within your final moments of coherency, you could feel your body pulled against Engie's bare chest until you were close enough to rest your cheek against his flesh. He tucked your head under his chin as he muttered to himself.

"I wasn't lying' when I said I love you, honey. I love you more than anything else; I'd never lie about that."

214 notes · View notes

nmjoo-n · 2 years

Text

REAL OR NOT REAL 🍦 jung hoseok.

pair. fashion designer! hoseok x fem! reader | genre. one night stand, strangers to lovers, pining, romance, slight angst | warnings. profanity, vaping, pet names, jealousy, age gap, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praising, spanking, slight degradation, masturbation, edging, voyeurism, fingering | word count. 7.9k

synopsis. “you’ve been begging to get fucked since the moment you walked through that door, beautiful. real or not real?” or hoseok respectfully couldn’t give less of a fuck what your father thought of him. he wouldn’t stay away from you.

January is the coldest month of the year in Osaka.

Snow falls white and melts slowly, temperatures drop to single digits and stay there for weeks on end, but the Sōsei River always flows the same to you, even underneath ice, even after kissing a boy next to it, forever changing the course of your life. It stays moving, unbothered; water as water does. In that way it seems to you, you’ll never truly be rid of Jung Hoseok. Or his blueberry ice vape smoke.

It was through no fault of yours the attraction your body held for him. As if a magnet existed between the two of you, your bodies seemed attuned to one another, joined by a force greater than logic, than reason. Because it made absolutely no sense how badly you wanted him to fuck you in the storage room on your break that first time he walked through the doors of your dad’s ice cream parlor. None.

Nor were you ever going to admit how fast he got under your skin, charmed you into bed with a single dazzling smile, offering you a room in the most expensive hotel in your city, messing those feathery soft curls up with his long fingers. You were in big trouble. It wasn’t even the flirting that did it, it was the determination; the stubbornness of his coming to the shop every single day since that afternoon, picking a different flavor on a cone, a cup, a waffle bowl; with sprinkles, then plain, then all kinds of syrups—and your choice, what he’d seen once next to the register, vanilla ice cream with caramel drizzle and brownie chunks. What he witnessed your tongue lick off a plastic spoon when time stopped once and for all for him.

Your dad had noticed, of course. How could he have not—you were a neighborhood store, with regulars that dated back so many years before your birth. Newcomers were few and far between, usually foreigners. Americans. Hoseok was the odd one out from the beginning. But it never seemed to bother him, all the stares—you doubt he’d even noticed.

He looked important with his shoulder length dark hair, hair that curled at the ends, sunglasses always covering those almond shaped eyes. The clothes he wore was a whole other thing; the designs and patterns mixing together, colors clashing in the most interesting of ways. When you asked how is he not yet absolutely fucking sick of ice cream, he answered:

“I come here for you.” You knew that. Everyone knew that.

“I’m working, sir.”

Hoseok smiled at that. He looked really sweet when he smiled; younger too, though you guessed he couldn’t be a day above twenty five. His skin was clear, the way he carried himself was assertive, confident. Not arrogant, just self-assured, if maybe a little cocky. But it suited him, you thought. His straight, pearly white teeth blinding, was making it hard to look straight at him.

It was definitely not how handsome he was. Or the black card in his hand, the card he always used to pay for his purchases, several rings adorning his long fingers, colorful bracelets in both wrists. A character, that’s what this man was. Eccentric, but not loud. Demanding to be seen, to be looked at, but not expecting it. It really was no mystery how you ended up in his bed, just one week after that.

“You get off at some point, though, don’t you, doll? Or does your daddy lock you up in here?” He commented, then chortled to himself. “Can’t blame him—I wouldn’t bear to lose you either.” And then he winked at you.

If you lost your footing for a second there, you regained your composure just as fast. He really had a way about him; his incessant flirting, the silent observing he did in the five minutes he spent at the shop every day—so far he knew the man on the other end of the counter was your father, watching over the stream of clients and, of course, his daughter. Only daughter, if Hoseok were to take a not-so-wild guess, the reason for his overprotectiveness. And something else, something he found by honest chance, what led him to keep coming back for the creamy dessert—

He saw you leaving class one morning, right before Christmas break. You were with friends, completely oblivious to the single fucking fact—your beauty. You were breathtaking in your white skirt and lilac sweater, chunky snow boots trudging along the pavement, laughing wildly, openly. A force of nature, the girl with the knitted sweater—a fashion major. Like him.

But for him that school had been a struggle of the past; four years to be exact. You were a sophomore, he’d learned from one of his good faculty friends in the University, a promising student.

“Show me her designs.”

Talented, indeed. Unique, with soft lines and interesting uses of light and sewing. A pioneer in the use of delicate fabric like silk and lace, surpassing even him, though hard to admit. A bittersweet revelation, but an awakening all in one. An asset for his atelier, if you’d do him the honor of joining his team of five. But how could he ask you, and when would it be the appropriate time?

Hoseok didn’t want to scare you, or pressure you into anything you weren’t comfortable with. He’s been sketching since he was a little kid, no more than four years old on his mom’s kitchen table, his childhood home, so far away from Japan, and yet not far at all. Tall silhouettes with no faces, clothes draped over them, inexperienced and sloppy. No technique, no real life in them. No source of inspiration for him to draw from—like an answer to his prayer, twenty four years too late, you show up.

He’d rather slit his throat than let you slip from his fingers. So, he follows and ends up at an ice cream shop. A small business, with minimal, sand white interior and the largest selection of flavors he’s ever seen. Things he’s never even tasted. Brown sugar tea, matcha chocolate chip, peanut butter caramel—nonsensical combinations that with time he grew to love. Because you’d thought of them, because your mind worked different, and he loved your mind.

Jung Hoseok swore to himself that first time he entered the parlor—this girl will be mine. Damn anyone that stands in my way.

“He’s noticed, you know,” you say, trying to scare him away with the menacing thought of your father, an authoritative figure, a military man.

“Has he?” Hoseok takes the cone from you, taking a cookie chunk in between his lips. He watches you watch him, basks in your attention.

He wonders if you’d give him the same eyes as he’s licking your sweet pussy all over, getting you ready for him. A distracting thought, certainly a dangerous one, but he was never one to back down from a challenge. And you were important; a muse, a fellow designer he respected and needed with him as soon as possible, no matter the title you’d end up having under him, whether it be friend, girlfriend, fuck toy. As long as he got to work with you, learn from you, and show you in return. Hoseok wasn’t a selfish man, something that’s bothered him immensely. He offered options, he accepted refusals. He thought he could accept yours with dignity, until he got a taste of your mouth, of your cunt.

After that, ‘no’ was an alien word to him, a concept he banished from his vocabulary. For you. Because of you. You’d have him negotiating enormous amounts of money to have you work for him in a few weeks time, and if only the both of you were aware of that earlier. Then, maybe the heartbreak wouldn’t have been so terrible, the loss not as great.

“A twenty five year old man obsessing over his daughter? Yes, I think that’d be quite clear,” you retorted sarcastically. “Sir.”

Hoseok rose an eyebrow at your chosen name for him, sensing the power you thought you held by addressing him like that. If you were anywhere else but there, he’d bend you over and show you what a stubborn fucking girl like you got for calling him ‘sir.’ But in front of your father? He smirked.

“Twenty eight, sweetheart,” he corrected you, amused. “The rest was correct.”

A new person walked in, then, the bell above the door ringing as the door closed behind them. Your arms uncrossed from under your chest, your breasts bouncing slightly in your bra. The brown haired man tightened the hold he had on the waffle cone, the crunchy sound of it breaking apart bringing him back at once. Your father neared the part of the counter you stood at.

“You need to leave,” you pleaded this time, and it was your panicked tone that made Hoseok question the true hold your dad had on you. “Please, okay?”

“You heard the girl, young man,” the older man brushed him off, welcoming the customer warmly. But the threat remained, lingered over both parties like a cloud heavy with rain.

Leave or else.

“I don’t answer to you, old man,” he retaliated, keeping his tone calm, his anger under control. For your sake. For his, later on. “I’ll see you later, doll, yeah?”

He turned to walk away, but not before seeing your small nod towards what he’d said. You feel the same, don’t you, pretty baby? I fucking knew it, I saw right through you.

Hoseok is nothing if not patient. He’ll wait as long as it takes.

The second time he sees you outside the shop, he approaches you. He tells himself it’s not like the first time, you know him now, he has reason to fall in step with you, ask where you’re heading.

Your coat is chocolate brown, your scarf a burgundy shade that matches your lips. He imagines you wearing his clothes, his designs, sketched after you, your body type. If you let him. He’d work the hardest for you. He could think of no one else better than you to model his creations.

“Let me guess what’s under that coat, beautiful.”

You jump at his voice, clutching at your bag protectively. He chuckles, hands in the pockets of his oversized leather jacket. Shinsaibashi is busy at this time, a late evening on a Saturday. Valentine’s Day decorations have already been put in place, January giving way to February, the snow leaving with it. The lights of the station ahead of you illuminate in your eyes, the flush on your cheeks giving you an animated glow. Hoseok can’t stop staring.

He wants to wrap his arms around you, pull you close. Take you on a date. Bring you to his Atelier and keep you there, a prisoner for art, but for something else too, something he can’t quite put a finger on. He’s attracted to you, of course, you’re so fucking gorgeous it makes his chest ache with the thought of someone else even looking at you. A possessiveness with no grounds—he has no way of showing this to you in a healthy way.

It’s a primitive instinct, caveman behavior. Usually, such feelings are below him, they never end up reaching his heart enough to shake him. His mother raised him a gentleman, and then she passed with her mind at ease. He promised this to her; he’d always treat women with respect, always put his manners above his desires. But with you—he’d undress you right there, against the traffic light pole. He’d fuck himself into you until you know no other words aside his first and last name. Hoseok wants to own you, he realizes with a strange terror.

Your body, and your genius mind. He’d do fucking anything.

“Do you always walk up to women like that?” You ask, avoiding his gaze, instead focusing with all your might on your destination.

He chooses not to reply to that. His cheap dates and faceless women that’ve passed through his bed are of no concern to you. “You love your knits, don’t you?” He fingers the sweater poking through the collar of your coat.

“What’s the interest in my clothing choices?”

“I’m a fashion enthusiast through and through, doll. Some call me a designer.”

You stop at that. He misses the sound of your heeled boots immediately, the way they hit the pavement confidently, with purpose. He wonders how the leather of them would feel around his shoulders, digging into his skin.

