#if you read this and turn around to say that all space travel is a waste of money and a disservice to the tax payer however. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freedomfireflies · 3 months

Text

Insatiable You*

Summary: The second part to Infinite You*

The one where Harry wants to know more about these smutty books you read. And maybe have a bit of fun, too.

Word Count: 5.8k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, spitting, Sir Kink

“Begin.”

“Harry—”

“Begin,” he repeats. Stern. Final. “I’m not gonna ask you again, Kitten. This is what we agreed on, yeah? Said you would. So go.”

Your hands shake as you hold the book against your chest. You nod quickly, eager to please him, and you feel relieved when he smiles.

You open the novel and flip to the bookmarked page. You can feel him watching you from his place between your legs and you attempt to cover your face with the pages before he’s quickly—and easily—pushing the book back down.

He gives you a certain look that makes you swallow, and you nod again.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“S’okay,” he says. He’s trying not to smile. “But I wanna see you. You know that.”

You swallow for a second time and flick your attention back to the page. “So…just…anywhere?”

He hums. “Anywhere.”

You straighten up and clear your throat. “Damien was quiet as he entered Elizabeth’s bedroom. He could see her laid out in wait. Her familiar silhouette illuminated in the gentle light of the moon. He’d know her anywhere.”

You glance at Harry. He’s smirking. Intrigued. And you feel your cheeks warm as you look back to the story. Even if it’s not inherently smutty yet, you know it’s coming.

“He walked closer, careful not to disturb her peace as he made his way into her space. Pulling the soft blanket away from her hips to reveal the silk nightgown underneath.” You take a deep breath. You feel Harry squeeze your ankle. “He…he could see her glistening cunt beneath the sheer fabric. She’d been waiting for him. Working herself up in anticipation for his return. So it would be easier for him to take her once he arrived.”

As you read, you feel Harry’s fingers travel up the length of your leg and toward the large shirt resting around your hips. He pulls it back to reveal your glistening pussy. Equally as worked up as the one in the story.

You hesitate, embarrassed and enamored, before he nods once to reassure you. He’s far too amused to let you stop now. After all, this was your deal. You would read, he would reenact.

Your insides twist as you continue. “She stirred the moment his cold fingertips made contact with her warm skin. Still, he was gentle. He stroked and he pulled and he situated her where he wanted her. She was good. Quiet. Allowing herself to be moved without so much as a whimper.”

In turn, Harry’s large hands tighten around your hips. Tugging you away from the headboard and closer to his face. You gasp and clutch the book as though it’ll save you, but nothing can save you now.

“Go,” he murmurs and it’s anxious. He knows what’s coming and he knows he can’t begin until Damien does.

You continue. “Her body greeted him the way it always did. It was warm to the touch and seemed to call to him like a siren. Luring him closer until he had no choice but to take a taste.”

Harry scoots closer. Ready.

“His tongue flattened against her and he savored her need until he was short of breath. Licking and nipping at her until she awoke and cried out his name—”

However, you lose the rest the moment Harry’s tongue drags up your cunt and settles against your clit. And you decide that this is much better than reading alone because this is infinitely more vivid than the image in your head. Better than Damien, better than your own hand, better than a toy.

And Harry is beautiful. With his sharp, strong jaw that somehow looks sharper with the way he mouths at you. With his curls that are falling against his forehead and with the muscles that flex whenever he tightens his hold on your legs.

You drop the book onto your stomach and whimper, “Harry—”

He stops. Looks up.

“Sir,” you correct quickly. “Sir, please—”

“Keep reading,” he nearly grunts. He juts his chin toward the novel. “Go.”

Your fingers are trembling as you lift the book back up. He expects too much of you when his tongue is lapping at your body the way it is. “He did not waver. She was sensitive from whatever ministrations she had practiced before he arrived, but he carried on. He pulled…he pulled her clit between his teeth and gave her something to cry about.”

Harry follows suit and your eyes roll back. He’s perfect, considering he’s only done this once before. But he knows how to treat you, how to touch you, how to taste you. Better than anyone ever has. He’s insatiable and determined.

“He swallowed her down like a man dying of thirst,” you read through strained, shallow breaths. “She was his vixen. His wet, perfect little dream. Already pulling him closer by her warmth—shit—”

He smacks your thigh. Wrong. You keep reading.

“She pulled his hair and brought him closer. She lived within his lungs. He didn’t want the air she hadn’t touched. He wanted every drop that was wasted on the sheets below. The drops that belonged to him. Because her taste belonged to him. Always.”

Harry’s fingers curl around the backs of your thighs before he lifts them up. Creating more room and space for him to work. And he does. He takes and he groans and he licks a stripe from your ass to your clit. More intimate than you were expecting and you gasp before the book drops.

“No,” he seethes against your pussy. He licks harder, sucks faster. “Keep going.”

“Harry—”

“Go.”

You can hardly see the words through the haze in your eye. They’re melting off the page, blurring together. Still, you try. You obey. “Damien teased her with his finger. He knew she could take him, but he needed to hear her beg.”

In turn, the tip of Harry’s finger begins to smooth through the wet folds beneath his tongue. The sensation is overwhelming and you feel yourself clench at the very thought of him sliding inside. The anticipation almost dreadful.

But he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes find yours. “Beg me.”

Your breath catches. “Harry—”

He slaps your clit. Hard. “Beg me,” he repeats. “Fucking beg me, baby. Beg me to touch you. Beg me to stretch you. Beg me to fuck this cute little hole until you’re coming all down my hand.”

You clutch the paperback novel so hard, you feel it dent. “Harry—”

“Sir,” he corrects sharply. There’s something virile in his eye. A step past insatiable. Depraved. Like a wild animal with his prey.

And you aren’t afraid. You aren’t embarrassed or ashamed. Because you understand this hunger. It's the same hunger you felt after days of not being with him. Of knowing he was with Rebecca while you were alone with your pillow. Knowing he fell asleep in her arms instead of yours.

It's not just some itch you need scratched. It's him. His technique, his aurora, his presence. Mind, body, soul. Him. Nobody else will ever do it for you the way he can. Not even Damien.

“Beg me,” he repeats from below, ravenous attention locked on you. “Beg me, Kitten…and I’ll give it to you.”

You hold the book in one hand and his curls in the other. “Please,” you exhale. It’s airy and faint, but filled with a kind of desperation you know he understands. “Please, Sir. Please touch me. Please…it hurts.”

He hums and swipes his tongue over your clit. Teasingly. Temptingly. He thinks. “Does it?”

You nod quickly. “Anytime I’m not with you, it hurts. Please…nobody else can fix it.”

There’s a soft smile on his glistening lips. One you almost don’t catch through the tears in your lashes. “Nobody, hm?”

You shake your head.

“Have you been trying to find somebody else, Kitten?” He nips at you again. “Have you been going around, trying to give away what’s mine?”

Your eyes widen and your skin warms. You hate how much you love the possessive undertone. Even if he doesn’t mean it. “Never.”

He looks back up. “Do you promise?”

You swallow. You do promise, even though the truth is…you aren’t his. And you don’t imagine you ever will be. Still, you whisper, “I promise.”

And you mean it. More than anything.

Satisfied, the tip of his finger begins to push you open. Stretching the warm, quivering walls that are anxious to draw him in, effortlessly easing the ache in your stomach.

You let out a relieved sigh that makes him smirk and you adore his smugness. More than you should.

“Keep reading,” he repeats yet again while thrusting his finger in and out at a deviously slow pace.

The book shakes as it’s brought back up. “She…she pulled his hair and whispered his name. And he’d never heard something so beautiful. Her mouth was good for many things, but moaning his name was perhaps Damien’s favorite.”

Harry kisses everywhere he can. Your cunt, your thighs, your hip. Pulling at the skin and sucking it until it’s bright red and swollen before soothing it gently with his tongue.

“She was trembling beneath him,” you read. “She was sensitive and ready to give him her second orgasm. And he was ready to take it—”

“And are you ready, baby?” Harry says to you now. His grin is mischievous as he awaits your response. Because he knows you are. Knows that you were a good girl, that you did your homework and obeyed his instruction. That you touched yourself before he arrived, exactly like Elizabeth had.

You let out an unsteady breath and nod once. “Yes.”

“Good. Keep going."

You go back to your novel. “When she came, she was loud. Her naked body gleamed beneath her nightgown, covered in those dewy beads of sweat that made his mouth water. He wanted to run his tongue up and down every inch of her. To taste her, fully. To have her inside of him the way he was desperate to be inside her.”

Harry suddenly crawls up your body and begins to drag his tongue along your shaky stomach. A trail of saliva follows in the wake of his mouth and you can’t help but whimper as you watch him move toward your chest.

“Read,” he murmurs against your left tit, leaving you no choice but to oblige.

“When the light found her eyes, he saw what she really wanted,” you continue. “She pulled on him again and pleaded, ‘Damien, please. I can’t wait.’ So, he took himself from her swollen cunt and pressed his mouth to hers. He gave her a taste of herself and she swallowed it all, gladly—”

And before you can even ready yourself, Harry is taking your lips with his and sucking. Biting. Having. Feeding that hunger until you melt beneath him. Giving you the same taste Damien gave Elizabeth.

His tongue feels good against yours and the sensation is unfathomable. But not because of you...because of him.

He knows you can’t read very well like this, but he doesn’t mind. He draws back and holds your jaw in his palm until you open your mouth in acceptance. And then…he spits. Right down your throat, as though every drop belongs to you.

And you swallow it all. Gladly.

His kisses eventually move back down before he instructs you to finish the scene. And you struggle your way through it, despite how anxious you are to reach the end. “Her pussy welcomed him in and it felt like coming home. He held her throat in his hand and whispered, ‘Tell me, my love. Tell me what you did while I was away. Tell me exactly how you touched yourself as you waited.’”

You feel Harry nudge his nose underneath your chin before he says, “Go on, baby. Tell me.”

You close your eyes and allow the memory to find you. “I thought of you,” you tell him softly. Quietly. You’re embarrassed again and you don’t know why. “Thought of how you knew what I was doing while I did it.”

You feel him smile against your throat.

“Thought about what you told me to do,” you continue. “How…how you told me to take good care of your pussy until you got here.”

He hums and it seems to vibrate through the fingers still pumping inside your cunt. “And you did, didn’t you?”

You nod wordlessly.

“Tell me how.”

Another mesmerized inhale. “I was here,” you whisper. The noise he makes this time is greedier. “I was here and I…I remembered how you looked last time. I thought of you, and I…I tried to do what you would do.”

He grins a bit wider and it makes your chest swell. “Is that right, Kitten?”

“Mhm.” You clutch the book to keep from writhing. “And I moaned your name when I came. Knew I couldn’t come for anybody else. Didn’t want to.”

He nuzzles his face in your shoulder and groans. “God, you’re gonna fucking kill me, baby. You know that? My ego’s already too big.”

“Maybe,” you laugh breathlessly. “But it should be. You’re so good, Harry. Couldn’t wait to see you. Think I came just picturing you walking through my door.”

He leans back now and your heart drops. Perhaps that was a bit too honest. Too intimate. Especially considering that he’s still not yours to have.

He studies you a moment and you wait. Timidly. Preparing yourself for the disappointment that might follow his reply.

Then, he dips down, and nuzzles his nose against yours. “You’re too good to me,” he exhales. It sounds heavy. Scared. Sweet. “I don’t deserve you, Kitten. I hope you know that.”

You drop the book and take hold of the curls against the back of his neck. You squeeze them tight in your fist as you shake your head. You hate the resolve in his voice. “That’s not true. I’m just…here. I’m just me. You’re the one going out of your way to help me.”

Another smile but it’s softer. Sadder. “I think you’re helping me more than I’m helping you.”

You lift up and kiss him. “We’re helping each other,” you decide. “For as long as we can.”

When he kisses you back, you feel limitless. “Good.” He smacks his other hand against the outside of your leg. “Now, finish the chapter. We’re just getting to the good bit.”

You nearly whine but you do obey. Flipping through the pages until you find where you last left off. “Elizabeth looked at him, unabashedly. ‘What would you have liked me to do?’ she asked. Her voice was a silky purr. ‘How would you have liked me to touch myself without you? Would you have liked me to be soft and tender? Or would you have liked me to be just as hard and relentless as you?’”

Harry listens carefully, kissing a trail along down your chest while his fingers begin to work you closer. He knows you’re only moments away. Somehow, he always knows.

“‘Would you have preferred that I soak our sheets? Would you have liked to see the aftermath of my lust for you?’ She dragged her nails down his back. ‘Or do you like to know that I cannot touch myself the way you touch me? That my body does not respond to my hand the way it does yours?’”

Suddenly, he adds a third finger and your mouth instantly drops open. It starts to unravel before you can stop it and when he thrusts to the knuckle, you see those stars again. The same stars that brought him to you.

“Harry,” you gasp. You clutch his hair and his tongue dives forward. “Shit, Harry, wait—”

You come but he doesn’t stop. Damien might have, but Harry is most certainly not Damien. He flicks and sucks and pumps until you begin to cry. Until your legs are shaking on either side of his head and you’ve nearly yanked the curls from his skull.