Your eyes squint at him. “Are you lying?”

“I don’t lie very well,” he replies honestly.

“How’d you know, then?” You question him. “Surely, you know. Somehow. Is that why you won’t leave me alone?”

“Watch it!” He shouts, eyes widening.

Hoseok’s reflexes are faster than yours—he pulls you on his chest as a man nearly knocks you over running, shouting apologies behind him. He looks down at the top of your head, your stiff body curled in his arm. You smell like peaches, a scent he’s smelled before at the parlor, entirely too sweet and fragrant.

You pull away before he can ask how it is possible that you fit perfectly against him, familiar and warm. He can feel his pulse beating in his ears, the blood rushing through his veins.

“Thank you,” you mumble, embarrassed. “That guy came out of nowhere.”

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, sweetheart.”

“Noted.” You breathe in, and hitch your bag high on your shoulder. Then you start walking once again, leaving Hoseok to stare after you.

He shakes his head and follows.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you remind him.

He smirks at that. “I will if you answer one of mine.”

“It’s not a negotiation,” as you maneuver around people, crossing the intersection carefully.

The sky has long set, a bright darkness settled over everything, billboards, and tens of stores beaming like lighthouses, luring everyone in. This area is one that Hoseok knows very well, having walked it thousands of times on his way to school, and work, years before establishing his own business.

“I’m not negotiating.” To his surprise, no comeback from you this time. So, he continued. “Where are you going?”

You laugh, teeth and everything, head falling back as you lose your tempo of walking. You don’t seem to mind, though. Hoseok is aware his question is ridiculous in the grand scheme of things. He doesn’t know you, has barely talked to you, yet is now asking about your plans. The same peculiar feelings stirs in him, the one from earlier.

He’d take you out then, if you allowed him to. Then, he’d tell you his proposition. He’d ease you in, explain all the ways an internship with him would actually benefit your academic career, even put you on the map. He wouldn’t be too proud of his name and what it offers, but would instead lead with the facts, his tone calm but stern, like that of a teacher’s.

Come with me and I’ll show you all I know.

“What do I say to that? Is there anything you want to hear?” You reply amused, after your laughter has died down.

“Yes,” he admits, admiring the bustle of downtown. “I want you to let me take you out.”

When he looks back at your face, you’re very evidently blushing. Still, you don’t give in. A good thing, since Hoseok didn’t think you for the type to do so.

“What if I tell you I have a date?” And you raise a good point, he thinks.

If only he cared for it. “You’ll have more fun with me, doll, I can promise you that much.”

You enter the plaza, restaurants and cafés surrounding you now, all kinds of smells swirling in the crispy winter air. He studies you coming up with a remark to his statement. You look the cutest going up against him. He even considers letting you win; if only so much wasn’t at stake.

“What if it’s with my very handsome high school boyfriend?”

Hoseok grins at that, barely containing his snicker. “Dump him. You’ll grow bored of him soon.”

He could tell you’re just enjoying the banter now. There’s no date, no boyfriend. You might’ve had an appointment, or an engagement to something, but that flew out the window the moment he got a hold of you. It felt nice to be intellectually challenged for once, especially by you, a person he held in high regard after witnessing your work. Your beauty.

“For someone older than me—I thought you were supposed to have my best interest at heart?”

Hoseok decides to end the stroll short, having had enough of your poorly concealed shivering. He guides you inside a close friend’s café, holding the glass door open for you to enter, unable to look away as you pass past him.

“I am a generous man, sweetheart, but even I have limits,” he pulls a chair for you to sit on, choosing one of the tables in front of the window wall. “Your best interest is me,” he leans down to whisper in your ear.

Peaches invade his senses once again, rendering him unable to think of nothing else but you. You, you, you—

It is that very night you follow him to his hotel room.

After your coffee date, he suggested a bistro not too far from where you were, and refused you paying for your share. And even then, you had no intention of leaving, no good excuse as to why you had to go home. Hoseok was—so much fun. No man had ever made you laugh harder, his smart comments and sarcastic remarks only adding to his charm. Your ex held nothing against him, a comparison you couldn’t help making. Eight years between you, though you wouldn’t be able to tell. He followed the flow of your thoughts easily, adapted to your personality, and led the conversation back every time you rambled on.

Your common ground was, of course, fashion. Designing. He mentioned his Atelier only once, something other men would boast endlessly about. He offered to give you a tour, if you were ever interested, and you jumped on the opportunity. It was a designers dream to own an atelier, or even a boutique—it definitely was your dream. And Hoseok was willing to be so kind as to bring you into his own, for you to explore and learn.

He realized you had too much to drink only when your hand wrapped around his bicep, your chair closer than it had been half an hour ago. Did he miss the rejected calls that read ‘Dad’ on your phone? No, he didn’t. He ignored them. Because the intentions he had with you weren’t honest at all, weren’t innocent or honorable—nothing of the sort.

And daddy definitely didn’t need to fucking know or ever find out.

“Where is this going, doll?” Hoseok decided to lay his cards down, wait for your move. The hand you’d deal him back.

You swirled the dark liquid in your glass around, looking at it like it was the most interesting thing on planet Earth. Like it would somehow show you the answer, tell you what you need. Your warmth was intoxicating, unbelievably comforting. It’d been so long since a girl made him feel this way—unable to get a fucking grip. On many things.

“Isn’t this the part where you say something romantic albeit overused and I fall for it?” You ask, your tone cutting through the air between you.

No bullshit. He liked that about you. “What’d make you fall, sweetheart? Tell me and I’ll do it, I have no shame.”

Your wine stained lips curved slightly, the softest smile appearing on your flushed face. He tilted his head better to get a good look at you, and reached out with his thumb to wipe at your mouth. The red lips fell open, seemingly keen on following the digit to find its owner.

Hoseok’s other hand went underneath the table to readjust his hard cock, the time you’ve spend rubbing against him enough to get him fucking impatient and leaking in his boxers. The hold you had over him scared the living hell out of him—he’d either do something about it or leave you alone once and for all. No in between, not when dealing with you.

“There it is,” you mused. “The promise of letting go your inhibitions for me—a tempting bargain, surely I can’t refuse.”

The brown haired man stared at the empty table in front of him, enjoying your head on his shoulder, your hair tickling his neck. He couldn’t help but admire your stubbornness, your calculated answers. He wondered.

“I’ve never pretended to be anything other than what I am, doll. What I want—I’ve put it in simple words, haven’t I?” He whispers to you, an intimate conversation between almost lovers.

“I know what kind of man you are, Hoseok—my daddy has warned me about men like you,” you retort with a hint of bitterness, something that doesn’t slip past him.

He’s all ears. Anything that will explain the mystery of Jung Hoseok. “And what kind of man am I, (Y/N)?”

“Unyielding. A puzzle,” you lift your head, meeting his eyes. “Transparent.”

An adequate answer for what he’d shown you. He could describe himself impressed, even. But then your eyes bared him naked, dug deeper, struck gold—the hidden part, the ugly truth.

“A lonely man, aren’t you?” You continue, voice velvet, angelic. “Sad in the world you’ve created. All artists are, in some way.”

He kisses you. Just grabs your jaw and smashes his lips on yours, arm wrapping around you, melting you onto him. You don’t pull away, don’t yell at him to fuck off, or slap him, call him names. You’re kissing back. A fucking miracle—the miracle he was waiting for, the one he was secretly hoping for. Here. In his arms. Responsive.

He does take you to the hotel. He ravages your mouth the whole way there, and when you’re finally alone, the pretenses fell, whatever was left of them, and the distance was non existent. In all ways.

“An artist needs a muse,” he mutters against your breast. “But you’re not just that, are you, beautiful? You’re a fucking equal, you’re someone I’d give every last penny to have design under me, under my name. Will you accept?”

He tastes like artificial blueberries and mint. He lays you on the bed he’s been sleeping for the past month, and has his way with you. Tears off your tights, and carefully removes the knitted sweater, a piece you created yourself he’ll learn later on, knitting, a hobby your mother used to enjoy before she passed—but for now, you knew only desire, only how much you wanted him, on you, in you, all ways you could have him, and his curls felt nice in between the cracks of your fingers, his tongue felt warm against your cheek, against your lips, against the crevice of your neck.

“You can’t buy me, I’m not for sale,” you tell him sternly.

Hoseok doesn’t waver, doesn’t miss a beat. “Can I have you, then? As mine? Would you take me?”

His hands are everywhere, your body is a forest fire and he’s the match, the lighter, the gasoline, everything all at once, but when they creep between your thighs—oh, it’s a whole different crime. An arsonist, repenting for his sins. He pulls the fabric that’s standing between him and your cunt, and then his long fingers are pushing inside your entrance, your wetness coating his knuckles. He curses, and spits on your slick, continuing his taking, his wish to have you come just like this, before he can feel you on his dick. The sweet thing he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

Your moans fill the dark room in the most delicious way; music to his fucking ears. He wants more, he wants this sound imprinted on his eardrums, to listen to it always, to get haunted by the melody of it, the crescendo of the labored breathing, your soft, broken voice. Sweetest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

“Is this why you wouldn’t leave me alone?” You gasp when his fingers are replaced by something bigger, something harder.

His shirt is half way unbuttoned, his necklace falling against your chest cold, the metal shiny, as he comes face to face with you, eyes boring into yours. He slams inside you in one swift movement, pushes you up towards the headboard with the sheer force of his thrusting. You hold onto him, bring him closer, legs wrapping around his torso, lips pressed on the side of his face. You can see that dark gaze behind your eyelids, the intensity of it as his cock slips past your folds. There is no more holding back, you’re bearing everything to him now. What he wanted.

Your phone buzzes in your bag for the tenth time that night, the hour reading past midnight. You hear it faintly, but for the life of you cannot seem to bother with it. You’re an adult, you remind yourself stubbornly. You can do whatever you like, stay out as long as you please. Get fucked by whoever you want.

“This—” Hoseok buries his head in the crook of your neck, chuckling darkly, breathlessly. “I would risk a lot of fucking things to have this again, sweetheart. Your cunt welcomed me right in, I can’t get fucking enough.”

“Show me,” you whisper to him, arms tightening around him. “If you’re telling me the truth—show me.”