Still, he pushes you toward a second—or rather, a third. And it’s far too quick for your liking.

“Har…shit, Harry, please—” You squirm and you fight against the almost painful pleasure radiating between your legs. “Hurts…hurts, Harry, please—”

“Don’t care,” you vaguely hear him murmur before he’s nipping at your clit again. “Again.”

Your cheeks are soaked and your fingers move from his curls to the bed beneath. You clutch the sheets and arch from the mattress, but he shoves you back down.

“Again,” he says. He slaps your pussy and you mewl. “You’ve done it before. Know you can do it again. Be good for me, come on. Be fucking good.”

And it’s almost sinister but it works. You come for a third time and your body feels wrecked. Ruined. Spent. You lose yourself in the sensation and by the time you find yourself again, he’s pulling his cock out and lining himself up.

“Read,” he demands next. He nods at the book. He’s determined to see this through. “Go. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Told me you used to fuck yourself to these books, so I wanna fuck you to them, too. Wanna show you how much better the real thing is. So fucking read it, baby.”

You mindlessly reach for the novel beside you and drag it back open. You know he’s right and you plan to rush through the rest of the chapter so you can throw the book away and never open it again.

“When he pushes in, his breath becomes hers,” you whisper. “Her cunt accepts his cock and molds to it. And he knows, undoubtedly, that her pussy was made for him. That she was sewn together in the heavens and left on his lap for such a purpose. Because no one would ever be able to please her the way Damien could. No other man could even try. She was made for him. To be loved by him. To be fucked by him. To live and die for him. They were one.”

Harry waits for you to finish the thought before he finally pushes forward, the tip of his large head disappearing between your folds.

He braces himself against your hips and your lungs nearly give out. And he watches. He watches every fucking second of the way his cock stretches you open. Curses when he sees the way you accept him. Grits his teeth and fists your skin until he’s completely bottomed out.

And then…he kisses you.

Long and slow and it almost feels grateful. Like he’s thanking you for letting him inside and you sigh against his mouth.

Then, the book is suddenly snatched from your hand and chucked across the room before he kisses you harder. He growls, “Enough. You don’t come for him anymore. You fucking come for me. Is that understood?”

You whine his name but it’s not enough.

“Is that fucking understood?” he repeats louder. “You are not to pick up that goddamn book as long as you’re mine, do you hear me? You will not touch yourself to another man’s words or soak these fucking sheets for anybody else but me.”

And even if Harry isn’t a possessive man by nature, you thrive off the instruction. The threat—the demand. You imagine he doesn’t truly mean it, nor would he be that cross with you if you were to do it again.

But it fits the scene and you want to be perfect for him. “I understand,” you whimper. You bite your lip but he bites it harder. “Though, technically…it was written by a woman.”

You like to think he’d laugh if it were any other time. Today, however, he merely yanks himself out of your pussy and flips you around.

You’re on your stomach and spread before you can catch your breath. And you feel him push back in without a moment’s hesitation while his hand comes down in a firm smack to your ass.

You cry out his name and nuzzle your cheek against the bed. You miss being able to see him, but you happen to adore this side of him, too.

“Did I fucking ask?” he hisses before spanking you again. You feel your skin grow hot where his hand lands and somehow, it brings you even closer to release. “Huh? I don’t fucking care who wrote it. It is no longer yours to read. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you say again. “I do, Sir. I promise.”

He kneads the tender flesh in his palm before mumbling, “Good girl. Now, are you gonna take my cock, Kitten? You gonna let me show you how a real man does it?”

Thankfully, your fervent nod is answer enough and with that, he begins a harsh, unforgiving pace that turns your insides to jello.

The bed shakes and your body shakes and this is fucking. The kind you’ve only ever seen in porn and you are so incredibly present in this moment with him. You drink in every detail, the way he holds your body, the way he fucks into your pussy, the way it sounds when he slips.

His hips feel good against your ass and his soft grunts are euphoric. A few rendezvous aren’t enough, you realize. You thought you were addicted before but now…

You don’t think it’s fair that he doesn’t have to share you, but you have to share him. And you can’t hide the pout that forms on your lips at the very thought of him leaving you—leaving your warmth—to go find it with someone else.

And you know he’s not like that. You know he’s not actively with anybody else but you…and occasionally Rebecca. Still, the chance is there. The offer is his for the taking, should he decide to take it.

When you go quiet, he weaves his fingers through your hair. “Baby, what’s wrong?” It’s still gruff the way he speaks but laced with tender concern. The kind you’re used to from him.

You replace the pout with a small smile. “Nothing, Sir. I promise.”

“Would you like to take a break? Or change colors?”

You shake your head. “No. I promise.”

He slows his thrusts. “Are you thinking again?” he asks gently. “Did I lose you to those ugly thoughts?”

You could almost cry from the way he notices. The way he cares. Still, you force a brave face. “No, sorry. Just feels really good.”

He’s unconvinced. “Kitten—”

“Please don’t stop, Sir,” you whimper. You use the quiver in your voice to persuade him. To keep him in this moment with you instead of trying to yank you out. “Please, I’m…I’m so close. Just wanna come with you.”

You hear him sigh and the firm grip on your hip loosens. “All right,” he concedes, yet…he pulls out.

You nearly wither.

However, before you can, he’s rolling you over onto your back. “I wanna try something else with you this time,” he says. “Wanna see if you’d ride me.”

You feel your eyes grow larger while your head nods all on its accord.

And he grins when he sees how mesmerized you are, grabbing your hand to help you up as you both get situated near the headboard. An easier place to start.

He pulls you over his thighs before he’s slipping his hands beneath your large shirt to pull it over your head. And once he has full access to your chest, he takes advantage. Kissing and licking your tits while his palm flattens against your spine to keep you on his tongue.

Then, you sit.

You start slow, and he uses his other hand to guide your hips at a pace he prefers. A pace he knows will be easier on you. After all, you’ve never taken him like this, and he’d like you to enjoy every fucking inch of the way down.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders as you go. This stretch is just as tantalizing, yet strangely more pleasurable. He feels deeper than he ever has and you glance down at where your bodies meet as though you’ll be able to see just where he is.

He smiles and takes your hand. “Right here,” he murmurs, as though anticipating your wonder. He presses your palm flat against your stomach before nudging himself up into you and—

The gasp melts into a moan, and he thrusts up once more but keeps your hand taut to your tummy. To the subtle bulge you can feel moving beneath.

“Sh…shit,” you manage, nails scratching at your skin. “I’m…fuck, Harry, I—”

“I know,” he says gently. He’s watching you again. Curious to your reaction and seemingly enthralled by your response. Happy. Content. “I know, baby. S’good, yeah?”

You surge forward and kiss him. Taking your hand away only so you can drag it down his chest and claw at his heart as though desperate to reach inside and take hold. To keep it. Forever.

You can feel it thumping against his ribcage. Going about as fast as you imagine yours is and there’s something so incredibly wonderful about knowing he’s equally as possessed as you are.

He seems to realize he’s the first man to do something so intimate with you and he likes this idea. Likes that he will always be your first memory, forever ingrained in your past. He holds you harder and kisses you deeper and begins to move you faster over his cock.

You shift, and grind, and ride him until you’re both a mess of moans and incoherent praises. He helps lift you up and guide you back down, setting a strangely addictive pace of bouncing on his cock until you’re nearing a fourth. But you won’t succumb until he does.

Your body is spent, every limb tired and aching for relief. It almost hurts, this pleasure, but it’s oddly sweet. Everything always is with him.

“Doing so good,” you hear him say, and you peel your eyes open to watch the way he watches you. His face is magnetic, every inch of him just as erotic as the sex itself. Even the way he swallows and clenches his jaw in pure bliss. “So fucking good, Kitten, you gonna give me another?”

You mewl pitifully and attempt to nod but it’s useless. The pressure is building and the ache is distracting and you’re close but somehow not nearly close enough.

Yet your tears and meek reaction only entertain him further. He grins wickedly as he rolls you faster, taking your nipple in his mouth before looking up. “What’s the matter, baby, hm? S’it hurt?”

You nod again while your hands cement themselves to his shoulders for balance.

However, he merely hums while his fingers suddenly lift toward his lips and disappear beside his tongue. And he sucks. Loudly. Lewdly. Until they’re soaked and dripping.

And then…he drops them to your clit.

The sound you make is miserable and pathetic. It does hurt but in the best way and you bury your face in his neck as though to hide from the pleasure.

You feel him nuzzle his cheek against your head. “Shh,” he coos, and rubs his other hand up and down your spine soothingly. “You’re okay. You’re gonna take it, aren’t you? Gonna give me another—”

“Harry,” you cry, gripping onto his curls as though your life depends on it.

“You’re okay,” he repeats firmly. “You’re fine. I know you can take me, so take me. Just like you took your little fingers before I got here. You come for me the way you came for him. Okay?”

It’s mean and cruel and so incredibly sadistic but with one little pinch…he tips you over.

It’s quick but powerful and you’re drop kicked back into your body just in time to feel him twitch before he’s slamming you down and hissing, “Can I?”

You nod and he fills you. Completely and utterly, until your insides feel even fuller and your mind has gone numb.

His head drops back against the headboard, lashes fluttering shut with relief while you watch. You watch all of it. The way he dribbles out of your pussy and down onto his thighs. The way his cock sits snugly inside of you. The way his skin glistens from the sweat and exertion.

But you can’t help the whine that slips out when you see those delicious pearlescent drops go to waste and you squirm when you realize how much you’re really losing.

You’ve never been one to care about keeping it inside. In fact, you’ve never really cared about it at all. But now…it feels like you’re losing him. You’re losing this experience by letting it drip down and disappear, and you nearly start to cry.

He takes hold of your cheek and gently sweeps his thumb across the soaked, warm skin of your face. “Baby,” he breathes. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow thickly and attempt to relax. You don't imagine he'd understand. “Nothing, sorry.”

His head tilts but he’s still smiling. “Then why are you clenching me so hard? What’s wrong? Are you in pain, does it hurt?”

“No. No,” you assure him quickly. “No, I just…I don’t know. Feels like…a waste, I guess.”

He’s confused until you look down and the moment he realizes, he laughs again. “Oh, you sweet fucking girl—” He tugs you in for another kiss and now your body is numb, too. “God, I really don’t fucking deserve you.”

You whimper against his tongue and he sighs.

“I’ll give you more, don’t worry,” he says before kissing down your throat. “Next time. I promise. But right now, I wanna clean you up and make sure you’re all right.”

You’d likely protest if you had the strength, but instead, you allow him to care for you. He sets you down onto the bed as gently as he can before he’s rushing around your apartment collecting the things he needs.

He starts with a warm washcloth along your inner thighs to collect the sticky residue and add a bit of relief to your swollen cunt. And even though it’s sensitive and you try to squirm away, he soothingly talks you through it. Keeping you calm. Steady. Present.

Then, once he’s washed himself up as well, he asks if it would be all right to hold you. And it’s the easiest yes you’ve ever given.

So you stay in his arms for hours, your head on his chest, his lips in your hair. You talk about everything and nothing, just listening to the sound of his heart as he recalls past moments that made him happy. Like this one.

Then, your favorite part. He asks what you’d like to do next time.

“I don’t know,” you admit sheepishly. “I…I’m not sure what all I like.”

He thinks. “Well, we could do some research. Try a few things. You said you like things rougher, yeah? We could add some new dynamics. Degradation, harder spanking, punishments. Things like that.”

Your stomach flips. “You’re into punishment?”

He laughs and the sound is beautiful. “Yeah. Why, does that surprise you?”

“Honestly…yes and no.”

“We don’t have to go too deep if you don’t want,” he says. “We can keep it light, but the option is always there.”

You nod. “And…you like being rougher? You like…degradation and all that?”

“Yeah. Because I know my partner trusts me to take care of them even if I’m being harsh. And there’s something powerful in that, I guess. That their pain and their pleasure belongs to me.”

You feel yourself clench at the very thought before you’re scooting closer. “Well…that sounds good to me. I like being taken care of by you. Even if you’re mean.”

He laughs. “Was I mean, Kitten?”

“No. Just oddly possessive over that book.”

He hums before he looks toward the discarded novel on the other side of the room. “Yeah, well…fuck that book. I mean it.”

Now, it’s your turn to laugh. “Harry.”

“What? I do mean it.” He kisses your forehead. “You deserve better than some half-assed attempt at sex on a page. You deserve to be fucked and looked after. And Damien isn’t gonna do that for you.”

“No, but…I have other books.”

He snorts. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I just picked an easy one since I didn’t want you to get too jealous.”

“Is that right?”

“Yup. Although that clearly didn’t work very well.”

You feel him land a firm smack to your ass that makes you squeal before you settle again.

“Watch it,” he warns. “Or I’ll pull you over my lap right now.”

You grin. “Maybe you should.”

And when he chuckles, you feel whole. “Next time. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The room falls silent again as you exist in his hold. Against his heart. In his life in a way you never imagined.

And then…you ruin it.

“Was she surprised you were coming over again?” you ask quietly, breath already catching in anticipation of his response. “Or was she…mad?”

Yet true to form, he’s calm. “No,” he says easily. “She was happy, honestly. Just surprised you didn’t mention it to her yourself.”

You grimace. Right. “I…yeah. Sorry, I…I think I got scared.”

You feel his cheek roll across your head before he’s scratching his nails up and down your back. “Why, Kitten?” he asks softly. “She’s not scary, I promise.”

“I know. Fuck, I know. I know, I…I don’t know.” You groan. “I think I…I just think I’m still not used to this. To this idea of…sharing? And I keep worrying that she’s gonna change her mind and…and it’ll be over. Just like that.”

He considers this for a beat before he’s kissing your crown again. “She’s not like that. I promise. She never would have agreed if she thought she’d change her mind.”

“…I know.”

“And even if she did, she doesn’t get to make that decision for us,” he tells you. “If we want to continue, that’s our choice. And nobody else’s.”

This makes you smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Another kiss. “But you know she doesn’t want this to upset you. She cares about you a lot, Kitten. She values your friendship more than anything and she’d hate to know she’s made you so anxious.”

And just like that, you feel dejected again. “I know…”

“I don’t want to come between you two,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “And if I am—”

“No,” you interject. “No, you’re not. But I don’t want to come between you two, either.”

“You’re not,” he echoes smugly. “And I think that’s why this works. We’re good at sharing. At least with each other. And I like it this way.”

The contentment in his voice makes your heart swell and you reach up to kiss him firmly in response.

But the truth is, you don’t think you are very good at sharing. At least not him.

Although, you suppose you’ll have to learn.

Because next time…you don’t plan to let him go.

Writing smut inside smut is no joke 😭

Next Part:

~ Insufferable You* (Pt. 3)

Previous Part:

~ Infinite You* (Pt. 1)

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry styles request #harry styles concept #smut #concept #friend!harry #harry and kitten #open relationship!harry #soft dom!harry

2K notes · View notes

shadowtriovibes · 11 months

Text

it's a sign of the times

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: request [paraphrased]: "Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian..."

the 'verse continues in "the train ain't even left the station" [AO3]

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?” At once, the three of you freeze. “Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?” “I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Can you please remind me again why I’m even a part of this harebrained scheme?” you ask for at least the third time.

You’re crouched around a small table in one of the far corners of the upper section of the Library. It’s well past curfew, but since you aren’t technically breaking any rules by avoiding the Restricted Section, you’re currently getting away with your loitering, as do most students who are caught studying after hours this close to final exams.

Only, you’re not studying. You’ve been summoned there by Ominis, who despite being your closest friend at Hogwarts is also a conniving, duplicitous liar who neglected to tell you that this whole thing is Sebastian’s idea.

You watch warily as he turns over a contraband Time-Turner in his hands, inspecting its impossibly small dials and knobs. The golden sands inside the hourglass hypnotically shift back and forth while he reads over its inscriptions and consults the guidebook he’d smuggled out of the Restricted Section earlier that same day.

You have no idea where he managed to get the device – perhaps in one of those vaults along the coast in Cragcroftshire that he’d been exploring during the summer term. However, now he’s got it in his head that perhaps the reason you haven’t been able to heal Anne is that the cure to her curse simply hasn’t been invented yet. Therefore, a quick jaunt several years into the future ought to reveal a way to rid Anne of her illness (and maybe even earn his way back into her good graces).

It’s not the first ludicrous and impractical idea he’s had in the past year, nor will it be the last, but it’s certainly one of the more radical ones.

“Merlin’s beard, I’ve already told you,” Sebastian sighs. “Since we’re going forward in time rather than back, this is an unauthorized use, and in case we get stuck in the future, we might need your ancient magic.”

“So I’m an insurance policy?!” you demand.

“Not so much for Sebastian as for me,” Ominis answers plainly. “He thinks he’s got it all sorted out, but I’m not as sure.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian interjects.

You huff and roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that using a Time-Turner to go forward is expressly forbidden by the Ministry? It’s only to go back.”

“Loads of people have done it, though,” he argues. “I’ve been reading all about it, it’s well-documented.”

“And they’ve all come back to the present?” you demand.

“Yes,” he snaps. “...For the most part.”

You scoff. Unbelievable.

“Do you two honestly think my magic is just an unlimited get-out-of-Azkaban-free pass?” you hiss. “I have no idea how to manipulate time and space. If we get stuck there, we’re stuck there.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out like you always do,” Sebastian mutters distractedly as he fiddles with the Time-Turner.

You glance at Ominis pleadingly and he just shrugs.

“You know we can’t let him go alone, we’ll never get him back,” Ominis reasons.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you grumble.

Sebastian shoots you a warning look before he holds up the Time-Turner for the both of you to inspect.

“I have it set to jump forward twenty years,” he explains. “We’ll have to get cozy before we go, as we’ve all got to be wearing it. Physically, we’ll land precisely where we are now, at the same time of day.”

“What if the layout of the Library changes?” you ask skeptically.

“The castle hasn’t changed in centuries,” Ominis points out. “Compared to its history, two decades is indeed quite short.”

“...Fine,” you finally mumble. “Go on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

The three of you stand in a tight circle in a spot tucked away behind some shelves, hoping to remain hidden there after you make the jump forward in time. Sebastian drapes the thin gold chain connected to the Time-Turner around the three of you; it even seems to stretch and extend in length to fit. Then he murmurs a brief incantation to the enchanted timepiece and spins the innermost piece a whopping twenty times.

Your stomach lurches while it turns over and the world around you seems to spin out of control, almost like one of those Muggle carousel rides you saw once as a child. You can barely make out years and years of students and professors walking around you – through you, even – and countless books sliding on and off the shelves until everything comes to a sudden halt and you fall straight to the floor.

Ominis and Sebastian tumble with you, winded.

“That felt bizarre,” Ominis wheezes. “Where are we? Did we travel anywhere?”

“N-no,” Sebastian breathes. “Everything else just… traveled around us.”

You glance around the Library and see that as Ominis had suggested, it looks largely the same. There are some newer books among those you recognize on the shelves, their spines less creased and dyed with more vibrant colors than those of your time.

One title jumps out at you: Advances in Practical Conjuring, 1900-1910

We’re in the 1910s, you think bewilderedly. We’re in a new century.

Mercifully, the layout of the library seems to be largely unchanged. Rows and rows of dimly lit stacks stretch along the length of the grand room with two winding spiral staircases leading down to the lower level.

Once you catch your breath, the three of you cast Disillusionment on yourselves and huddle together to make your way downstairs to the Restricted Section. Ominis leads the way with his wand extended to search for any lingering students or restless ghosts, having long since proven that his spatial awareness bests both yours and Sebastian’s even without his sight.

Your trio makes it downstairs and past the first row of shelves before Ominis stops in his tracks. Sebastian collides with him and then you knock into Sebastian, causing you both to hiss some choice words at each other.

“What’s going on?” you demand in a whisper.

“Someone just came in,” Ominis explains. “The librarian is at the desk and she hasn’t noticed, but a student is coming down the stairs.”

Sure enough, across the room you see a faint flicker of light and can just barely make out the outline of a small student sneaking down the main stairs – must be a young one, you think, no more than thirteen.

“I think it’s a girl,” you offer. “I can see her just over there.”

“What’s she doing?” Sebastian whispers.

“I’m not sure yet,” Ominis says carefully. “She’s past the desk, the librarian didn’t see – oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

“What is it?” you breathe.

“She’s going straight for the Restricted Section,” Ominis mutters. “Just our luck, I suppose.”

The three of you remain crouched behind the shelf while you watch the girl creep ever closer to your hiding spot. You’re panicking inside your head, wondering what possible seams of the universe might immediately be torn to shreds if she were to spot the three of you, but thankfully she seems single-minded in her mission to gain access to the locked collection of books across the room from you.

“She’s tiny,” Sebastian snorts. “I suppose the young ones are even more bold in the future.”

“Weren’t you about her age when you first started to sneak into the Restricted Section?” Ominis reminds him.

Sebastian insists, “No, I was fourteen. I didn’t go in until Anne was attacked. She’s got to be twelve at most, maybe even a first year.”

“Will you two be quiet?” you hiss. “She’s going to hear you!”

Across the room, the Disillusioned girl pulls a key out of the pocket of her robes and starts to insert it into the lock. A girl her age wouldn’t have mastered Alohomora yet, you think, nor would it be effective on this kind of lock. You have no idea how she managed to get a copy of the key, however.

“Do you suppose we could just go in after her?” Sebastian proposes. “She’s nearly got it open, we should take advantage of that.”

“Are you mad?” you scoff. “We can’t be in there at the same time, we’ll get caught!”

“So what if some little girl from the future sees us?” Sebastian argues. “Why wouldn’t she believe we’re just students from her time doing our own research?”

But before you can further explain to Sebastian how astonishingly stupid that idea is, the girl across the room gasps softly and drops her key to the floor. In front of her, the lock is glowing red as if it’s searing hot.

That’s a new security development from your time, you think. It’s rather lucky the three of you didn’t discover that the hard way.

Immediately, the young librarian leaps from her seat and hustles across the room to the Restricted Section’s gated entrance much faster than Madam Scribner ever would have.

“Hang on…” you say under your breath. “Is that – that’s Sophronia!”

“Who?” Ominis asks.

“Sophronia Franklin, she’s a fourth-year in our time,” you explain distractedly. “She’s always lingering in the library, of course she takes over for Scribner once we finish school.”

“I know her,” Sebastian chimes in. “Tried to get me to play a game of trivia in exchange for returning a book on curse breaking I’d been waiting for. Rather precocious, I thought.”

You glare at Sebastian and he merely rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way, I was referring to her choice in books,” he grumbles. “Merlin, you’re protective of her.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” you murmur, appreciative of the fact that Sebastian can’t see you blushing. Truthfully, you don’t think much about Sophronia these days, other than that she absolutely cannot catch the three of you in her Library as she’ll easily understand what you’re up to.

Before you can try to convince the boys to call it quits and return to the present, Sophronia rounds the corner and the girl’s Disillusionment charm melts away in surprise.

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

At once, the three of you freeze.

“Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?”

“I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Apologies, Madam,” you hear the girl say with a cheeky lilt to her voice. “I was just looking for a book for my aunt, that’s all.”

Just then, Sophronia leans down to pick up the dropped key and all three of you catch a glimpse of the young girl’s face. She’s probably around twelve, like Sebastian had guessed, but her face… Merlin, she could be your younger sister.

Her slightly-upturned nose is nearly identical to yours, only she’s got a small smattering of freckles across hers. Then there’s her chin, which juts out just a bit like yours does, and you’re too far away to make out the color of her eyes but you’re positive that they’re almond-shaped just like your own.

Now that you think about it, her hair is tied back like you always did with yours when you were younger – braided with a green bow at the end, only her hair is a rich, warm brown color.

“...Is that you?” Sebastian asks softly. “How. How are you doing this?”

“That’s not me, I’m right here,” you remind him.

“Hold on, what am I missing?” Ominis whispers.

“That girl looks exactly like this one,” Sebastian insists. “She’s got her nose, her eyes, her face shape. It’s like there’s a second-year version of her, standing right across from us.”

“We’re twenty years into the future,” Ominis reminds you both. “...What if she’s your daughter?”

You feel like the room is starting to spin around you again, and you find yourself pitching to the side before Sebastian quickly tugs on your arm and pulls you back behind the shelf.

“Do not go daft on us now,” he mutters. “I don’t care if that is your daughter–”

“She’s your daughter too, you know,” Ominis chimes in. “In case you were wondering.”

“Wh… What?” Sebastian stutters, and Ominis gestures for the two of you to listen in.

“Goodness, Miss Sallow,” Sophronia sighs. “You really are so much like your father, always sneaking into the Restricted Section.”

You watch as the girl puffs up her chest proudly, a mischievous smirk on her face that doesn’t strike you as particularly like you at all – but rather Sebastian.

“I’ll gladly take that as a compliment, Madam Franklin,” Anne-Marie says.

“While I respect that you are both voracious consumers of knowledge, he, like you, had little respect for the rules of the Restricted Section,” Sophronia continues. “I’ll have to ask you to leave until you get permission from a professor for relevant research or turn fifteen.”

Anne-Marie is still arguing with the librarian as she’s being escorted out. “Perhaps if you would just let me borrow the book for a while–”

“I’m afraid I’ll also have to give you detention this time,” Sophronia interjects. “I can’t keep looking the other way simply because I owe your mother a favor. This is the third time this term!”

Anne-Marie huffs and folds her arms. “But my godfather–”

“Your godfather is a very busy man who would undoubtedly appreciate it if you spent more time staying out of trouble,” Sophronia finishes, “than trying to emulate your father. In fact, I think Ominis would agree with me that one Sebastian Sallow in this world is quite enough!”

Well, that certainly clears things up.

Sophoronia marches Anne-Marie up the stairs and out of the library. The three of you, having already forgotten your original mission, put your heads together without a word so Sebastian can drape the Time-Turner around your necks and return you to the present.

You collapse in a heap on the library floor, but this time it’s fully empty – even the librarian’s desk light is extinguished. You sit in silence for a few moments, and you and Sebastian don’t dare look at each other. Eventually you force yourself to stand and offer Ominis a hand up, steadfastly ignoring the other boy.