He does. He moves inside you with vigor; like he’s afraid someone’s going to snatch you away, like there’s a time limit to how long he gets to have you like this, unraveled underneath him, for him, like an opened gift—take me, take me, I’m yours, play with me. Hoseok craves your body like a madman, but wants your mind the most. The way it works, the thought process you possess…it’s the sexiest thing about you.

Sweet, beautiful girl. All for me, and this cunt—Christ, this fucking cunt. Let me drown in it, doll, let me have it again and again, and again. Let me…let me take care of you, baby. Come with me. Fuck, you’re driving me crazy. Your hips are meeting every single one of his thrusts halfway, falling into a steady rhythm, slow fucking with sudden, hard strokes, sex you’ve never experienced. It’s intimidating, how he’s staring down at you, like you’re the only thing—like gravity. Without you, there’d be no reason.

Is this what love looked like, perhaps? No. That was the wine talking. You couldn’t, you absolutely couldn’t fall for this man, there was no space for him in your life. And yet… “Fuck!” You fall back against the pillows, too lost in pleasure to think anymore. To hell with thoughts, what good did they do anyway? Hoseok kisses your temple like he senses your inner battle. Then he fucks you hard and fast, mercilessly digging into your sore pussy.

Your phone rings again. He growls; you groan.

“Answer,” he barks, and you’re close. So fucking close, if he’d just move— “Answer him, sweetheart or I fucking will. And no one’s gonna like what I have to say.”

“Hoseok, please, God, please!”

He seizes your thighs and raises your legs, then grabs both ankles in one hand and holds you like that, fucking into you so much deeper, so much better. You’re coming instantly, shaking unstoppably, tears stinging in your eyes. You fist the sheets underneath you, and fucking take it; his cock bruising your insides, the stretch of your hamstrings, the slaps he unleashes on your ass.

“Goddamnit, fuck,” he spills inside you muttering a string of unidentifiable curses, panting over you. “Do you fucking feel this, beautiful? You’re mine now,” he drops your legs, snatching your chin, forcing you to look at him straight in the eye. His face is dead serious. “No one else’s. Mine.” He kisses you once, hard. “Answer. I won’t say it again.”

You scramble to find your purse on the floor. He falls on the bed, breathing labored, hair sticking on his forehead. Hoseok tilts his head to look at you, wants to see the look of embarrassment as you tap on the call to talk to your father, his seed inside you, your cunt no doubt still clenching at the sudden emptiness. If it was up to him, he’d let your precious daddy know about what you were up to, and whisk you away.

“Hey, daddy,” you say, your voice high pitched, straining to sound normal. Hoseok smirks at that. His dick hadn’t even been anywhere near your mouth, and yet you sounded like he face-fucked you for an hour straight. “No, daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” the naked man on the bed scolds you, feeling anger bubble in his chest.

You ignore him, instead trying to find your underwear and the rest of your clothes. You were leaving, he realized and his stomach dropped. At daddy’s beck and call, huh? Hoseok’s pettiness wasn’t his proudest attribute, but it was definitely a strong part of him. Especially when it came to your father. He honest to God couldn’t understand why that military man annoyed him so much. Was it that illogical hold he had over you, a young college woman? There was no reason for you to go home tonight, he thought grimly. And you shouldn’t. Not if he could help it.

“I was with a friend, daddy, and we got carried away—I’ll be right there, okay—Hoseok!”

“Hey, old man, how about you stop terrorizing your daughter, huh?” He pressed the phone against his ear, standing taller than you, your dainty wrist imprisoned in his death grip. You went to pull away, get your phone back—he moved away, glared at you.

The line was dead silent for a moment, aside from even breathing. Hoseok figured he must be gathering his thoughts. Or his fists. “I should’ve known she’d fall for scum like you,” your father’s booming voice tore through the speaker, the calm before the storm. “You’ve no idea what I’m capable of, son, and I suggest you don’t try to find out.”

“Hoseok, please stop, give it back,” you whisper, and a couple angry tears spill on your plumb cheeks. He wants to wipe them away, but he’s overstepping enough. You might hate him even more if he tries to console you.

Despite all this, he doesn’t give in. “With all due respect, I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to,” he retorts, all ice and sharp edges. Unrecognizable, you can’t help but think. Cold and heartless.

“Your daughter is old enough. And she’s with me, safe and sound. I’m keeping her here tonight. As much as she’d like your blessing for this, I could care less for it. Have a goodnight.”

Hoseok doesn’t need to look at your face to know you’re angry at him. He can sense your shaking, but he doesn’t think it’s for justice you feel towards your father. He was rude, obviously; if anything Hoseok was fucking terrible to the only family you seemed to have, and had probably severed all bridges to a good relationship with who he assumed would one day be his in-law. Despite this fact, the deed was done, the choice made.

Anyone that belittles and disrespects you like that is of no importance to him. And the same should go for you, he’d try to teach you if you decided to come with him. He just needed to make you see. But the decision was all yours, something he couldn’t help.

“Why?” You ask, giving up on your fight to free yourself from his hold. “Why’d you do that?”

Hoseok tried to level you with a sharp look. He needed you to calm down, to be able to think straight. Otherwise none of what he was about to tell you would make any sense. First, he needed an ambush—a distraction.

He pulled you into his arms, his hand holding the back of your head in place, your chest against his chest, breath on his neck, heartbeat becoming one with his. He tried to shush you into obedience, rubbing circles on your back, whispering in your hair.

“We’ll play a game of truth now, beautiful. Know you can be honest with me, there’s nothing in the fucking world you can tell me that’ll stop me from pursuing you,” he starts with a steady voice, bracing himself to use all of his strength if necessary.

Keeping you with him was essential, especially after tasting you, having you so completely, so utterly.

“I don’t understand,” you mutter, lost.

“But you will,” he promises. “See, a couple years ago you went for a walk in the middle of the night, next to the river. It was snowing then, too, wasn’t it?”

Hoseok feels you shake your head. He smiled softly, patiently. “I assumed as much,” he continues. “Sweetheart, you kissed me that night. You had a bruise on your cheek, tears in your eyes. Freezing cold,” his tone grew harsher, unwavering gaze deadly at the memories replaying in his mind.

You go to pull back—he doesn’t let you. His cock stands fully erect between you, but he won’t make another move on you tonight. He just wants you to remember, to understand.

“That boy…that was you?” You question, shocked. “It was dark, I’d barely caught your face. Was that really you, Hoseok?” This time there was no holding you back.

Your eyes met. Your glistening ones to his rage filled ones. Rage for what would go unsaid, to the question he wouldn’t dare ask, wouldn’t bring himself to bring up in fear of hurting you further, of embarrassing you more than your father, once again, already has. But his entire journey to find you—it ends here, now, his mystery girl in his arms, finally. It almost felt like destiny, a thing he most definitely believed in. You crossing his path—it was meant to happen.

“Real or not real, baby?” He asks you, vulnerable by all accounts. “You tell me.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. It’s evident you’re still slowly processing the information. Hoseok won’t blame you. “How’d you find me?”

“By chance. I was craving ice cream,” he smirks down at you. You blush. Adorable. “Recognized your eyes, they sparkled in that same way…like stars. Sad, but so fucking beautiful. Then, I found out about your school. Same I attended,” he goes to explain further, seeing your expression change. “I needed to learn more about you, sweetheart, don’t punish me for that. If I knew more, I could get closer to you. But then you kept showing up everywhere I looked, and I realized—I’d find you anywhere, because you seemed to find me first.”

“I need time to think about this, I—” you press the back of your hand against your forehead, sighing incredulously. “Please. Understand,” your gaze rises to meet his own, and he sees.

The hesitation. The intrigue. The fear, no doubt instilled by your father. He nodded, his lips going for your temple, pecking the skin there, hands smoothing your hair back.

“Promise me,” he whispers softly. “If he gives you any trouble, any at all, doll, you call me. Is that clear?”

You don’t reply, but instead—kiss him. Hoseok has no time to react, couldn’t even close his eyes—you kissed him. In light, your head straight. Initiating it first…it made his heart swell, his cock twitch. The girl of his dreams, his sweet, talented girl, showing him she liked him back.

He was gonna die, as soon as you left, no doubt about it. How to stay away from you after that?

“I know how to handle my father, Hoseok,” you tell him later, fully dressed, bag in hand. “You figure out a way to be in the same room as him without wanting to beat his face in. A favor, to me. Please.”

He nods once, jaw clenched. “Won’t make any promises.”

You smile, and the whole world blooms. “Good enough.”

Exhaling blueberry smoke, he waits outside of your apartment, a figure dressed in all black, expensive sunglasses, once again, hiding those indecipherable eyes.

A goddamn tease, is his first thought upon seeing you walk through the lobby doors. Spitting image of him, in a female version and with boots. Would you make it to the restaurant—it was up for debate. God knows it’d been the longest week of his life without you, and Hoseok once prided himself for not having an obsessive personality. All went out the window when it came to you, and fuck it. You were worth it.

“Stop staring, Jung,” you tease, but you seem reserved.

“Fuck no,” he exclaims, but then you stop half a foot away from him, and he has to ask, it’s eating at him. “Why are you—”

Your father shows from behind the same doors, tall and muscular. He’s at least two inches taller than Hoseok, and looks like he’d rather be burning in hell than have to talk to his daughter’s possible boyfriend. The younger man thinks he should just go ahead with the former option, he’ll end up there sooner or later anyway.

You clear your throat, your eyes pleading with him to play nice. He will, for you. But only if your father does the same.

“I wanna make one thing clear to you, kid—”

“I’m no fucking kid,” Hoseok cuts him off sharply.

You sigh, and your father snickers, lips curling in disdain. “What are you doing with my daughter, then?”

“I have a business, a house, a car,” he retorts simply. “Enough money to feed my children’s children. (Y/N) will be comfortable and loved—is that what you want to hear?”

“Are you proposing a marriage, son?”

You paled, reached for a hand to hold. Hoseok didn’t hesitate. Your father followed the movement with his hard eyes, arms crossed over his big chest.

“One day if she so wishes,” he replies. “I’ll do whatever she wants, be whatever she needs. Like I said—I don’t need your blessing. But I realize I cannot shield her completely from you, nor take her away from her only family.”

“You have balls,” the older man admits. Then nods in agreement, no matter how against the idea of you two together he is. You’d made sure he had no other choice but to accept it. “Hurt one fucking hair in her body and I’m coming after you,” he threatens.

Hoseok doesn’t get scared easily, and this time is no different. He understands the importance of this moment in the grand scheme of things, so he goes along with it. The squeeze of your hand in his tells him he’s doing the right thing.