“So,” Ominis finally says, barely concealing his smile. “When exactly is it, do you suppose, that the two of you fall hopelessly in love with each other?”

You both curse at him at the same time, and Ominis throws back his head and laughs.

“Shout at me all you want, but that little girl is proof that the two of you are destined for each other,” he crows. “Oh, how brilliant!”

“Come now, Ominis,” Sebastian says with a nervous laugh. “You don’t seriously think that girl is, what… our child or something?”

“That’s precisely what I think,” Ominous answers, smirking. “You said it yourself, she looks exactly like her mother.”

“Stop!” you interject. “I’m not anyone’s mother, in case you forgot.”

“Perhaps not yet,” Ominis agrees primly. “I imagine it will be several more years before Sebastian makes you one.”

Sebastian goes deeply red while you sputter indignantly.

“Thats – that’s foul, Ominis,” you insist. “It’s untoward to even be talking about this!”

Sebastian folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re that offended by the very idea of us having a child together? I’m hurt.”

“W-well, I just meant that we shouldn’t talk about things that haven’t yet come to pass,” you explain nervously. “Besides, all that is years away. Decades, even.”

Sebastian glances sidelong at you, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way he looks you up and down.

“Right,” he says slowly. “It’s not like we know anything for sure, obviously.”

“Of course,” you agree. “...I don’t suppose you have any other family members named Sebastian? Distant relatives, perhaps?”

“Why?” he drawls. “Looking to snag a cousin of mine so I won’t be the one to father your children?”

You shove him right into one of the bookshelves, but he laughs like he doesn’t regret it one bit.

“Now now,” Ominis murmurs. “You ought to be kind to your future husband, you don’t want to damage his virility.”

“I have half a mind to put a dent in Sebastian’s virility right here and now to save me some trouble later,” you reply, casually aiming your wand at his groin.

“Have you gone mad?!” he stammers as he takes several steps backward. “Put that thing away!”

“Oh, will you please relax?” you sigh. “We just saw one of your descendants, your ability to procreate is in no danger.”

“You could still put me in the Hospital Wing,” he sulks. “Besides, it’s not just procreation that I use it for.”

Ominis snorts. “Unfortunately, I am intimately aware of that.”

You make a face while Sebastian grins cheekily, offering no apology.

The three of you start to make your way toward the exit into Central Hall, ignoring the weak protests of the prefects stationed outside. As you make your way back toward the Slytherin common room, you all fall silent again, lost in your thoughts.

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to forget what you saw, you think. In the future, you have a daughter. Her father is Sebastian Sallow, and… and she’s brilliant. Beautiful, courageous, more than a bit headstrong, and as determined as you both are if not more so.

You catch yourself actually grinning, and when you glance over at Sebastian, you see the same expression on his face.

“Anything you care to share?” you ask him.

“I know we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” he starts, “but there is one thing that girl said that I won’t soon forget.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he admits, “I heard her say she’s looking for a book for her aunt, and you haven’t got any sisters.”

You smile softly and reach for Sebastian’s hand. “No, I don’t.”

He lets you take his hand in his to give a reassuring squeeze.

“She’s still alive,” Sebastian says quietly. “She… she’s still sick, probably. But she’s still alive in the future. She meets my daughter, and she knows her.”

“She does,” you say. “And – and maybe we don’t quite know how that happens yet, but you can have a little faith, Sebastian. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, and Anne will be with us for a long, long time. There’s still plenty of time to make things right again.”

He nods wordlessly but doesn’t drop your hand.

Just before you arrive at your common room, Ominis stops in his tracks.

“Hang on… Her name, Anne-Marie?” he asks you. “That sounds like something Sebastian would have picked. How generous of you.”

“Aww,” Sebastian laughs. “You must be so in love with me by then to let me pick the name.”

You grit your teeth and ignore them as you murmur the password to the giant stone snake guarding the door, hoping to get some well-earned rest and be rid of these boys for the night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Sebastian says as he ducks around you and slips inside the door. “I’ll let you pick the name for the second one, and we can duel for rights to the third.”

You go running off after Sebastian and holler, “You bastard Sebastian Sallow, how many damn children are you expecting?!”

Ominis quickly pulls the door shut behind him and shakes his head.

“Godfather,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll never know peace, will I?”

---

[Get to know more of the Sallow kiddos in "the train ain't even left the station" ❤️]

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #my fic #time travel #i tried to stick to time-turner lore as much as possible while completely retconning it #(future) dad!bastian

4K notes · View notes

noisynaia · 1 year

Text

𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮

summary: The good old 'oh no, there's only one bed' trope.

pairing: Joel Miller x afab!reader

word count: 3.8k

note: Explicit (18+). Vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V, creampie. No use of (y/n). Nightmares. This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.

“Can you cut it out?” You sigh at the man who is currently and stubbornly laying on the hard floor next to the bed.

It had been raining heavily for the entire day, the downpour so heavy that you couldn’t see more than a foot or two in front of you. All three of you were soaked to the bone and freezing. Spirit had been very low in your little travel group. Ellie had not come with her usual jokes and Joel had been even grumpier than usual so stumbling upon the little cabin had been a real stroke of luck. There had even been a dresser with enough dry clothes for all three of you to change into.

You had given Ellie the couch in the living room since that was with the fireplace, leaving the single bedroom for you and Joel.

“Just get up here. There’s plenty of space for the both of us.” You continue, cursing him and his damn stubbornness. The bed is not huge, but it will fit two people finely.

“I’m fine down here. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He just grumbles.

You sigh, peeking your head over the edge of the mattress to look down at him. “I know you have a bad back and I need you to be well rested and alert, okay.” He tilts his head to look at you. “We both do…” You add, using Ellie to guilt trip him is maybe a little low, but you know it’s going to work and it is not like what you’re saying isn’t true.

“Fine.” He finally sighs, as he gets up from the dusty floor, his knees creaking slightly before laying down next to you, but he doesn't get under the cover, instead laying straight on his back on top of the comforter with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes staring straight up at the ceiling.

You want to tell him to just relax and get under the covers, but you don’t want to push your luck, so you just settle for the small victory of getting him into the bed, and who knows as sad as it makes you, maybe he really finds sleeping next to you more uncomfortable than the floor.

You try not to dwell on that possibility too much, ashamed of how much that would affect you, so you just get comfortable under the covers instead. Turning to lay on your side, facing away from him as you close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come to you.

“Can I ask you something?” You whisper into the silent room, somehow knowing that he hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

“Sure.”

“It will never get easier will it? Living in this world… I tell myself that it will, that it is going to hurt less with time but… I’m just kidding myself, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time and you start to think that he may have fallen asleep before he finally breaks the silence. “No, I don’t think it will ever get easier.” A short beat of silence before he continues. “But I guess we can hope.”

You sigh at his words. You really do hope so. The two of you are quiet again and you think he might have fallen asleep when he finally speaks again.

“Thank you.” Joel whispers into the darkness.

“For what?” You turn your head slightly towards him.

“For tolerating my bullshit I guess.”

It is the last words exchanged between you before sleep finally creeps up on the both of you.

—

You wake up only a few hours into the night by the feeling of Joel’s frantic movements. He is tossing and turning uneasily and uttering incomprehensible muttered words. You turn around to face him, barely capable of making him out in the darkness of the room.

“Joel” You whisper, propping yourself up on your elbow, making you hover over him slightly.

You watch the distressed look on his face, his eyes shut tight and his brows furrowed. Whispers of some terror make it out of his mouth. Your hand is hovering over his arm, unsure if he would be okay with your touch. But his nightmare seemingly continues. You frown and gently place your hand over his arm, softly rubbing the spot with your thumb.

“Joel.” You speak softly. “Wake up.”

You can feel how his whole body is shaking. He finally opens his eyes, letting out a gasp. His eyes wide and unfocused, clearly terrified of whatever he’d dreamed about, before they lock with yours and his gaze relaxes a little.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, his rapid breathing is slowly coming under control.

“Don’t apologize.” You frown at him, your eyes are now better accustomed to the darkness and you can see his face more clearly. “I get them too.” You confess dropping your head back on the pillow.

“Do you need anything?” You ask, feeling him move slightly on the mattress.

“No.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

Silence falls over you, the two of you just laying and listening to your own quiet heartbeats.

“Why don’t you get under the covers?” You finally say, almost a little pleading.

And to your happy surprise he actually does. Joining you under the covers, even though he lays stiff as a board and way closer to the edge of the bed than he needs to. You can live with that, you are just happy that he at least can be a little more comfortable and warm.

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

“You can talk to me, you know? If you ever need it”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah… I know darling.”

Darling. You think your heart skips a beat by the endearing name and you let out a sigh as you finally close your eyes again. “Goodnight Joel”

“Goodnight.”

—

You wake again in the early hours of the morning. It’s a slow ease into consciousness, a much gentler awakening than you normally get to have. Your eyes are still closed, and the only thing you currently perceive is the warm safe feeling of complete comfort, still half asleep, you haven’t registered what contributes to this feeling, how Joel is embracing you in his sleep.

Comfortably wrapped in a blanket in a soft bed and feeling the heat of someone’s body against you is a luxury you haven't felt in a long time. The comforting feeling of soft human touch makes you melt into it, and crave it from the very marrow of your bones. You stir slightly, letting out a content sigh as you slowly get pulled out of your sleepy daze, and that is when you realize the position you are in.

Your back is pressed up against Joel’s chest and his strong arm is wrapped around your waist. Your legs are entangled under the covers and his steady warm breath fans over the back of your neck. The two of you must have instinctively reached for each other in your sleep, the presence of a warm comforting body too irresistible, nuzzling you against himself in his sleep.

Your heart skips a beat at the gentle touch, feeling like you are going to cry from the overload of human touch. There is no way you’re gonna be able to part from his embrace without waking him, but maybe you should? Even though you really don’t want to. You feel slightly guilty as you lie and listen to his steady heartbeat

You want to be selfish for a little longer, savoring the warm comfort of Joel’s presence beside you, enjoying how it makes you feel. It feels too damn good after all the years of loneliness and fear. You can’t deny that you are feeling things for Joel. He is an attractive man, there is no doubt there, but there is more to it. The glimpses you have gotten of who he is behind the gruff facade, the man he must once have been, has made you yearn to get to know more of that side of him. The way he always makes sure you and Ellie are feeling safe. The way he over time has softened up a bit. How he sometimes will go along with Ellie’s shenanigans. How he will tell you that he will take the first night shift, but then never wake you so you get to sleep the whole night. You have scolded him for this numerous times, but he still does it whenever he senses that you are just a little more tired than usual.

You try to ease out of his embrace without waking him, but it only results in him hugging you tighter, pressing you closer towards him as he lets out a dissatisfied grunt like his subconscious wants you close. And it is now, as you are being pressed tighter up against him that you feel it, the press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass. You let out a little gasp, as a hot shiver travels from your abdomen down to your now throbbing cunt.

You know that it’s just a physical reaction to have a body this close, he didn’t even want to share the bed with you in the first place, but you had insisted on it. As much as you dread having to face him in this position, you really should wake him.

“Joel.” You whisper, moving your hand over the arm he has around you, gently brushing your fingers over the warm skin, waiting for him to wake. He stirs a little against your touch, but he does not loosen his grip on you. You hold your breath, feeling your pulse throb in your ears as you wait for a reaction. You just hope this won’t make him go back to being as closed off with you as he was in the beginning. You take a deep breath to brace yourself before you turn around in his grip so the two of you are laying face to face. Your movement seems to finally have pulled him out of his sleep. His eyes start to blink slowly as he is pulled out of his slumber, he murmurs your name, voice rough and raspy from sleep and it makes your heart skip a beat.

His eyes are finally opening to look into yours, the warm umber of his irises is so beautiful, you have never seen them this near. His face is so close. You can see every detail, every crease and he is so damn gorgeous. Your mouth is so close to his, it would be so easy to just lean in and connect your lips in a kiss. You feel Joel’s body stiffening as he realizes the position the two of you are in, and you are scared that he will bolt out of the bed and leave you cold and alone, but he doesn’t. The two of you are simply laying in silence for a long moment, looking at each other in the dim room, both of you engulfed by the other, but you finally collect enough composure to break the silence between you.

“Good morning.” You whisper into the quiet bedroom.

“Morning.” His voice is so deep and still rough from sleep. It makes your stomach do a flip. Maybe it is just wishful thinking but you swear that his eyes swift down to your lips for a second. Maybe it’s just time to be brave? You reach your hand up toward his cheek, letting your palm hover about half an inch from his skin. You want him to decide for himself if he is comfortable with your touch. Fortunately, after only a short moment of hesitation, he leans into your hand, exhaling as your palm cups his cheek. You kind of expect him to pull away any minute, but he doesn’t.

“I haven’t slept this well in a long time.” You confess.

“Me neither.” You have never heard his voice this soft before and that is when it dawns on you. This is Joel Miller. Not the man that has had to survive in a world with no hope, or the man that has lost everything that made him whole. Right now you are looking into the eyes of the man he once must have been. And maybe right now you’re the woman you were meant to be, the woman you would have been if your future hadn’t been torn away from you by the collapse of the world. There is something magnetic about it. Like the two of you are being pulled together by an invisible force, drawn together in the early morning bliss, both of you learning into earth other. Your lips brush, a ghost of a touch. He shivers but he is still not pulling away.

“Can I?” He whispers, his soft breath fanning over your lips.

“Please.” You manage to croak out, your entire body buzzing with anticipation.

It is all he needs to hear before he crashes into you, his chapped lips colliding with yours. It has been too long since you have felt the firm pressure of a man’s mouth on yours. You kiss until your lungs start to burn, and you have to pull away to catch your breath. His hand moves down to the hem of your shirt, his fingers ghosting over the warm skin beneath it.

“Is this okay?” He asks, sounding a little unsure.

“Yes, Joel.” You assure him. “Kiss me.” You add and he does, sliding his hand under the cotton of your shirt palming the soft skin of your side. You moan into his mouth as his tongue meets yours. You kiss until you no longer know where he starts and you end and you are almost convinced that the two of you have melded into one being.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He pants out as he finally breaks the kiss. All you can manage is to whimper in response as he moves his lips to your throat, licking and kissing a trail to the side of your neck. His hand slowly slides down from your side to the hem of your pants.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs into the skin just below your ear, before sitting up just slightly to look into your eyes.

“No.” You shake your head slightly. “Please don’t stop, Joel.”

You roll your hips a little, grinding against his strong thigh, needing him to understand how badly you want this. Something flickers in his eyes and he lets out a filthy guttural groan, flipping you over so you're laying under him.

Your entire body is aflame by his touch, a feral urge for more. More skin, more contact. So you move onto his shirt. The material slightly withered and moth-eaten from the years of being tucked away in a drawer. You pull it off him, revealing his broad upper body. You pause, captivated by the look of him hovering over you. The scars across his skin, the sparse hairs trailing down from his navel to his pants.

You wonder if he shaking because he’s cold or if he’s really just that eager for your touch. But it doesn’t really matter, either way, you’ll warm him up.

He slides his calloused fingers over the sensitive skin of your thighs, hooking them in the waistband of your panties, looking into your eyes. You nod at him, mouthing a ‘please’, spreading your legs a bit further. It is all he needs, an expression of filthy desire flickers over his face as he pulls your underwear down. Letting out a gasp as your soaked pussy gets exposed in front of him. His fingers slide along the insides of your wet lips.

“Shit, you’re so wet. All this just for me?” He almost coo.

“Yeah. All for you, Joel.”

“Wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

“Fuck, want that too.” You whimper.

He gives you a smile, dipping his head down to your shoulder, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck before kissing the soft skin under your ear. He makes sure to coat his fingers in your wetness before he begins to tease your clit. You let out a little gasp as he starts to draw slow light circles, but it doesn’t take long for him to pick up his pace and add a bit of pressure.

He teases your entrance, making sure to coat his fingers in your slickless before he slips one of his thick fingers into you. Another is soon added and you sigh at the sensation. He slowly pumps into you at first, giving you time to adjust to his digits, but he is soon picking up the pace.

“That’s right darling.” He mutters against your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

He is going fast now, using his middle and index finger to fuck you while the ruff pad of his thumb is pressing on your clit and you can’t help but let out a few pathetic whines. He is hitting a perfect spot, so deep inside of you, and you feel your orgasm approaching, finally falling over the edge when he curls his fingers.

“That’s right, just like that.” Joel groans as you clench around his fingers, slowing his pace slightly but still pumping you through your orgasm in a steady rhythm. “Just like that, darling, doing so well.”

He lets you ride out your climax on his fingers until he finally pulls out of you, popping them into his mouth, sucking off your juices with a pleasant moan.

“Fuck, Joel.” You pant out as you finally come down from your amazing high.

“Good?” He asks, a sly smile on his lips.

“Really good.” You ensure him, cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. “Want to make you feel good too.” You whisper, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Fuck, darling. I want to feel you so bad.” He confesses.

“Want that too. Fuck, want that so bad” You pant, letting your thumb slide over his cheek as you admire his handsome face. And you do want him, but more than that, you need him.

He lifts himself from you to strip off his pants and underwear. Your eyes widen at the view of him. His hard cock springs free, throbbing and thick, laying heavy in his palm as he takes himself in his hand. It still looks huge, even in his big hand, so you can’t even imagine how enormous it will look in your smaller one. He pumps himself a few times before leaning down over you again. He guides his cock to your entrance, looking at you for permission, which you give with an eager nod, before slowly pushing inside you, stretching your pussy to its limits the deeper he goes. You feel so full, like he is splitting you open with his thick girth. You whimper as you take more and more of his cock until he is all the way in.

“Fuck darling, you’re so warm, so fucking tight around me.” He groans before leaving a firm kiss on your lips. The two of you are laying like this for a little while, letting you adjust to his size until you can’t take it anymore.

“Move.” Your voice is low and rasped. “Please.”

With that, he lifts your legs, making you cross them around his lower torso as he pulls out of you, achingly slow until only the head of his cock is still inside of you before inserting all of it again in one fluid motion. You let out a gasp of pleasure.

He starts out with a slow rhythmical pace. He is giving you sweet praise at first, then progressively dirtier, more lustful comments as he loses himself more and more, his thrusts getting faster and more desperate. He lets out a throaty groan as your hands grab his hair. The way he is now pounding his cock into you, deep and purposefully, makes you cry out in pleasure, your ears filling with his growls and moans.

“Feeling so so good…” He says his eyes clenched tightly shut as he keeps thrusting into you with a savage speed. “I knew you would feel good, but damn.” He groans through gritted teeth. Joel is now moving with an urgency that has you seeing stars and you let out a cry of pleasure.

“Shhh.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips to quiet you. Ellie is, unlike you and Joel, a deep sleeper, but you would both be mortified if she heard the two of you, not wanting to traumatize the poor girl.

“You are taking me so well.” He encourages. “So fucking good.”

Your arms are desperately clinging to his back. His balls are hitting your skin and his cock is pounding into your soaked pussy, making a filthy squelching noise hit your ears.

The pressure is beginning to build up in your lower stomach, the feeling is making your head go dizzy. He is bringing you closer and closer with every strong thrust of his cock.

“I-fuck… I'm close.” You babble.

The knot in your stomach tightens and tightens until it all explodes inside you. Your walls clench down around him, sucking him in. You desperately cling to him as your climax washes over you, hands on his neck as you guide his mouth down to yours, you need him to kiss you through this. Your breasts are being squeezed against his chest, the feeling of his skin against your sensitive nipples makes you moan into his mouth.

You whine out as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He detaches from your mouth. The panic from cumming inside you is clear on his face. He pulls out, some of his load landing on your stomach, but most of it still inside of you, the sudden empty feeling makes you let out a little whine.

“Shit, I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

You know that he is right, he really shouldn’t have done it, but you can’t get mad at him you had been just as caught up in the feeling of him as he had been in you. You finished your cycle only a couple of days ago so you should hopefully be okay.

You cup his cheek, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “I think we should be okay, just don’t make a habit of it.” You grin at him.

He visibly relaxes at your words “I’ll make sure to pull out next time.” He assures you and your stomach flutters. Next time. You smile at his words.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

“Good.” You laugh lightly, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I liked seeing this side of you.”

He sighs as he pulls you close. His chest vibrates against you as he speaks. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller/reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller angst

5K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

"He Can't Know"

Y/N Wolff and her father have always had a rocky relationship. Formula One was bringing them together. She's not quite ready to let her relationship with a certain Ferarri driver ruin that

1.4K

Part Two

"He can't know," Y/N whispered as they met in the dark halls of the hotel. "If he finds out, he'll kill me, you and your entire team," she whispered, pressed up against the wall.

Her back was flush against it, her arms thrown around his neck. They were close enough that there was no space between them. If anybody was to appear now there would be no hiding it.

"We can't hide it forever," he whispered back, leaning down to kiss her.

Y/N pushed him away. "Yes we can. We need to be more careful, too. What if paparazzi is watching the hotel? What if somebody with a camera catches us when they think we're alone and they sell us out to the tabloids?"

Releasing his grip on her waist, Charles pulled away from her and let out a sigh. "You really want to keep me hidden away forever? Are you going to wait until we're married with kids before you tell your dad?"

She let out a sigh and went to say something else, but Charles had already walked away, leaving her standing in the hall.

That was the problem with Y/N Wolff, daughter to one of the biggest names in Formula One (outside of the drivers, of course). She found love and she couldn't express it, unless she wanted her dad to go Darth Toto on said loves ass.

Y/N and her father had never had a very close relationship. He was travelling a lot and Y/N never got to see him. She resented him for never being there. For missing all the school plays, the dance recitals, all of it.

Formula One was the reason Y/N hated him. Formula One was going to be the thing to fix their relationship. As soon as Y/N turned twenty one and she was done with university, she asked her father if she could join him as he travelled the world for the sport he loved.

Toto jumped at the chance. Y/N hadn't been to a grand prix since she was a little girl; he couldn't wait to take her around to experience it all.

Unfortunately for Toto, Y/N seemed to be preoccupied.

And she was. She really was preoccupied. With a driver clad in red and yellow.

Y/N made her way back to her hotel room. She kept her head down and pulled her phone out. With no other options, Y/N texted him. I'm sorry, she texted. I'm sorry and I will tell him, just not yet.

She stayed the messages, watching the three little dots appear for a few seconds, and then disappear right after. She threw her head back as she swiped her keycard against the door and pushed it open.

Charles wasn't happy with her, that much was clear. But what was she to do? Tell her dad and risk him killing both her and Charles? No way. She wasn't ready for that.

***

"Hey dad," said Y/N when she walked into the Mercedes garage. Toto looked at her and gave her a smile, already engrossed in meetings and work. She made her way to the back of the garage and sat alongside George's girlfriend.

He was just a little further down the paddock. He currently wanted nothing to do with her.

Y/N could do it now. She could rip off the bandaid and tell her dad everything. And then watch him rip off Charles' head.

She pulled out her phone to text him. Hey, she sent in one text. Good luck today.

Read but not answered. That was okay; he was a busy guy. Especially on race day.

“Good luck,” Y/N said to both Lewis and George. She reached down to scratch the top of Roscoes head as he came trotting past. It wasn’t long now until the race started. The drivers were doing their last minute prep.

When the race finally began, Y/N was still sat at the back of the Mercedes garage, headset on as she watched the race. When she first came with her dad to watched the Formula One, Y/N had found the races thrilling. Now, as she watched the two Ferrari’s driving around, her heart was racing in her chest and anxiety had her chewing her nails.

The race was over just as fast as it had begun (although not really, it lasted the amount of time it was meant to. For Y/N though, it felt like it was over just as quickly as it had begun). Lewis was on the podium and George just about missed out.

Charles, though, he was on the podium, alongside Max and Lewis. Y/N watched him, clapping her hands as he sprayed the champagne. She wasn’t going to lose him over fear.

After the race she made her way back to the hotel. Her father was letting her stay in the city for a little while, letting her have a little holiday. As she got out of the car and walked across the lobby, Y/N checked her phone.

Meet me in the hall.

Five little words. Five little words that meant so much to her.

Getting into the elevator, Y/N repeatedly pressed the button for the fourth floor. The elevator doors were too slow to close. The elevator was too slow going up. The elevator doors were too slow to open again.

Charles was waiting there, outside of the elevators. His arms were folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Mon amour,” he said as she stepped out of the elevator.

“Are you still mad at me?”

Charles shook his head. “No, I’m not mad. But you need to tell your father at some point. I want to be with you, and I don’t want it to be in secret.”

Letting out a sigh, Y/N fell against him. “I really want to tell him,” she confessed. “I really want to tell my dad but I’m so afraid of what might happen.”

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. “We can tell him together.”

No, not together. This was something Y/N had to do alone.

***

“Hey dad.”

Once again, Toto was too busy talking to properly acknowledge his daughter. She awkwardly waited beside him, hands shoved into her pockets as she waited for him to stop talking. But Toto kept going. It was understandable; he was a busy guy.

“Hey dad,” she tried again. “Can we talk?”

“One moment,” Toto responded.

Not good enough. “Hey dad. Can we talk? It’s about something important.”

That finally got Toto’s attention. He apologised to those he was speaking to and followed his daughter as she tried to find an empty room.

Once they found one, Y/N closed the door behind her. She leaned against it as her father took a seat. This was maybe one of the hardest things she ever had to do. “I’ve been travelling around with you for all of the season so far, and, a lot of things can happen when… you’re… travelling.”

There was really no delicate way to put it. Toto looked at her expectantly.

“I guess, what I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been seeing someone. And they are in the business of Formula One.”

Toto stood up. His arms were crossed as he walked over to the door. “Which one of them is it?” He asked, pointing at the door. “Which one of them touched you?”

“What? Nobody touched—”

“Who do I have to fire?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “What? Nobody. Nobody in Mercedes touched me. I’ve started seeing Charles.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Toto was saying nothing, and that was putting Y/N on edge. “Dad, please.”