“I’ll let you, you can be sure of that,” he shakes on it firmly.

He’d gladly pretend and say you made it to your reservation, but that’d be a fucking lie. With the way you looked, and the taste of you still vivid in his mind, all he wanted was to trap you under him and have his way with you again.

At first, he saw the way you rubbed your thighs together as he drove to your destination. Filthy little slut and her naughty fucking thoughts. Hoseok even made a show out of it, making sure to flex his forearms, gripping the steering wheel tightly, avoiding your gaze as he focused entirely on the attention you gave him.

“Okay over there, beautiful?”

“Mhmm.”

He smirked, eyes on the road, fingers tapping on the wheel. “Is that so?”

He heard your breath hitch, but your recovery was instant. “It is,” you affirmed, but the truth was louder.

“How about if I told you to touch yourself for me, doll? Would you do that?” He asked sinisterly, throwing a side glance your way.

Your mouth fell open slightly, a sight he fucking loved. He couldn’t wait to bury himself inside that hole, cum all over your pretty face, have you beg to do so. Sex with you was glorious, it ignited something in him that has been asleep for years.

“Open those legs for me, baby. Let me see you.”

“Hoseok…” you trail off, scared—excited.

The curve of his lips deepens. “Do as I say, and you’ll be rewarded.”

Your skirt hikes up your legs as you hesitantly part your thighs, turning in the passenger seat so that he could admire the view. Hoseok turns at once, slowing down at a red light. Black lace panties with a small, pretty ribbon on top, your smooth pussy practically bare for anyone to see. If that skirt were to rise just a little bit higher—his mood darkens just with the thought of someone else witnessing what’s his.

“My girl…such a desperate whore,” he snarls, refusing to touch you. He could see your hips buck towards him, needy for friction, for attention. “Aren’t you? Eager to get fucked by anyone with a cock? Is that why you’re wearing such small fucking skirts all the goddamn time?”

“No,” you shake your head, offended but turned on. He could smell you from miles away, that slick wetness of yours… “I promise, no.”

Hoseok drives again, pressing on the gas harshly. You gasp. He’s insane with need—for you, for what you’re offering so openly. “That’s not what your sweet little pussy is telling me right now. Pull those panties to the side for me, sweetheart, rub that clit for me, I know it’s begging to be touched.”

You do exactly as you’re told, your juices nearly staining the car seat. He had a way with words, a way that made you do anything for him just so you could hear that filth escape his kissable mouth. It turned you on to indescribable extends, you’d turn into anyone for him. Anyone he wanted, no questions asked.

He hears your breathy moans, the wet sound your sloppy cunt made as you slid those fingers along your folds, dragging them up to that small bundle of nerves all the way to the top, and pressing there. Then, moving in circular motions, two fingers, head falling back, broken sounds escaping your desperate body. Hoseok was in hell, split between parking the car on the side of the road and taking you right then or continuing to watch you lose yourself to self pleasure, his gaze and dirty mouth enabling your release closer and closer.

“Christ, you’re insatiable, aren’t you? Acting like you haven’t been fucked in years…such a slut, doll. That’s it, keep going—my beautiful girl, look at that fucking pussy, I just wanna drink it all up, slurp on it until I wipe you clean,” he adjusts the bulge in his jeans, clearing his throat of any hoarseness. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes…”

He makes a left turn, closing his eyes momentarily to get a grip on himself. You were driving him wild, he had no will left to hold him back. No fuck to give if you got caught. He had to have you, had to slip inside you, God the fucking sound! So goddamn wet…

“Go on, baby, stretch yourself out for me, slide those fingers inside that gaping hole, I know how much you need it,” he continues his unbearable verbal teasing, edging not only you but himself, until he absolutely drove both of you to the brink of madness. You had turned into a moaning mess, tears running down your cheeks, one hand gripping the handle of the door as the other worked yourself into oblivion.

“You have me so hard for you, baby, so fucking hard. Put your leg up on the armrest, let me see you. You’ve been begging to get fucked since the moment you walked through that door, beautiful. Real or not real?” He almost doesn’t turn his eyes back on the road on time, breaking hard when another car merges in his lane.

You cry out, the sudden halt digging your digits deeper into your cunt, reaching a spot that almost makes you come right then and there. Hoseok fucks it all to hell, and swerves, pulling behind a parked car, and turning off the engine in the middle of a busy boulevard. He unbuckles his belt, and pulls his rock hard length out, groaning at the freeing sensation. Pumping himself a few times, falling into your rhythm, observing the way your clenching and unclenching around your fingers, honey juices glistening all over your thighs, dripping on his leather seats…

“I have to—fuck, I have to come, I can’t, I can’t—” you mumble between sobs, eyes shut, legs closing as your hand moves harder, sloppier.

“No, the fuck you won’t,” he growls, and pulls your hand away, giving your cunt two good slaps, and earning a whimper from you, before bringing his arms under your ass and lifting to sit you on his lap, positioning you over his shaft.

Your eyes are glazed over, only one thought in your mind, and he’ll make it true for you, he promises you, he pushes your hair away from your sweaty face, and drops his forehead against yours, fingers coming to wrap themselves around your delicate throat. What a fucking vision, all for him to enjoy, to ravish.

“You’re gonna let me finish you off, baby, yeah, I need to feel that sweet release on my dick,” he mutters, and then he slams you down on him, the both of you exhaling, holding onto each other. “I know you can give it to me, c’mon, fuck on me, let me have it, let me have you…” his tone comes down to a faint whisper as you start riding him.

Hoseok can only admire his pretty girl having her way on his cock, can only offer everything he has and hope she accepts it, hope it’s enough—just like that, you’re doing so good for me, doll, I fucking love you, look at you bouncing on my dick like a goddamn slut. Hands grip on your waist, your love handles, your hips, and finally your ass again as he literally moves you on top of him, hard and fast, not giving a damn about the mess he’s making of you.

He could buy you as many outfits as you liked. Or even better, fuck that; he could make you them, anything you liked. Any price, any time. You just had to utter the word, and it’d be considered done.

“I’m the only fucking man who can have you like this, beautiful. Real or not real?” He asks when you finally shake all over, and collapse on his chest, panting and unable to speak. Still, he pushes. He needs to know, needs the reassurance.

When it came to you, he could turn into such a self conscious asshole. Ease his mind, then, tell him once and for all and get it over with.

“Real,” a promise. A beginning. “Real.”

He cups your face and kisses your eyelids, your cheeks, your ear, nose, mouth, neck. You fall into his soft lips, his warm touch. His dark eyes talk only of adoration.

“Come work with me,” he suggests once more. “Any amount you want, it’s yours. Work with me—be with me.”

“Yes,” you smile, exhausted. “Okay.” This time you take initiative, kiss the palm of his hand. His jaw twitches, gaze flashing. “You’re not gonna leave me alone, anyway.”

When Hoseok laughs, it’s spring. It’s flowers blooming, sun beaming down on your face, children playing happily, world peace. It’s home. It’s warm, bright days. It shakes you to your core.

“Not before fucking hell freezes over,” he swears, grinning at you with that thousand watt smile.

You nod, his infectious smile transferring itself onto your face.

“Thought as much.”

994 notes · View notes

astroboots · 2 years

Text

RED FLAGS ║ PART 2

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)

Summary: Something strange is going on with Steven. Or alternatively: how you fix your relationship by giving Steven the sloppiest office blowjob ever.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning/content: unease around male character, inappropriate office behaviour, blowjob, semi-public sex. Please do not attempt to re-enact this, it will land you with HR.

Word Count: 9.3k (guys this was meant to be a short interlude... idek)

Series Masterlist | Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

Something is wrong.

You’re naked in your boyfriend’s bed—the very same bed where he took you apart some hours ago, desperate, worshipful mouth pressed tight between your thighs. But now he’s staring down at you, that very same mouth set in an almost-disdainful line, eyes flat and blank.

It’s like looking in a funhouse mirror and seeing a distorted reflection of reality. So many of the peripheral things are the same but the essence is different somehow. Off in a way that has your heart pounding loud in your ears.

The difference is jarring in the same way that the still-healing wounds on his torso are. Though in this low light, the bruising on his shoulder and the cuts across his chest don’t look nearly as bad as they did when you first saw them. Was it just the shock of their existence that made you think they were worse than they are?

He clears his throat and you realise with a start that you’ve been silently gawking at his chest for the last several minutes. When your eyes fly to his face, you find him poorly suppressing an amused smirk. He’s never looked at you like that before; you weren’t even aware his mouth was physically capable of curving into such a snide expression.

You don’t know what to say to him. To this stranger of a man who has replaced your sweet, awkward Steven. Don’t know what to do with yourself either. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights, covers still clutched to your chest.

His brows draw together, head tilting slightly to the side as he regards you, dark eyes sharp, almost predatory in a way that makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, like an insect pinned to a display board. Your breath stutters in your chest, and a wave of goosebumps raises the hairs along the back of your arms.

Something is wrong, and you want it to stop. And if it won’t stop, you need to leave.

But calmly. Years of experience with drunk blokes in pubs and with overly-handsy coworkers tells you to act normal. Make an excuse. Wouldn’t do to alarm him.

"Is… um… is your insomnia flaring up again? I should go. I… really need to be getting home anyway. Early morning at work, you know." You’re babbling nervously, can’t seem to stop as you start to gather up your clothes. You hurry as much as you can without letting go of the duvet, unwilling to lose the only barrier of protection you have against him.

“I’ll… um… Just let me–” you stammer as you scoop your ruined tights into your handbag and grab your boots. You back prickles uneasily and you have to force yourself not to look over your shoulder and see if he’s still standing there watching you. “I’ll just get dressed and be on my way.”

You don’t look at him or wait for a response. Things in hand and bedding still wrapped firmly around yourself, you scuttle across the flat like a deranged hermit crab, relieved to find that the doorway you spotted is, indeed the loo. You retreat inside, closing the accordion door firmly shut behind you.

Encased in the darkness of the small room, you listen anxiously for any noise from the rest of the flat, but all you can hear is your heart beating loudly in your ears. You fumble blindly with your handbag, pawing through the keys and makeup and all the other odds and ends that seem to accumulate despite your best efforts, cursing yourself for not being more organised.