But Toto held up his hand, silencing her. “You’ve started seeing Charles Leclerc? The Ferrari driver?”

Y/N nodded her head.

“I’m going to kill him.” He was calm, which, Y/N supposed was good.

But he was smiling. And that was better than Y/N could have asked for. “I know dad.”

“I’m going to kill him right now.”

A/N: Hey guys! So I moved to finish my studies and my roommate is going to watch the f1 with me I'm so happy. Anyways, with my studies resuming, I'm not gonna have as much time to write.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader

2K notes · View notes

nanamiluvs · 1 month

Text

oh your grace !

pairing : wriothesley x reader

rating : explicit

wc : 1k

tags : reader is afab but no pronouns used, use of “good girl”, wriothesley and reader are married, oh wriothesley loves to call himself the duke, sir kink, dirty talk, power play, begging, fucking in wriothesley’s office what a surprise, handcuffs, oh my god more dirty talk than i planned there to be,

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thinking about wriothesley who likes it when you address him as the authority he is.

wriothesley who likes the way the words “your grace” fall off your lips when you’re joking. that’s what people call him, he’s quite used to it - being the one that is respected. after all, if the duke wants something, he needs no justification. everyone knows that much.

such a man is your husband. he’s the duke, scariest person most have ever witnessed, yet he is just your sweet wriothesley when he rubs his slight stubble in the crook of your neck. he may be a big bad wolf, but he’s a little puppy in your hands.

that’s why you tend to forget just how intimidating of a man he is. i mean, how could you remember how people bow to him in respect when he’s the one kneeling before you?

wriothesley has no problem with this. he feels safe around you and trusts you enough to the extent he’s willing to be vulnerable, he wouldn’t prefer it any other way. that’s why he’s surprised to feel his cock stiffen when you cling onto his arm as he’s working, whining, “please, your grace∿ i’ll do anything.”

you feel the shift in his mood, too. your husband is an easy man to read. his eyes snap at yours, a sign of success on your part, finally getting him to pay attention to you. “is that so?”

wriothesley who leans back in his chair, giving you the access you need to crawl onto his lap. and crawl, you did. his large hands immediately found their place on your hips, holding you. you wanted to kiss that stupid smirk of hiss away.

“i can’t say no to you, can i? not when you’re so polite, so respectful with your grace. what a terrible duke that’d make me.”

wriothesley who makes you take him in your mouth as he continues his work since you’re so eager to please his grace. paying no mind to how your spit runs all over his cock nor the way you struggle and whine, mumbling something about how he’s too big to fit.

“shh. you don’t want to be a hindrance for the duke, do you? keep quiet and take it like a good girl.”

wriothesley who rushes to finish his work as soon as possible because he wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and slam his hips into yours, fucking you into oblivion. yet he wants to see you beg for him, eyes filled with tears as you need him inside. how shameful of you, he would say, ordering the duke around like that.

wriothesley who finally pets your head after he signs the last of the papers, your eyes lighting up as he looks down at you. “get up,” he says and you do so. he stands up after you, his frame taller and wider and towering over you as he traps you between his desk and himself. “now, how could he ever get his work done if little criminals like you kept bothering the duke?” his dick pressed against you from behind, one hand creeping up to grab your jaw while the other traveled downwards.

you blink as you hear the clinking of metal and feel the cold material around your wrists, accompanied by a click. “w-wriothesley?” you call out, unable to turn your face back to him with the way he holds you.

you can practically feel the shit-eating grin on his lips when he pushed you down on his desk, hands tied behind your back. “that’s not what you’re gonna be calling me tonight.”

“your grace,” you correct.

“smart girl.”

wriothesley who yanks your clothes enough just to have enough space to slide inside you, yet stays still when you expect him to do it. you can feel his heat throb against your ass, accompanied by his palms groping the flesh. “is this what you were trying to get?” he teased, “preventing the duke from doing his job, just to get his dick inside this pretty pussy?” you heard him chuckle when he probed your lips with his fingers, finding it already dripping and ready for him. “so wet, too. is this all for him?”

“yes.” you pant.

“i couldn’t catch that.”

“yes, your grace.”

wriothesley who makes you beg before his fingers find your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud and laughing as you clench around nothing. he can’t just give you what you want, can he? how could that be fair, treating a cute, pretty criminal like you with kindness? he’s insufferable, mocking your neediness, his hands roaming all over your body. he’s already done as much as to make you cum on his hands twice, and now people are going to call him unjust. b

wriothesley who finally slams inside you, the oversensitivity making you whine and moan as he set a harsh pace thrusting in and out. wriothesley was your sweet husband but oh god was he not a ruthless man.

wriothesley who keeps shaming you and praising you at the same time, telling you how good of a slut you are for your grace. his dick slides in easier with your mixed fluids inside your cunt, a creamy ring formed around his member.

wriothesley who slams inside you one last time before he stills, grunting as he shoots ropes of white cum inside your walls, the way you clench around his cock when you orgasm enough to drive him over the edge.

“but fortunately,” he whispers against your ear, bending down to press his chest against your back one hand skillfully undoing the locks of the handcuffs and dick still semi-hard. “you are the duke’s favorite.”

#wriothesley smut #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wrio x reader #genshin #wriothesley x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #wriothesley x you #genshin wriothesley x reader #genshin wrio #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut

620 notes · View notes

magiccath · 4 months

Text

Psychic paper

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the psychic paper betrays the Doctor

A/N: The Doctor is fruity, deal with it xx

You’d been traveling with the Doctor for a while now and you loved every minute of it. In that time he had shown you all kinds of things you had priorly deemed impossible; aliens with wiggly tentacles, a spaceship that defies the laws of 3 dimensional space, a buzzing device he calls the Sonic Screwdriver, and homicidal salt shakers with toilet plungers for arms to name just a few.

It seemed that with every adventure he showed you something new and fascinating, constantly topping himself without even trying. There was so much in all of time and space it wasn’t that hard. Anything outside of the 21st century was new to you.

This time, the Doctor had taken you to see a mechanics factory in the 35th century, but as always the adventure didn’t end there. Aside from new experiences, the Doctor could almost always promise some kind of trouble. He claimed he didn’t go searching for it but rather that it tended to follow him. Either way, most adventures with the Doctor involved some kind of mischief and usually a lot of running.

“It’s no good, you can only get in with an ID,” you groaned, popping your head back around the corner. “There’s a security guard checking everyone going in and out is an employee.”

You were hiding in a hallway, hoping to get inside the establishment's headquarters. The Doctor had a hunch that malicious alien forces were behind the operation, but he couldn’t be sure without poking around further. Typical Doctor, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“I can’t think of any legal ways to get in there,” you shrugged, turning to the Doctor for ideas.

“I have identification,” the Doctor smirked, rummaging around in the seemingly endless pockets of his coat.

“You’re not an employee,” you pointed out.

The Doctor made a triumphant sound as he pulled what appeared to be a small black notebook out of the depths of his pocket. He flipped it open and you realized it wasn’t a notepad. The item was more like a police badge, minus the actual badge part.

He turned the paper towards you with a smile, clearly expecting you to be impressed

“Aren’t I?” He grinned brightly, looking at you eagerly. “Psychic paper,” he explained, tapping the stark white paper with his finger.

You grabbed the item from him, squinting at it. You wanted to make sure you were reading it right, maybe your eyes were acting up.

“This just says ‘I love you’?” You asked, handing the Doctor his weird paper back with a frown.

“I think that flirting with the security guard is more of a Jack move,” you winced, not wanting to hurt his feelings. The Doctor was quite the charmer, but strategic flirting wasn’t his strong suit.

The Doctor grabbed his psychic paper from you, frowning at it aggressively. It wasn’t supposed to say that.

“What-?” he asked, glaring at it the same way you did. Once the words registered with him he turned a dark shade of red. He should have been more careful when he handed it over to you.

“It’s not supposed to say that,” he mumbled his thoughts, trying to hide his fluster.

“How does it work? Is it like a reusable notepad?” You asked, genuinely interested. Even if the Doctor’s tools could be finicky, they were interesting. Maybe he had just forgotten to erase the message from the last time he used it.

“No, it’s supposed to show the reader what I want them to see,” he blushed, shaking the paper out like a Polaroid. Usually shaking the item would clear it, but those three words refused to fade from the paper.

“Sometimes it’s a bit slow…” he said, really more to himself than to you. He was still shaking the paper, desperately trying to get the words to disappear.

“So you were going to try and flirt with the security guard?” You frowned, now you were even more confused. The Doctor would much rather blow the whole place up than try and flirt his way through security.

“No!” He said, almost a bit too quickly. He blushed again and averted his gaze, an anxious hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He hadn’t planned on telling you like this. He hadn’t planned on telling you at all.

“When I handed it over it was supposed to show you an employee ID,” he winced. You nodded, this much you knew. What you didn’t understand was the confession of love.

“But I think the psychic paper picked up on my feelings instead,” he whispered. If you hadn’t been listening intently you might have missed the last few words.

“Are you saying that you love me?” You frowned, looking at the floor with concentration, “or the security guard?” The second option seemed more viable at the moment.

For the first time in a century, the Doctor was speechless. He stared at you, wide-eyed and unblinking as you waited for his answer. If it was possible, his jaw might have fallen to the floor.

“He’s pretty handsome, I can’t blame you,” you added, peeking over the wall to look at the security guard again.

The Doctor shook himself out of it, rambling a string of incoherent words. “I- uh, wha-?” He stumbled, trying to form a sentence.

“I handed the paper to you.” He said definitively.

“It’s a really dramatic way to come out, Doctor.” You continued on, ignoring him. It’s not like you didn’t know already, he wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“It didn’t say ‘I love men’!” He threw his hands up in distress. “It said ‘I love you’!”

You finally stopped rambling on about the security guard and turned your attention to the Doctor. His words caught up to you and tentatively you pointed at yourself as if there was any other you. The Doctor nodded exasperatedly as if to say “Yes, you!”

“You love me?” you asked, still pointing at yourself.

“I think I’ve said it about four times now.”

“You?” You pointed at the Doctor, “Love me?”

“Blimey! Yes!” He shouted, frustrated now. You widened your eyes and anxiously checked around you, scared he might have given away your location. Thankfully, everyone appeared to be out of earshot.

“Yes, I love you,” he whispered this time, his eyes boring into yours. You blinked slowly, your brain still refusing to process his confession.

You smiled brightly, your grin taking over your entire face. The Doctor loved it when you lit up like this, your happiness radiating off of you. He felt a small smile of his own tugging at his lips just looking at you.

“I hope that’s alright,” he whispered quietly. He would never forgive himself if he lost you over a psychic paper mishap. The embarrassment would be too much - he’d have to run away. Maybe to that planet inhabited by only rubber ducks?

“That’s more than alright,” you grinned, a hand instinctively reaching up to his arm to comfort him. The fabric of his coat was cold against your palm, but you didn’t pull away.

The Doctor really smiled back at you now, the wild lopsided grin that was reserved just for you. The kind of smile that always made you laugh with joy.

He wasted no time wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting your body off the ground in excitement. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar scent. You laughed happily, waving your feet about slightly.

The Doctor pulled back just enough to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. Neither of you could stop smiling, even as your lips met. You laughed against him, planting kisses across his face sloppily. Your lips brushed the tip of his nose, the arch of his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth, and his jawline.

“The security guard is pretty cute though,” the Doctor teased with a sly smile.

“I knew it!” You burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you did.

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #doctor who #tenth doctor #10th doctor #david tennant #fanfic #fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #the doctor x reader #the doctor/reader #the doctor #psychic paper #doctor who bbc

711 notes · View notes

plasticferal · 5 months

Text

hate that i love you | matt sturniolo.

authors note: i am sickly obsessed with his mattitude so i had to, also not really proof read so sorry, i’m tired.

warnings: dom!matt, fem!reader, angst, mentions an argument, explicit language, physical and verbal degrading and kind of rough, unprotected sex. reader discretion advised.

the dramatic clinking sound of ice cubes hitting the glass was enough to make your eyes snap open. you had chosen to sleep on the lounge as opposed to with matt after a heated argument. you were prone to arguments, but tonight in particular, tore the house apart.

tiredly, you raise from the lounge to watch where the noise was occurring, hearing him pour himself a drink. “didn’t mean to wake you,” his low voice travels through the silent, dark house. you roll your eyes, knowing he purposely made no efforts in being quiet.

“whatever, matthew.” you huff, tense from the distaste in his full name. sliding your body off the couch, you shuffle into the now brightly lit kitchen. ignoring him completely, you brush past him coldly to grab a glass from a top shelf, feeling his eyes on you as your shirt lifts with a stretch. you turn around and stare at him, waiting for him to move away from the sink that you need to access.

he rolls his eyes, stepping to the side. his lower back is resting against the kitchen island, one of his hands' curves around the counter while the other wraps around his beverage. annoyed, you flick the tap on, letting the water rush heavily before slamming it shut.

“can you calm down?” you hear him cut through the tension.

you chug down your water glass, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before locking your eyes with him, waving the empty glass in your hand and making it clear that you’re lowering it into the sink at a slow pace, to satisfy him. calmly. more or less to shut him up.

before you get a chance to leave the kitchen, matt's hand lunges forward to wrap around your wrist, an unexpected touch. your face is flat as you look at him, wondering what on earth he could possibly have to say.