Finally, after an infinitely long moment of listening to your breathing come faster and faster as you search, your hand closes around your phone, and you yank it free. Your fingers are clumsy as you thumb it open, turning on the flashlight so you can find the pull cord for the bathroom light and tug it down until the room flickers with a jarring glaring brightness.

You squint down at your phone, and the familiar background screen of you and Steven looks back up at you. Something akin to guilt floods your chest when you pull up the Uber app to secure a ride home—ETA: 12 mins. It’s followed immediately by relief.

You need the loo, but you feel too exposed to actually sit down for a pee while starkers. It’s ridiculous really, this isn’t a Hitchcock movie, and logically you know that no one is going to attack you from behind the shower curtain. Still you opt for dressing yourself as quickly as you can.

Fully clothed and with your escape route secured, you feel a tiny bit better, but the tightness in your chest refuses to dissipate fully.

You use the loo and wash your hands. Catching sight of yourself in the tiny mirror above the sink, you run a quick hand over your hair before giving it up as a bad job, less worried about your looks than… than… What is it that you’re worried about anyway?

Standing there staring at your reflection, peaky and fretful under the harsh light, you wrap your arms around yourself and wonder what the bloody hell is going on with you. You’re being ridiculous.

It’s just Steven, right? Your sweet, caring Steven. Except it’s not.

He hasn’t really even done anything untoward, and yet here you are, your heart in your throat, ready to jump out of your skin at the slightest provocation.

He was just so oddly still. Loose and almost... relaxed in a way you’re not used to from Steven.

Maybe that’s it, you tell yourself, trying to pluck up the courage to open the door to the rest of the flat. People sometimes act differently after sex. (Case in point: whatever is going on with you right now.)

Maybe this is just what Steven is like once he finally lets himself relax?

The thought warms you, makes the tightness in your chest relax marginally. But the warmth fades as soon as you open the door to find him standing in the middle of the room, staring at you.

He’s dressed now as well in the well-fitted shirt and dark jacket, so different from his usual oversized clothes. You note absently that it’s a good look on him, but the thought never truly takes hold because you’re too focused on his eyes, just as piercing as before. Another shiver works its way up your spine. This isn’t just your imagination.

Something is wrong with Steven, and everything inside you is screaming that you need to get out of here.

Now.

“I’ll just… um… wait downstairs, shall I?”

He says nothing, and you’re glad, even though that’s wrong too. Steven always offers to walk you, but this time you’re just as happy to be away from him that much sooner.

You’re uncomfortably aware of the weight of his eyes on you as you make your way to the door and start to unfasten the frankly ridiculous number of locks and deadbolts. Even for London this is a bit of an overkill, isn’t it?

Once you finally get the door open, you flash Steven one last wave and a quick, “see you around.” You duck out the door before he can reply, shutting it gently behind you. Resisting the urge to let your head thunk forward against the wood, you turn and head for the lift, still feeling odd about the whole interaction and vaguely on edge.

What was that? Why do you feel more like a witness fleeing a crime scene than a woman bidding a fond goodnight to her boyfriend?

It doesn’t help your nerves that the hallway is dark and empty and one of the lights keeps flickering, lending the whole space an eerie feel. You almost wish you’d asked Steven to walk you down, but you want your Steven, awkward and openly affectionate, not the odd, mostly-silent man you’ve just left behind in his flat.

You reach the lift and punch the call button, prompting a deep hum as the machinery starts to move. You’re staring at the bright red LED light indicating which floor it’s on, willing it to arrive when something grabs hold of your wrist. Hard and unyielding. The persistent grip makes you flinch, jerking your hand back and spinning around to confront… Steven.

He’s right there behind you, looming over you, looking impossibly large and menacing, and your heart hammers in your chest. You take an involuntary step backwards and clutch your bag to your chest. Your back bumps up against something cold, and you nearly shriek before realising you’ve backed into the door of the lift.

God, what is wrong with you tonight!?

It’s just Steven, you tell yourself, willing your rabbiting heart to slow down. (But it’s not. Something inside you is still screaming that this is not your Steven. His eyes are wrong, his stance is wrong, his fucking hair is wrong.)

And you don’t know what you expect (the worst. Oh god, since when have you expected the worst from Steven?) but it isn’t for him to take a step back and hold his hands up in the universal gesture of harmlessness.

Harmless… right. What a laugh. Right now he looks anything but. Except...

He regards you steadily, eyes dark in his too-serious face. He’s still too still, too... much to be your Steven, but...

There’s something about the way he’s giving you space. The way the stillness is deliberate now, controlled. He’s not trying to make himself smaller—not the way Steven always does—but he’s holding himself back. The power obvious in every line of his body is being restrained in an effort to reassure you, and it’s enough to overcome the worst of your irrational fear.

There’s a tilt of his head, as he gives you a nod, one that seems to say, ‘that’s right. You’re okay.’ And as those dark eyes burn into yours, you can almost bring yourself to believe it.

He seems to notice too, something shifting subtly in his face. His lips curve up into a small smile, but even that is wrong… almost condescending. And he tips his head slightly to the right.

It’s then that you notice your cheap watch hanging from his hand, the stupid thing looking tiny and delicate in his thick fingers.

Oh. Oh God. You’ve made a right idiot of yourself, haven't you? Embarrassed warmth floods your cheeks. He must think you’re a complete nutter, overreacting like that over the return of a wristwatch.

Your eyes shift from your watch back to his face, and there's something—the slightest quirk of an eyebrow or maybe the way that one corner of his mouth ticks up higher—that turns the expression cruel, like he’s having a laugh at your expense.

The heat spreads and prickles up over the back of your neck, making your ears burn. You’re not even sure anymore if it's nerves or embarrassment or something else entirely, but it rubs you the wrong way all the same, and annoyance comes to the forefront.

Narrowing your eyes, you send him a look that would ordinarily have Steven withering, but it only seems to amuse the man in front of you.

"Thanks," you tell him flatly, not quite daring to pop off the way you want to. Instead you hesitantly step forward into his space to grab the watch from him. The band pops apart—of course it does—leaving you each holding half of the useless thing, and you have to scramble to grab the other half from his hand under his taunting gaze.

What is wrong with you? What is wrong with Steven!? God, you just want to be done with this and far, far away from here.

Like the answer to your prayers, a loud ding sounds out in the silence, heralding the arrival of the lift.

The doors open behind you, and you back in, unwilling to take your eyes off the man who continues to watch you with the same expression of condescending amusement. Once you’re far enough in, you punch the button for the ground floor, and give him a perfunctory wave as the doors close between you, breathing a sigh of relief once the lift begins to move.

Still, it’s not until you’re safely ensconced in the uber on the way back to your flat that you feel like you can finally take a full breath again. And as soon as you do, doubt floods into you along with it.

What in the bloody hell was that!?

Why did you react that way? Somehow, in the veritable sea of red flags lining the road of your relationship with Steven, nothing else has set you off like this.

The whole thing seems surreal, and the farther from Steven’s flat you get, the less sure you are of what happened. Was he really even behaving oddly? Or were you the odd one for overreacting—practically having kittens over your boyfriend… what? Not fawning over you the way he usually does or nattering on about one of his interests in the middle of the night?

Your logical mind is scrambling for some rational explanation: It’s not outrageous to think Steven might be out of sorts because he couldn’t sleep. Or perhaps you had an unremembered bad dream, and the anxiety bled over into wakefulness. Half two in the morning is not anyone’s best hour.

But the way he looked at you there at the end, like you were nothing to him…

No matter how you try to explain what happened or excuse it away, the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach remains the same. As does the fact that, for a bit there, for whatever reason, you were afraid to be alone with Steven.

And that’s a giant fucking red flag if you’ve ever seen one. One you don’t know if you can get past.

You don’t get any sleep that night, and the entirety of the following workday is a fog. There’s spreadsheets and Team meetings and more spreadsheets, and thank God none of it requires your active brain capacity, because you have none to give today. Your thoughts are entirely preoccupied with last night, and trying to decide what to do about Steven.

The logical part of you votes for cutting your losses and ending things now before you get in too deep. Part of you thinks it’s already too late.

Your phone pings from your bag, and despite your uncertainty and everything that happened last night, your heart still skips excitedly at the thought that it might be Steven. Fishing it out, you unlock it, anticipating a text from Steven; expecting him to be checking in on you the way he always does.

Except, it’s not Steven.

Instead it’s an unsolicited picture of an unimpressive specimen of male genitalia taken under the most unflattering fluorescent bathroom light possible. Definitely not Steven.

Hello, unwanted dick pic #13.

God, this is what you would have to look forward to if you break it off with Steven, isn’t it? A return to the dystopian, post-apocalyptic landscape that is the London dating scene.

You don’t want to go back to unsolicited dick pics; questionable men, who are either lying about their marriage status or their profile picture; and blokes who leer at you like you’re a piece of meat hanging from a hook in the window display of a butcher’s store.

But most of all you don’t want to go back to dating strange random men, because you want to be dating Steven.

You like Steven.

You like his puppy dog eyes, and his awkward adoration, and his enthusiasm. You like the silly texts that he sends you throughout the work day— random photos of cute dogs on the tube or Egyptian artefacts with captions full of lame puns and emojis and the reason why he thought of you.

You like all of it.

You like Steven. You like Steven a lot. Before last night, you might even have said you were falling in lo– (No. No, you’re not going there. Not right now.)

But last night was... not good. Quite bad, in fact, wasn't it? You can admit that now. In the space of that last quarter hour with Steven, he made you feel scared and... and... small. And you don’t know how to deal with that from someone you’re supposed to be able to trust.

Don’t know if you even want to try.

God, you’re a mess.

You shoot yet another glance at the wall clock, but it’s still not half five.

You’ve spent the last several hours counting down the minutes and seconds until you can clock out, but the more you check the time, the more it seems to drag on until you think the hands must be clinging to the face of the clock, slowing time itself just to taunt you.

It takes an eternity and a half but then, finally, the clock ticks over.

You gather up your belongings in a daze and bid your coworkers an absentminded goodbye before wandering off to the lift. You stare at your own reflection, distorted in the metallic sidewall as the lift descends, still fretting about Steven.

Do you want to break up with him? Keep seeing him? How the bloody hell are you supposed to know when you don't even know what it will be like when you see him again?

When the doors open on the ground floor, you can hear that there’s some kind of commotion taking place at reception.