“no goodnight kiss?” his words are underlined with mock, knowing how much it would get under your skin. you pull your hand out of his to storm off, but not before muttering something under your breath.

“asshole,” you aim toward the hallway cupboard to collect blankets for the couch, where you intended to sleep.

your fights lately have been escalating, but tonight was the final straw. this fight was still fresh in your mind. you remember slamming the laundry basket of clothes against the wall and him yelling that the neighbours could probably hear you. you didn’t care. you remember him saying maybe you two should take a break, that it was getting too much. but there was no such thing as a ‘break’ in your mind. just a break up.

he chuckles bitterly, having heard your whisper. you wave him off with your hand. he gives you a “whatever,” before you leave momentarily. you return with a white soft knitted blanket and silk pillow that you typically slept with in your arms. you throw them on the couch with a defeated sigh.

“don’t be ridiculous, you’re not sleeping on the couch, come on,” you hear him speak, sauntering into the dimly lit open living space and placing his hands on the back the couch.

“yes i am.” you look at him.

“no, you’re not.” he debates, almost thinking this conversation is a game.

“stop telling me what to do, i’m so sick of you,” you grumble with clenched teeth, as you begin to tuck one of the blankets into the couch cushions.

“fine, whatever sleep on the fucking couch, i don’t care anymore,” he turns his shoulder on you abruptly, and your eyes go wide.

“like you cared at all in the first place?” you pushed back, arms folding across your chest as a wall to defend your feelings. your words were coming from a place of hurt. of course he cared about you. but for a while it seemed as though he didn’t want to.

“don’t you dare say i never cared,” he turns back and points a finger at you, firing up in defence. "i still do, you just don't appreciate shit," and his words are clearly in retaliation.

“god, i hate you sometimes,” you thought that sentence came out in your head, but it didn't. you speak out loud. he freezes, eyebrows scrunching in query. he steps forward slowly.

“what did you just say?”

you look down at your feet, flushed with remorse but more confusion on if what you said, you meant. you grind your teeth together, contemplating whether you should even look up at him.

you ignore his question, choosing instead to lock your eyes with his, almost feeling like a stare-off. his hair is a mess and still wet from his shower earlier, his white tee-shirt contrasts his dark tattoos, and his sweats hang dangerously low on his waist. all things you wish you couldn't see. your own arms cross over your chest, mirroring him. he takes a small step forward.

“you didn’t hate me last night when i had you clawing at my back,” his voice lowers an octave, making you drop eye contact with him to gaze at anything but his face, knowing it would just make your words catch in your throat.

“because we didn’t fight last night” you fire back quickly, starting to walk into the dining room. trying not let him get under your skin.

“we fight every night, y/n!” he huffs a bitter laugh and follows you, throwing his hands up as he speaks.

“because you’re never happy!” you pause your steps with scoff, mimicking the way he talks with dramatic gestures before turning on your heels and storming off once again, or attempting to at least.

matt grabs your arm, longer limbs making it effortless for him. tugging you to toward his chest and you collide with him. matt's lips are inches apart from yours, breathing heavily from the exasperating bickering.

“don’t walk away from me,” he states firmly, eyes darting up and down your face. a smile threatens to curve your lips, knowing it would just tip him over the edge. you take the initiative to lean in closer, lingering so close to his face you can feel his breath, body heat and light peach fuzz that covers both of your skin. with your voice soft and gentle, you utter your next sentence.

“fuck you.”

his eyebrow perks up and jaw tenses slowly. his stark blue eyes darken, looking deep into yours. an easy, smug smirk pulls and dimples appear in his cheeks.

"as you wish, sweetheart,” he speaks in a relaxed manner.

his fingers brush against your hip bone, sending a chill across your side. you want to lean into his delicate touch, but keep your self control together. you push his hand away, sharing a sharp, distasteful huff.

“you think that will resolve this?” you narrow your eyes, daring his response. he raises his hand slowly to brush them across your cheek, down your jawline. creating a flowing rhythm further down your neck, warm fingers past your collar bone.

“with how hard i’d make you cum, yeah, i do” his response is fearless and direct, like any other confident line that has ever left his pretty, smart mouth. you feel excitement trying to push through the stern front you’re attempting to keep up.

“i’d like to see you live up to that,” you retort, making his hand stop at your hip to grip tightly, pressing deep into your bone and tugging the lower half of your body to touch his.

“baby, i can live up to my word on one condition,” matty speaks. you wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t waste a second in sliding his hands down the back of your thighs to lift you up, turning you around to place on the cold wood of the dining table.

“don’t talk back.” and just like that, he was over the edge. he forces you in place, shuffling your shirt up past your hips eagerly. you support yourself on your elbows and lean back to still be able to see him, and allow him to take control.

his coarse, hot hands plant themselves at your side, thumbs digging deep into the crease where your hip meets your leg. the pressure was sure to leave a sore spot in the morning. spreading you open for his pleasure, he dips his head down to brush his lips along the inside of your thighs. he starts at your knee, and you feel his breath as he travels closer to your heat, teasing you.

you crave him to come closer, to make more contact. knowing what you want only makes him do the opposite. he brings two fingers to your black lace panties, pulling them to the side, whereas usually you’d help guide them off. while his fingers are there, the takes his middle and ring finger and slides them through your folds, feeling the pool that’s starting between your legs.

“matt-” you exhale.

“shut up.” he doesn’t give you a chance to merely breathe his name, hand holding your lace to the side and mouth attaching to your cunt. his tongue scoops upwards, soft yet firm. he enjoys going down you more than he’ll ever admit, but when he thinks he has the upper hand in a disagreement, your punishment is having to let him focus. therefore, no speaking.

you feel him flick your clit, before making a stripe back from the start. he keeps attacking with his tongue, moving his mouth rhythmically but not focusing on your sweet spot as he doesn’t want to overwhelm you just yet.

his free hand leaves your thigh and makes his way to your heat, the tip of his middle finger tempting your entrance before he spits harshly, making you hum, as he slides in slowly. you gasp as his finger curves inside you, exploring you. inserting a second finger, he quickens his pace, thrusting into you hard and firm, tips brushing your walls with every push.

you grind into the palm of his hand with a heavy moan, friction from both matty and the table beneath you stimulating every moment. his tongue fixates again on your cunt, moving fast. you’re desperate for more, and he’s dragging out every second he can. you try to encourage his movement, running a hand through his perfect subtle curls. you grip his soft brown hair between your fingers, pushing him down to force pressure.

“y/n, keep your hands to yourself,” he swats your hands away, and you groan in annoyance at the loss of momentum.

“but i need more,” you almost demand with irritation, seeing as though this was not only his idea, but emphasising the pent up annoyance lingering from the fight earlier. all he wants is for you to be quiet and take it. you’re a challenge for him.

“like the needy slut you are." he states.

“actions speak louder than words.” you counter.

“fuck are you gonna stop talking or do i have to make you?” matt groans, growing more direct.

“i never agreed to stop.” you rebutted. he laughs with a scoff, licking in the inside of his cheek slowly. he leans up to straighten his posture, looking down at you with his hips flush against the table.

“y’wanna be that way? okay,” he exhales while slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down teasingly to show the soft pale skin sharply leading down to his already hardening cock, pressing against his boxers. it’s all your eyes can focus on.

“turn around.” he speaks faint, raspy. when you take a few seconds too long to manoeuvre your body the way he desires, he takes it upon himself, forcing you by your hips and pressing into your lower back to flip you over. his strength is beyond you, and there’s no chance you’re unable to be manhandled. you’re on your knees, ass out for his viewing pleasure on this huge table. you still use your elbows as support, back arching.

his right hand crawls around over to your face from behind, around your neck, then up to your lips. the fingers that were inside you make their way into your mouth, prying your lips apart and forcing entrance to make you taste yourself.

he keeps them there, using his free hand to slide his boxers until they fall. he traces the arch of your spine. when he reaches the curve just below your ribs, he abruptly grabs your body, pulling you toward his waist.

you feel the tip of his cock push against your exposed perineum, warm and wet, inching closer to your entrance where he finally fills you. you moan as he swallows his own, heavy exhaling with relief as he slides out and slams into you heavily.

he repeats his motions once your body gives him the green light, thrusting into you at a steady pace, giving you time to feel his full raw movement when he pulls back before aggressively crashing your skin together. you can feel the sweat starting to glaze your skin, rocking back and forth with each moment. you moan with each stroke of his thick throbbing cock, the friction becoming a fire between your core.

“gonna try speak with my fingers in your mouth, huh?” he grunts, still thrusting into you deeply.

without warning, he brings his free hand down to the side of your thigh with a hard spank, stinging badly. you gasp, teeth digging into his fingers as he makes a mess of your saliva all over your lips and chin, not being able to keep his hand still.

matty prides himself on how long he can last, and his stamina meaning he has the time and patience to edge you until you’re on the verge of tears. you can feel the familiar feeling of a climax buzzing in your stomach, nearing closer with the consistent pace. you bring a hand up to put pressure on your already sensitive clit, making you shutter.

he finally pulls his fingers from your mouth and you pant, cussing and yelling "fuck, shit, s'good" your eyes shut tight, trying to match his pace and slap your ass into him while he thrusts. he slaps your cheek just hard enough to snap your eyes open, and you realise you're being far too loud.

he curves himself over your body so his chest is pressed on your back and he bites your shoulder, leaving marks all over your upper back. he bites hard enough to make you wince, and it's a very clear punishment for you.

"says i don’t care," he mutters, recalling the words you spoke earlier. he never drops anything easily. he'll use anything against you when he has you a moaning mess underneath him. he thrusts slow and hard, the noise so loud and hard you cry out.

"you hate me now, princess?" another hard, almost painful thrust. his thick cock fills you and hits so deep, feeling him the entire time and heavy in your cunt.

"n-no," you cry out again, feeling a tear slip. he'll never admit it, but the sight of your face wet from tears is the prettiest image for him. he wan't to be the only one to make it happen, and the only one to kiss it better, wipe your face, kiss it better.

"yeah, that's what i thought," thrust. he picks up his pace again and you know you can't last long.

"i'm gonna cum, matt, i- i need to," your breathing is jagged and voice is strained. you feel yourself clench around him and matt grabs your ass with his hands, repositioning to pull you back and forth aggressively onto his cock, and you're gripping the table so tight.

"god you feel so good. this pussy is so fucking good," he speaks through tight teeth. the moment you scream out and let your body collapse he pulls out and you feel his warm cum land all over your lower back.

"sh-shit, fuck," he moans out his climax, in a shuttering breath, the sweetest sound you could ever hear. he slaps your ass again, making you kneel up.

"cm'here" he uses your own shirt to clean you, wiping you down before helping you off the table. your legs are jelly, so you hold onto him tight.

"come back to bed?" he asks, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep you standing. you nod, and he starts guiding you both toward his room. you pull him back to face you.

"i don't hate you, matt" you bring your lips up to his, kissing him softly. he doesn't kiss back.

"not what i wanna hear," he shakes his head. you hesitate, leaning back to think. you really do not want to escalate it, but you think it's more suited to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"i hate that i love you," you look him in the eyes. he laughs through his nose, an exhale of air.

"i'll take that," he leans down, connecting your lips. he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, pressing harder. squeezing lightly. he pulls back, brushing your noses together.

"i hate that i love you too, baby," he starts.

suddenly leaning over he’s sweeping his arms under your thighs, carrying you bridal style. you hold onto him tight, letting a laugh out as he yawns.

"now let's go to bed before we break up again."

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo one shot #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets

850 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Anhedonia 2/2

Word count: 5,5 k (part 1) and 4,4 k (part 2)

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader Tags: SMUT 🔞🔞🔞 Literally just unadulterated, deranged filth, plot is there for decoration. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mutual pining, sexual tension (duh), blood & injury, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), mutual masturbation, cum all over the place, light humiliation, dirty talk, some praise, swearing, mask stays on, fluffy/reconciliatory ending. Summary: Reader is a Task Force 141 operator and a terrible brat (and suffers the consequences of it later). Enemies to lovers/toxic relationship that takes a healthy turn in the end. Read PART 1 here

"Wha' a good girl you are now…"

His first words hit you like a moan-inducing massage, but you stay silent and steady in your resolve.

"Good soldier, too. We just need to get you to follow orders so that you don't get hurt," he speaks gently.

There it is, finally – a good girl and a good soldier. You have to mentally bind your hands behind your back and place an imaginary gag in your mouth not to chirp and bounce up from joy. It's pathetic, but it's also harrowing: Ghost never meant to fuck with your head; he only wanted to keep you safe. But then he causes another riot in your brain with the next thing he says.

"Such a beautiful sight… You'd make a fine pet."

- - - - - - - - -

You go to offer your apology the next day after sleeping on it.

You feel like you're the most horrible person in the world. And yet, when you knock on his door and call yourself in when only a silence answers, the scalding gaze that locks into you like the sights of a gun remind you why you said what you said.