“Sir, I’m going to ask you one final time: Who are you here to see?” The no-nonsense voice booms through the entrance hall of your office building

Susan, the loveable old battle-axe of a receptionist, is giving some poor bloke a hard time again. Nothing unusual there. You can hear her barking out, “If you don’t give me a name right now, you’re going to have to leave. This isn’t a bus stop, alright?”

“Sorry, Sorry.”

Oh God. You recognise that voice.

“I'm not loitering or anything dodgy like that. I'm just waiting for my... girl–uh... lady... um… friend."

Rounding the corner, you see him.

Puppydog Steven has returned. He’s wearing another novelty print button down and a hangdog expression. Back stooped and hunching into himself, he’s standing in front of the receptionist desk, holding a bouquet of roses the size of a carnival prize in front of himself like a shield.

“Steven?”

At your voice, he turns towards you, hunching further over into himself like he’s bracing himself for a blow. As you approach, you can tell he’s nervous and unhappy in a way you haven’t seen since your first date, and your first thought is that something awful must have happened, because of the contrast between last night and now beggars belief.

“This one yours then, love?” Susan asks, still eyeing Steven like he might be about to make off with the electronics.

“Yeah, he’s um… Yeah. Thanks, Susan,” you flash her a placating smile, then turn to Steven.

“Steven, what’s wrong? Why are you—,” but you don’t even get the chance to finish the question before he interrupts you.

“I’m sorry. Oh God, this is why I don’t— Sorry, sorry. I–” The words are disjointed, tripping over each other in his hurry to get them out, but clearly it's some sort of garbled apology. “Look, if I– If I did something last night that made you uncomfortable, I’m– Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

In your peripheral view you can see Susan, working studiously at the corner of the reception desk that offers the best position for her to listen in on your private conversation with Steven. You’re acutely aware of various other onlookers who seem to all have found reasons to loiter in the reception area as well. Unless you want to be the star of the workplace gossip blasted in the office kitchen tomorrow morning, you need to move the two of you somewhere less public, and quickly.

“Susan, can you block off one of the meeting rooms for me?”

She gives you a slightly dubious look, and for a moment you think she’ll refuse. Susan lives for any morsel of gossip to keep her entertained. But to your surprise, she does you a solid without any further prompting.

“Room 10, pet.”

“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.” You flash Susan a grateful smile and make a mental note to get her one of those fancy coffees she likes from the cafe around the corner for brekkie tomorrow.

“C’mon.” You grab the cuff of Steven’s shirt and tug gently.

Steven follows your lead, allowing you to pull him with you down the hallway of conference rooms. Rounding a corner, into a more secluded bit of hallway, you follow the corridor until you reach the last door in the row. The one to the conference room that affords the most privacy.

Swinging the door open, you all but shove Steven inside before closing the door behind the two of you. You flip the lock to ensure there are no unwanted interruptions before turning back to Steven.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he starts again as soon as you’re facing him.

“Steven, Steven. It's alright,” you interrupt, attempting to reassure him, because God, he looks miserable—every inch the cowering puppydog, just waiting for the kick he knows is coming—and you can’t bear for him to look like that. But he just shuts his eyes like looking at you is painful. He shakes his head, the set of his mouth all misery, and then your heart skips a beat when his eyes snap open and lock onto yours with an intensity that’s startlingly reminiscent of the night before.

“I just– Look, I— You’re the best bloody thing I’ve had in my life in a long time—maybe ever—and… and last night was amazing. Better—way better—than anything I could’ve ever imagined.”

He’s so open, so honest, gazing at you with large, pleading eyes. You feel yourself melting despite your earlier indecision on whether you should be done with him, especially when he continues.

“Last night was perfect,” he says with fervent conviction, but then falters and looks down, apparently shy. You feel your heart squeeze at how adoring he is. “At least, I thought so. You were perfect. And I got to fall asleep with you, which was perfect too. But then I woke up and you were gone. And I’m afraid I’ve bollocksed it all up somehow, the way I always do. Good ol' Steven, can't pull a bird to save his life, let alone hold onto one. And it never mattered so much before, but now it does because it’s you, and…”

And he’s still talking, but you’re stuck on one particular part of that word vomit.

He said… he said that he woke up and you were gone. But that’s not right. You know that’s not right. He woke up before you, so clearly you were still there! Does he... not remember?

You almost ask. Almost say so directly, but something holds you back. Some lingering fear prevents you from bringing up your last unnerving middle-of-the-night encounter. An absurd worry that you don’t dare mention that other, wrong Steven for fear of summoning him back.

Instead you interrupt Steven’s rambling to probe gently, “I was gone when you woke up?”

Steven nods.

“Yeah, this morning. Must’ve worn me out ‘cause I slept straight through.” He gives you a small shy smile that fades quickly when you don’t return it. “Was nearly late for work.”

You’re still reeling, your mind stuck on the bit where he doesn’t remember interacting with you in the middle of the night at all. (Maybe the idea of it being not your Steven isn’t so far-fetched after all?) But Steven doesn’t give you any time to consider; he barely even pauses for breath before barrelling on.

“I don’t blame you for leaving, of course, but I can’t help thinking that I must’ve–” he cuts himself off, gaze dropping to the floor like he can’t bear to look at you. “Look, you... you have to know by now. How dodgy my memory is sometimes. Missing dates or showing up on the wrong day and all that, yeah? Sometimes things happen that I don’t remember. I do things that I don’t remember. And I can’t bear–”

He breaks off, swallows hard, and finally looks up to meet your eyes. His gaze is serious and direct in a way that almost reminds you of last night, except that there’s no hint of that dreadful, supercilious amusement.

“I can’t help thinking that I must’ve done something, and I’m– I’m sorry if I– Sorry. I– Just please.” His eyes are huge, round and still so open and honest, and there’s something else there too as he continues, “Please tell me that I didn’t do anything to hurt or upset you.”

Fear. It’s fear you’re seeing in his eyes and written across his face. You recognize it now, and you think your heart might break over how scared he looks. Completely terrified over the idea that he might have hurt or upset you.

“Steven... ” You hesitate, brow furrowing as you trail off, not sure what to say or how to describe what happened last night.

“Oh. I– Oh. I did, didn’t I?” He looks vaguely sick at the idea and starts to back away, the hand holding the roses dropping to his side as he hunches into himself all over again, spewing apologies twice as fast as before. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m– Oh God, what did I do? Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ever– Or would I? Guess I did, didn’t I? God I’m– I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine why I would…”

This whole conversation has been a lot to take in, but Steven is clearly distraught, set to go on self-chastising indefinitely for something that seems to be out of his control. You hate to see him this way—it’s painful to watch his quick descent into misery and self-hatred.

“Steven— Steven!” You try to interrupt his spiral, but he doesn’t even pause. You don’t know what to say to break him out of it, so you stop him the best way you know how.

Surging forward, you grab onto the lapels of his jacket to hold him in place while you press your lips to his. It’s a little awkward—Steven is still talking, mouth open when you make contact, and you misjudged the angle slightly—but it does shut him up rather handily.

His eyes flutter closed and he melts against you with a moan so sweet that you want to tuck it away in a keepsake box and keep it all to yourself. When you pull back a moment later, his eyes are half-lidded and dazed, and he’s wearing an expression like he’s forgotten how to carry out the simple task of breathing.

“It’s alright, Steven,” you soothe him and it is. With him anyway. You’re not sure what’s going on exactly, but you know you lo– that you care about Steven a lot and don’t want to lose him to… whatever it is that happened last night.

He blinks, gaze focusing slightly as he’s coming back to earth. Then he really looks at you. And the dazed confusion is coloured with something akin to hopefulness in those wide eyes.

“So, I didn’t… do anything to hurt you?” Those round, pitch dark eyes are so sincere. So ridiculously vulnerable like he was never introduced to the concept of self-preservation. Steven is the living embodiment of wearing his heart on his sleeves to the point where you worry for him sometimes.

You shake your head no, a smile tugging at your lips at the sight of him, because when that sincerity is pointed in your direction you can’t help the swell of affection in your chest.

And it’s true.

He didn’t do anything to hurt you. You were unsettled at worst, and you’ve got the beginning of a suspicion that somehow it may not even have been Steven you were dealing with last night at all.

“So we’re... um...” he pauses and licks his lips, hesitating, and you try not to get distracted by the way his pink tongue slicks over the swell of his bottom lip, “We’re good then, yeah?”

You nod, smile spreading wider despite yourself. “Yeah. We’re good.”

“You’re... You’re sure?” he presses. He’s still gazing at you with those dark puppydog eyes, uncertainty painted across every line of his face. One stray curl has furled up against his forehead as he bites down onto his bottom lip, worrying the plump flesh.

You reach for him without thinking, wanting to reassure him, and you pull him in to plant another short, chaste kiss against his lips.

Eager for you as always, Steven meets your kiss. Soft, warm lips pressed to yours for a long moment, and then he’s licking into your mouth with a hungry enthusiasm that has your knees ready to go out from under you. His free hand comes up to wrap around your back, and you bury your own hands in his riotous curls as he kisses you hard enough to bend you back over his arm.

Steven’s kisses are always ravenous, but this time in particular, he kisses you like he’s seeking salvation from your lips; like you’re water when he’s dying of thirst, and he’s determined to consume all of you that he can get before you change your mind.

You have to plant your hands on his shoulders, barely managing to pull away from his lips long enough to catch oxygen into your lungs. He releases you with obvious reluctance, and your knees are weak enough that you take a moment to be sure they’ll hold you before you take a step back to look him over, drinking in the sight of him.

Collar askew, curls a frantic mess over his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, just a hint of uncertainty lingering in those big, dark eyes. Fuck, he’s so damned gorgeous.

And okay, yes, you want to reassure him, but you’re certainly not opposed to messing him up a little bit more in the process. Messy is such a good look on him after all.

You sneak a quick glance at the wall clock above—6pm, after office hours.

There may still be some unlucky souls still working upstairs in the office space, but no one is going to be using these ground floor meeting rooms at this hour. No one except you, that is, and you know exactly what you want to do with that privacy.

Grasping Steven’s collar, you tug at it to lead him further into the room.

He follows without resistance, but clumsily, nearly tripping on the carpeted floor. Too busy staring at you to watch his footing. He’s like a puppy learning to walk on a leash, and it’s adorable.

You lead him to the mahogany conference table, and take the bouquet from his unresisting hand, laying it down gently on the table top before pulling out one of the large rolling office chairs. A bit of manoeuvring, and you’ve got Steven standing in front of the chair with his back to the door, just in case.

He gasps when you drop to your knees in front of him, and makes an abortive movement like he meant to catch you by your shoulders but was too slow, leaving his hand hanging there uselessly in midair.

The rough carpet scratches at your skin through your tights, but you keep your attention on Steven as you make quick work of unbuckling his belt.

You can see the moment it dawns on him exactly what your intentions are. His eyes grow comically large, tongue darting out in a nervous fit to lick over the swell of his lower lip.

“Wait, wait. What are you–? There’s people outside. We can’t do this here, can we?” He sounds scandalised, and it makes you want to show him just how scandalous you can be.

“It’s fine,” you tell him, nuzzling at the crotch of his jeans and breathing in the scent of him, before the soft whisper of the metal zipper being lowered fills the room.

“We shou—oh fuck, that feels so…—Shouldn’t be doing this though, should we?”

For all his protesting, Steven is already half hard, the incriminating evidence pressing against the front of his underwear. His throat constricts as he swallows, a nervous reflex.

You still, fingers hooked into the edge of his jeans and underwear, and peer up at him.

“Steven. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” The response is instantaneous, accompanied by a vigorous shaking of his head. “I-I– Don’t stop. Keep… um… keep going, please. If you want to.”

“Good.” You tug down the jeans and pants down over the ample curve of his ass to his thighs in one fluid motion, and his cock springs free from the constraints, rising to slap gently against his stomach.

“Then sit down.” You wrap both hands around his hips and give the gentlest of pushes, but he drops down so forcefully it’s like you’ve tackled him.

He’s so distracted—eyes wide and shell-shocked and glued on you—that he nearly misses the chair, not quite making it square in the seat. The chair wheels squeak noisily, as his momentum sends it rolling backwards away from you.

You blink in disbelief.

"Oh bugger. Sorry, sorry. Let me just...” Steven, clearly mortified, tries to course correct, planting his feet to kick forward, but he miscalculates the trajectory and sends the chair into a spin instead. “Oh god, I'm so sorry."

Giddy relief fills your chest, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in your throat. Dear God, why are things with the two of you always like this? It’s practically a comedy of errors.

Still, if there was any doubt before, it’s definitely gone now. This man—the man in front of you, awkward and fumbling and sweet—is your Steven.

You shake your head and climb to your feet, still smiling as you walk over to him. Planting your hands on the armrests, you force the chair to a stop. Steven’s horrified expression, now inches from your own face, nearly sends you into another fit of giggles.

“Stay,” you order with a fond smile. “Don’t move. Just relax, alright? I’ve got you.”

While Steven is normally very good at taking orders from you, this is one that he entirely fails to follow. His whole body remains tense, fingers flexing as they hover nervously in the air until you take them and guide them to the armrests where they grip and hold on tight.

You drop to your knees again and lean forward until you’re caged in by his spread legs on either side of you. Steven lets out a breathless gasp even though you haven’t so much as touched him yet.

On your knees like this, your face inches away from his cock, you get an up and close personal view that you weren’t privy to the night before. The head is flushed dark pink and it shines slick with the precome that’s beading at the blunt tip.

Even his cock is ridiculously pretty. It’s really not fair.

This close the scent of him is even stronger, clean, with a hint of musk and something altogether Steven. Parting your lips, you ghost your breath over him, relishing the way he practically whines at the sensation, his cock twitching and jerking, more precome welling out to drip down the impressive length of him.

So sensitive, your Steven.

You dart out the tip of your tongue to lap up the runner of liquid. It’s a barely-there touch, but from the sound he makes, you’d think you had punched him square in the solar plexus. The choked-out, pitiful sob makes the blood in your veins sing.

You do it again, just to see if he’ll make the same noise.

He does.

Then again, and he moans, long and breathless, and it shivers through you. Makes you want to see what other sounds you can pull from him. But first you pull back for a moment.

“Shall I continue then?” you ask, pretty sure you know the answer already.

“Yes, please. God yes.” His voice is breathless, desperate, and you can’t help the self-satisfied smile tugging at your lips.

You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and it jumps in your grip, thick and hot and throbbing against your palm. You love how reactive he is. Looking him in the eye, you drag your tongue against your bottom lip to wet it for him. Then without further ado, you wrap your lips around him.

“Shit. Oh bloody–Shit.” His whole body stiffens under the assault of your mouth, and you can feel him pulsing on your tongue.

Closing your eyes, you savour the sounds he makes for you. Keen little noises and punched out gasps like you’re holding him under water and drowning him in sensations until he can barely breathe.

His reactions, the way his cock twitches, the sweet tang of precome on your tongue; it’s all perfect, and your stomach clenches with arousal and the aching need to touch yourself.

It’s tempting, so tempting, to slip a hand under your skirt and indulge in your own pleasure, but you want to stay focused on Steven right now. Want to be able to take in every minute detail of his response to you. So you keep your hands wrapped firmly around the base of him as your mouth inches down, taking as much of him as you can before backing off again to tease him with just the tip of your tongue.

"Oh God, oh God, that feels amazing. You're so--oh fuck--so good at this… I mean why wouldn't you be? I mean... oh God.” He’s babbling. Fingers gripping the armrest so hard that his knuckles have gone ghost-white. “Pleasedon'tstop."

It is, possibly, the world’s worst and most adorable attempt at dirty talking. But it hardly matters. Steven is so responsive to your every touch, so obviously overwhelmed, that it’s impossible to take his words the wrong way. Impossible not to be aroused by his enthusiastic reactions.

When you kiss the tip of him, he keens. When you swirl your tongue, tracing shapes against the sensitive head, he’ll cant his hips upwards, in an attempt to get even deeper. When you grant him exactly that, letting him slide himself deeper into your mouth, his hands fly to your shoulder, fingers flexing there, digging in until they’re just short of painful.

And all the while he’s watching you with awe, gaze locked on you, as though he’s afraid to look away in case you disintegrate under his hands. As though he can hardly believe you’re real.

That look in his eyes makes you burn. Makes you want to do even more for him. To make him feel as good as humanly possible. So you suck and kiss and lick every inch of him you can, your hand wrapped in a tight fist around his slick girth to work what your mouth is unable to.

One large, shaking hand comes up to cup the side of your face, his thumb barely ghosting over the corner of your mouth where it's stretched wide around his cock before moving to your cheek. He rubs small, soothing circles over your cheekbone, gentle even as he's writhing under your mouth. The tender, doting touch sends pleasure skittering down your spine.

Even now, with you on your knees for him, the man is trying so hard to hold back. To be careful with you. His hips barely hitching up to meet your mouth, as you lick and lap at every inch you can.

“God, look at you. You’re so pretty. I can’t believe you’re actually–” He breaks off, gasping, then starts again, barely seeming aware of what he’s saying, “Your mouth feels so good. So fucking pretty, you are. Can you— Can you take me deeper?” Then when you hum an assent around his cock, “Oh God, oh please…”

The words coming out of him aren’t even particularly filthy, but they affect you all the same.

Heat blossoms in your stomach at how wrecked his voice is as he pants out how pretty you look over and over again. You can feel how wet you are—dripping into the already soaked cotton of your knickers. You squeeze your legs together, moaning around his cock when the pressure makes your cunt clench around nothing.

“Oh. You’re–? Fuck. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Steven gasps out, and you pull back far enough to look up at him and shoot him a cheeky wink.

“God, you’re amazing,” he groans, thrusting up into your mouth just once, like he can’t help himself, then stilling. Whatever shyness or uncertainty had him tongue tied just a few minutes ago seems to be gone, and he starts to beg for you to “Touch yourself for me, love. Please. Fuck. Want you to enjoy yourself too. Please.”

Hah. As though you weren’t already enjoying yourself thoroughly.

Still, it’s no great hardship to do as he asks, so you pull off slowly, teasingly, and sit back on your heels to look up at him. Collapsed back in the chair, chest heaving, cheeks flushed and curls in complete disarray as those dark eyes burn down into yours, he looks gorgeously undone.

God, and he says you're the pretty one?

You can’t help but lose yourself in admiring him for a long moment.

Too long of a moment, apparently, because his brows draw together and the light of uncertainty starts to flood those big brown eyes. His hands rise to flutter in the air, a sure sign he’s feeling insecure.

Quickly, before he has a chance to overthink things too much, you make a show of sliding one hand down to cup your breast. Between your office clothes and sensible bra, you don’t get much out of it, but you’ve certainly captured Steven’s attention.

He looks utterly gobsmacked, mouth hanging open, and his eyes remain glued to your hand as it continues its descent down your body, and up under your skirt. His swollen, shiny cock jerking and leaking precome in an entirely gratifying manner.

You press a hand between your thighs over your clothes and gasp when even that muted pressure sends pleasure streaking through you. There’s an awkward moment as you scramble for the edge of your tights, and manage to drag them down far enough to wedge your hand under and into your knickers.

The angle is cramped and uncomfortable, but so, so worth it to be able to rub slippery little circles over your clit. Fuck, you’re already so wet, and you can’t help but moan as you feel wetness leaking down between your thighs every time your cunt clenches.

“Oh my days,” Steven breathes, eyes as wide as you’ve ever seen them as his gaze flits between your face and the hand buried beneath your skirt. He seems to have forgotten about his own arousal entirely, totally focused on you.

And, well, that just won’t do.

When he looks up at your face again, you catch his gaze and send him a naughty smile before ducking forward and taking his cock in your mouth again.

Steven lets out a gasping moan that sounds like it’s torn from his very soul, and this time his hips rise to meet you, no longer holding back. He’s all instincts and hunger now, and you’re reminded of the Steven who took control from you last night and drove you to three orgasms so intense that they left your legs numb in their wake.

His cock fills your mouth perfectly, and it’s almost too much. You struggle for a moment to fit all of him, but then the two of you find a rhythm between you that lets you take him deep without choking.

You rock your hips against your hand in time with his thrusts, and the muscles of your forearm ache as you chase your pleasure. It feels so good that you keep forgetting to time your breathing, but fuck, you barely care. Can’t help but love the burn of it down to your lungs. The taste of him, bittersweet and tangy on your tongue, is intoxicating and you could easily get addicted to this. To the uninhibited sounds he’s making at your touch and the taste and smell of him.

You’re overwhelmed, surrounded by him, head swimming with it. Or perhaps it’s the lack of air that has reality going a bit woozy around the edges as you match each roll of his hips into your waiting mouth with a roll of yours rocking against your hand. Your world narrows down to his cock in your mouth, his voice in your ears, and the devastating ebb of pleasure pours through you, building higher with each advance and retreat.

It’s too much and just the right amount because suddenly you’re there, right on the edge. Don’t realise that you’re moaning until the sound cuts off when you shove forward, desperate to take Steven as deep as possible. You roll your hips down one last time, pressing hard against your clit, and that’s all it takes.

You come hard, white hot bliss surging through you as you convulse on the floor of an empty conference room, Steven’s cock lodged as deep in your throat as you can take him.

Dimly you hear Steven’s shocked “Oh Lord, are you—? Oh my God!” and then a broken, breathy litany of “Oh God oh God oh God,” but it hardly registers.

You hold there as long as you can, until your lungs burn and the muscles of your arm threaten to cramp and you’ve wrung every last drop out of pleasure you can out of your orgasm.

Finally, shuddering with overstimulation, you have to pull back. Pulling your slick hand out of your underclothes, you flex your aching fingers, chest heaving as you suck in a long overdue breath and then another.

“Oh God, oh God, don’t stop.” The head of Steven’s slippery, wet cock glances off your equally slick lips as his hips rise to chase your mouth, “Pleasepleaseplease– I need– Fuck. Please don’t stop.”

His cock is twitching in your hand in protest from the sudden lack of attention. The length of it is dripping from your spit, precome flowing from the fat tip as if it’s drooling, glistening under the ceiling light.

You can’t help the shudder that works its way through you when your oversensitive cunt clenches at the depraved sight.

If your goal was to make a mess of him you’ve certainly succeeded.

To buy yourself time to catch your breath, you press saliva-slick kisses along his hardened length, relishing the way Steven descends completely into incoherence.

Half sentences and broken off words, begging for your mouth. It’s a far cry from the man who was all shy nerves, and worried about people being outside not so very long ago.

And you love it. You love it all.

The sounds he’s making are intoxicating. You want desperately to hear how loud he can get, but there’s a little voice in the back of your head warning that this is not the place to let the volume become an issue.

There shouldn’t be anyone down by this hallway, but the way that Steven is carrying on, you worry the sound will carry far enough that your co-workers on the floor above, still in their offices, will be able to hear you two.

“Steven,” you murmur, pressing another kiss to the fat tip of him, “I need you to keep quiet for me.”

You tilt your head until you can sneak a glance at him. How utterly ruined he looks, chest heaving, rising and falling in tides, eyes dazed, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can’t help but smile, fluttering your eyelashes for his attention as you lap up the precome oozing down his cock with little kitten licks, savouring the way he shivers violently below you.

You know you’re being mean. He’s so overwhelmed that he looks like he is going to jump out of his skin, but you can’t resist as you continue to tease him.

“You don’t want me to have to stop, now do you?”

He whines at that, and if you had the luxury of time and privacy, you’d scold him again, drag out your fun and tease him just a tiny bit more.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Steven begs so prettily, shuddering below you as he stutters out, “I—I’ll be good. Quiet, I promise. Please, please don’t stop.”

“Good,” you say, then you lean down again and take him back into your mouth.

His hand flies up to his mouth, and he clamps a wide palm over it in a desperate attempt to quiet himself. It helps some, but you can still hear the muffled groan that rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest.

Your previous established rhythm falls apart.

His hips stutter into a staccato pace as he thrusts into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get deeper. The telltale sign of his sharp jaw tensing, the small muscle there flexing. Those gorgeous doe eyes roll to the back of his head, his face awash in pleasure.

God, he’s fucking beautiful like this. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him.

From the way his thighs are trembling, you know he must be teetering on the edge even before he warns you with a hoarse and broken, “Close. I—I’m close.”

You hum, and the vibration makes him hiss like you’ve burnt him. His hands come to frame your face, attempting to gently pry you off of him.

You let him pull you away just long enough to form words, hands still wrapped around him to replace the momentum with firm strokes to keep him on the edge, as he twitches and jerks in your palm.

“Do you want to come in my mouth, Steven?”

He shivers, his eyes are shut tight, and for a moment you aren’t sure if he heard you at all. But then he nods forcefully, choking out a rough, “Fuck. You can’t just– God. Yeah. Yes. Fuck. Please,” that has the tip of your ears tingling.

God, he sounds ruined.

He also sounds loud, and he isn’t stopping.

“Steven.” Your voice is flat, cutting through his desperate rambling. “Shut it.”

A strangled moan tears out of him at your command, and somehow the suppressed noises he’s making are even louder than when he was babbling.

In a sudden fit of inspiration, you shove the fingers of your other hand, still sticky with your slick into his mouth. His tongue drags against you, and he gasps around the intruding digits. At the same time, you lean down to take him as deep as he goes, swallowing down the urge to gag when he hits the back of your throat. His body goes rigid, throwing his head back and baring his long graceful throat to you with a muffled groan. He suckles at your fingers, mouth hot against your sticky skin, and you can feel it the moment that he comes. His cock pulsing warm and thick against your tongue, as he floods your mouth, tangy and slightly bitter.

It’s quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced, and it makes you want to drag out that pleasure for him and ruin him even more.

You hold him in your mouth, tongue lavishing at the stiff underside of his cock, your own fingers pressing against his tongue as he writhes underneath you. You don’t let up, drawing things out until his thighs are shaking violently beneath you and you’re sure that the overstimulation must be bordering on the painful.

Only then do you pull away, sitting back to take in the sight of Steven. Rosy-flushed cheeks, and half-lidded eyes boring into you. He’s staring down at you like you’ve hung the stars and moon in the night lit sky one by one.

All of a sudden, you find yourself feeling almost shy under that loving gaze. Flustered at the adoring attention from him. You feel silly to be the object of that devotion, while you’re still on your knees, knickers and chin equally sticky, and the remnants of his come still lingering on your tongue.

You don’t know what to say or do next, but it doesn’t matter.

Before you can even try to figure it out, Steven surges forward, dropping down to his knees in front of you and closing the distance between you to crash his lips against yours. He licks into your mouth with frantic desperation, apparently uncaring that you still taste of his come.

You can taste yourself in his mouth as well, as Steven devours your mouth with a hungry fervour that you’ve come to associate with his touch.

It’s sweet; it’s depraved; it’s ravenous.

It’s all the contradictions of Steven himself wrapped into a kiss. And for better or worse, it’s something you’re not sure you can live without anymore.

Eventually he slows in his pace, until the one kiss dissolves into many, syrupy and languid in a way that makes the air around you thin. And then...

“God, I love you.” He sighs the words gently into your mouth, so blissful and contented that it takes a moment for you to realise what was said.

You stiffen in his arms as his words fully register with you. Pulling away, you draw back enough to see Steven’s face, not entirely sure if you heard him right until you see the complete adoration in his eyes.

Oh. Oh wow, he really does mean that doesn’t he?

The expression on your face must betray how stunned you are by his confession, because Steven’s brows draw together in concern and he immediately starts apologising.

“Sorry. Should I… um. Should I not have said that? Not the most romantic moment, is it? Course it’s not. Confessing after you– you–” he stutters, clearly flustered. “Well, after that.” He flinches, face flushing bright red, and mutters, “God, I sound like a right bloody wanker, don’t I?”

He’s right.

This was hardly the perfect time, or a particularly romantic one. And he does sound like a bit of a wanker.

Your eyes meet, and he flinches, eyes worried and voice hesitant, as if he did something grievously wrong to offend you.

“Did I make you uncomfortable? I did, didn’t I?” He drops his gaze, as though he thinks he’s committed some grievous wrong to offend you. “I’m sorry, we can pretend I never said it if that’s what you want.” It clearly pains him to make the suggestion, but he makes it anyway. “I don’t– I don’t want to lose you.”

That’s the thing with Steven.

He's all in.

Whatever else he has going on, Steven’s never been half-hearted about this, about you.

He doesn’t time his moments or play tactics to win you over. Whether it’s bravery or stupidity, you can’t tell, but he’s always been open and vulnerable with his feelings, even that very first night at the restaurant, when his eyes lit up at the sight of you. They’ve always been right there on his sleeve.

And right now it’s clear to see that he’s en route to having a complete nervous breakdown if you leave him hanging any longer without an answer.

You’ve known for a while that you liked Steven, had feelings for him, and now there’s not a single doubt in your mind about how deep those feelings go.

“I love you too.”

He looks up at you timidly from underneath those thick eyelashes with shock that’s shading into careful, dawning hope. His mouth opens as if to speak, but then he hesitates for a long moment, jaw working, like he’s too scared to ask you to repeat it in case he misheard or you’re playing a practical joke on him.

“Yeah?” he asks eventually, voice whisper-soft.

You don’t answer him with words.

Instead you nod, pulling him close until you can kiss him again. Removing any lingering doubt that still might remain—for both of you. Whatever yesterday night was, you meant every one of those three little words, and want to stay to figure it out.

It’s you and Steven, red flags be damned.

~ Continue ~

Dedication and Credits

To the city of London itself, can you dedicate a city? No? I'm doing it anyway. I'm finally home after 2.5 years of being away and I miss her so. Love of my fucking life.

@thirstworldproblemss my love, my best friend, my soul twin, clown sister. Thank you for being with me literally every single day the past year and almost a half in my pocket, on good days, on bad days, and on the boring-nothing-special days. You've kept me going all this time, and the best part of my gloomy days would be waiting for you to wake up half across the world and start our nonsense for the day. My life is all the better because you're in it. Thank you for keeping me intact and in one piece all this time.

@frannyzooey the kindest, most talented, and most supportive person. You are so loved and truly one of a kind. You give so much of yourself wanting nothing in return and your presence is my life is such a gift. Thank you for always being there with a kind word when I was about to blow my freaking casket in the last year and a half. For talking me down, for being a pillar of calm and reason when I felt like dousing things down with gasoline and setting it on fire. Thank you for being you, I cannot wait to spam you with a million food photos from this day on, that's my promise to you.

@jazzelsaur for your beautiful, curly avocado toast hair that smells like delicious onions. I love you, your baby whore 🥑🧅

@radiowallet with your brilliant big mind. For you love of the comic and nerdy. For being so absolutely fucking wonderful and supportive and kind in a word that is anything but on some days.

@the-ginger-hedge-witch this is not a dedication. This is a call out, remember when you tried to character assassinate Brendan Fraser? Pepperidge Farm remembers. P.S. I love you dearly

3K notes · View notes