It's like the man has struck a knife in you, and twists it just to see you squirm. And you do: it's a telltale sign that you've been claimed when you kneel in the middle of his office while he sits behind the same desk he rutted you on less than 20 hours ago.

He says nothing. You wait, equally as quiet, like you're waiting for a pardon from Caesar.

The atmosphere is mellow: his shutters are closed but one window is creaked open, allowing birdsong and summer wind on trees to pass through to his otherwise stale office. It stirs the softest, small smile on your lips as you look at him, adamant and all locked up.

Your knees hurt, but he eventually breaks first: something you hadn't even calculated might happen. The brimstone of his eyes steal a breather to the side, then come back to you with a tinge of confusion in them.

Then he lifts his chin, lifts a hand, a command for you to approach.

Your smile only softens as you go around his desk, and he pushes the chair away with one foot, turns to meet you as you fall on your knees again, then on all fours before starting a slow crawl to him.

His eyes go wide, his head draws back as if you approaching him like a housecat is the most threatening situation he has ever been in.

You have planned this through, and he has the instincts, the sixth sense of a seasoned hunter as he opens his legs wide to make space for you.

He certainly doesn't stop you as you free his erection from the sturdy cargo pants and offer your apology by taking him in your mouth.

He knows what's coming but still gasps and grabs the arms of his chair with white knuckles. You're on your knees, seemingly domesticated, but he's the one begging for mercy before you have even begun. He's heavy in your mouth, but you welcome the weight with greed and a hot tongue.

His thighs travel wide and far, just like yours did last night. The first moan is divine. He eases into the chair while the muscles on his stomach and thighs twitch and shudder.

A pair of boots echo in the hallway behind the door, the sound soon disappearing into the distance. Anyone could walk in at any given moment, and the notion makes your head feel dizzy.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't disclose in any way that he is considering forgiveness.

But eventually, he starts to melt upon your tongue like a snow-covered mountain ridge basking in the sun. Something in the way with which you work him slowly and with gusto makes him send a hand on your head. It strokes your hair softly.

"Wha' a good girl you are now…"

His first words hit you like a moan-inducing massage, but you stay silent and steady in your resolve.

"Good soldier, too. We just need to get you to follow orders so that you don't get hurt," he speaks gently.

"Such a beautiful sight… You'd make a fine pet."

You give him some teeth for that. Just the lightest scrape as you arrive near the base of his cock. He hisses, then laughs.

"Careful, love."

It's the first time ever you've heard him properly laugh. The sound implements itself into your core, your spine, your DNA. It's genuine and hearty, and the summer brushes past the open window to your face in a reviving breeze. Combined with the dark musk of his laughter, it makes your heart flip, and a small, tickling giggle bubbles inside you too. It arrives muted against his cock, but it's a magnificent moment – you two laughing together, even if for a second, even if yours is just a huff of an exhale against his pelvis.

"You don't like the idea?" He asks you a question as if you didn't have your mouth full of him.

His offer is alluring – of course you'd like him to take you as his pet. You could get good food and caresses, get to curl next to him when he goes to sleep. He could show you off like a domesticated animal if he wanted to. He could parade you down the street on a leash, and you would only purr as you go.

But while the proposition is enticing, you leave him with no answer, knowing it will only intrigue him if you don't say yes.

"I would be good to you," he starts to slip, and you up the pace a little. Open your jaw as far as it can go to accommodate him as much as you can, the soft hood of his cock meeting the back of your throat.

"So good– nh..." You can almost hear how his head rolls back, and you catch yourself worrying if he might hurt his neck because the chair has no headrest.

You do it again, and again, almost choking while trying to show him how good you are, how well you can take him and what your tongue can do too. You nearly stumble while you're at it, so lost in him, and you have to reach for support to prevent yourself from falling.

Your hand finds his leg, clutches the khaki that hugs a broad thigh. You flinch when a hard, heavy palm descends on top of yours. It brushes a thumb over the back of your hand as his sighs travel through the stagnant air, rampant and unchallenged through the fabric of his mask.

"Be my pet, sweetheart," he prays, growing weaker by the second. It's like a charm that transforms you into a priestess, a Babalon whore, a scarlet woman who adores men before sending them off to war.

His hips buck, he starts to clutch your hand like you're a rope that's going to save him from drowning. The other hand is more gentle in grip, but mercenary in demand as he grabs a fistful of hair to guide you along his length. Your gag reflex almost shoots him out of your mouth, but he is relentless.

He knows you can take it.

"That's it–that's it, luv," he rasps, and every other noise gets shut out of your brain as you go deaf to the sonic world. You can feel his thighs bunch and tremble around your head, the earthquake under your fingers pressed against hard, lifeless textile when they should be scraping his skin instead. He opens like a woman, massive legs spread hungry and wide as he shoots a load in your mouth. Ample, abundant, even if he just filled you to the brim not too long ago.

You drink him dutifully, greedy for the praise of a job well done, but such a thing never comes. He just breathes heavy over you, sounding happy, the happiest man on earth. You lick him clean, although there's really nothing to clean except your own saliva. The cock glistens, jolts happily one last time after you're done.

"I can make you scream on that desk," he offers while his hands release their death grip on you. Your hair gets tucked behind your ear, he even squeezes your hand briefly like you're his most trusted companion. His cock is flaccid, so you assume he's offering his fingers, perhaps even his mouth to you.

You'd like nothing more than to know if he has a stubble under that balaclava. To see if he would kneel on the floor too to shove his face between your legs while you're splayed over that desk. If he would forget about the door too, making it possible for anyone to catch him with his nose up your cunt. For Soap or Gaz or even Price to see how the broody commanding officer is just a thirsty hound dog on a bowl.

But then again, you just worked yourself up to a shattering orgasm. Two times, actually – deliberately, before you came here. The taste of his cum on your tongue will have to suffice; hell, it's almost better than him finally fucking or licking you into a deranged bliss.

You sense another opening, can't just help yourself…

"Thank you, sir. But that won't be necessary."

- - - - - - - - -

You begin to fear that you're the narcissist here. The way you make him twist and turn like a corkscrew, the way it makes you feel to see how he spirals deeper into madness. Even your eyes are too much for Ghost, who avoids your stare on missions but hunts you down at the base.

"What does it take?"

He ruts you whenever and wherever he can, in the toilets if need be, too busy to haul you into his room after a mission. You just so happened to pass him by, and it was the nearest space with a lock on the door.

"What the fuck does it take?"

The static hum of the bright, unyielding light and the smell of chlorite oozing out of tile seams is everything but a romantic setting as he drives into you from behind and watches you through the mirror on top of a small sink – watches how you give him nothing.

You're trying to take support from the white porcelain even though he's holding you firm against his chest with that inked arm wrapped around your middle. You want to spread your legs for him but can't, since he barely had time to rip your pants down before getting himself out as well to fuck you, so you settle for admiring how vulnerable he looks while he tries his all to please you.

"Do I have to take the mask off? That it?" He's far from a calm and collected lieutenant as he sweats black paint and despair. "Ya want my mouth? Just say it. Promise I'll make you cry."

You laugh at him through the mirror. It's an involuntary, spontaneous action, and you can't really help it. The man is absolutely adorable… And here you have been, fearing him for weeks without realizing he's just another lonely soul.

He doesn't know your strategy. He doesn't know that it's just you and your hand that are his worst enemy.

"What're ya laughin' at?"

You bite your lip, allow him to see mischief and a quivering smile, wet, adoring eyes paired with simple silence. He could force and command and bully you, but he doesn't do it.

Who's the pet now?

"Obviously, you like my cock," he grunts. "Always wet 'n' ready to go, like a fuckin'–"

It ends in a huff before a potential slur comes out.

Truly a gentleman…

"You let everyone 'ere have a go at you?"

He ticks like a time bomb inside you.

"I'm the last to get to fuck you? Huh? I get the fuckin' scraps, is that it?"

He doesn't need slurs to tear you down, but on the other hand, Ghost only reveals more of himself with the insults and assumptions he hurls at you.

He's desperate, crying for it, longing to be the one who makes you cry and scream and purr. Be your one and only.

"No," you hum. "I'm all yours, Lt."

He blinks a few times, exhausted lids fall to cover most of his eyes, and the stare tells you he has entered a dreamworld.

"I'm–," he groans with a broken voice. "I'm… Fuck–"

You shiver with ecstasy – his orgasm is a better reward than anything else he could ever give you. He collapses again, even more humiliated than the day before, or the day before that. He doesn't seem to care anymore. His hips press you against the cold sink, and you fear the porcelain is going to break under your combined weight. He doesn't slip out. Instead, Ghost tucks his mask on top of his nose to catch breath.

He has a shadow of a stubble, a stern jaw, and the notion makes your walls pulse. Thin lips part to gasp for air, his blazing chest heaves behind your back, threatens to topple you all over the sink and against the mirror already misty from your mingled heat.

And the mask was lifted for a whole other reason than to catch some precious air.

He presses his lips against your bare neck, breathes you in with mouth slightly open. Pants, like a tormented beast.

"You almost got killed," he whispers on your skin. Your heart leaps, and he still doesn't slip out…

"Took that blast and those bullets f' me."

Your heart flutters; it competes in rapidness with the blinks of your lashes. He's gentleman enough not to raise his head as you swallow some panic.

"Why did you do that?"

You can't tell him it wasn't even that heroic. That the ultimate reason was just to get his attention. To get him to proudly acknowledge what a good, talented little soldier you are. His girl.

The thick, softening heat inside you is too much. It shouldn't be this close, he shouldn't be this close. Tears are not allowed; they would be the end of you. The end of the fucking world. Your doom.

Claustrophobia makes it a shaky business to tiptoe him out of you, to slither and struggle out of his embrace and yank your pants up, fight your way through the cramped space and out of the door.

- - - - - - - - -

He suspects something.

And of course he does: the man is not a clandestine operations expert for nothing.

You usually do this in the morning, knowing you won't get another chance before he steals a moment with you. But this morning, you slept in and know that you're in the biggest danger ever. If he catches you before you're satisfied and immune, you're dead.

Everything's been fucked up ever since you met him. He's like a sickness, and you've fallen ill. You're practically bedridden because of him.

You have to use a toy because your hand is not enough anymore, and you fear that one of these days you will climax while he's inside you.

The funny thing is, you forgot to lock the door.

Maybe it's a subconscious wish – to end this sickness and receive some healing.

And the perfect healer walks in like he owns the place. Owns you.

Your heart shoots up your throat at the sound of a door opening to your most sacred space while you're most relaxed, spread naked on the bed, nipples perked up and pointing to the sky.

You forgot to lock the door…

The chant arises right before he emerges like a dark mountain after opening that weak, thin piece of plywood that separates you from civility and prudence.

You forgot to lock the door you forgot to lock the door–

He freezes the exact moment his eyes hit on you. He's a northern slope that never catches sunlight while you're at your weakest, most vulnerable, leaking around a toy made out of plastic, trembling naked and full of goosebumps from the sudden cold he emits.

"You fuckin' little…"

His chest rises and falls, then he slams the door shut, locks it without ever taking his eyes off you.

He understands the mystery to the full. It unravels before him clear-cut like the steps of a mission he knows by heart before even entering the field. You can't move, can't speak, but you clench around the lifeless substitute of him, far smaller and a thousand times more tame than what he has on offer for you. The throb is simply a reaction to how he looks at you while he realizes the entirety of the childish trick you've managed to pull, a game – some stupid little antics of a stubborn, lovesick girl and nothing more.

"Alright then. Let's hear it."

"Mhm-"

He takes a step, chest puffed up and shoulders wide, eyes burning under the chalked white skull.

"Go on then. Get on wit' it."

You obey like never before. He watches how you push the lavender-colored toy fully inside, up to the hilt, and let out a shy, sad whimper. The first of many cries to come.

Ten soldiers in one man approach your bed, stand tall all around you as you gaze up at him like he's a god. He's panting by the time he gets himself out of his jeans. His eyes scourge you as he takes his cock in hand and starts to pump in sync with you.

He makes more noise than you do at first. You make him falter by changing the speed from slow and languid to shallow and quick. He tries to keep up with you like it's a race, eyes darting from your quivering mouth and wet stare to your soaked pussy.

You sigh and moan, fuck yourself sloppy, dirty, and he looks like he's about to lose his mind and burst.

"Good girl," he says with a charred voice, a soft rasp that hits you with a delicious heat. "Such a good fuckin' girl."

You swallow tears and love, give him moans and sighs, even a high-pitched mewl or two.

Somewhere along the way, you notice you're following his cue and rhythm instead of your own, and the way the angry bulge of his tip disappears into and reappears from his fist dries your mouth right up, makes your eyelids heavy. You're breathless and incoherent, far too close to the mountaintop — already were before the actual mountain even walked through that door.

You have to slow down to brace yourself for the pleasure that swells.

"Oh– oh my god…"

Your sigh is a final admission: how he is a literal god to you. His hand claps against his balls as he pleasures himself, angry as fuck and as relieved as anyone could be when they find out that their heartthrob is just a delightful little minx instead of a cruel, heartless woman.

Everything shakes and quakes and shifts, your insides shudder, your walls grip lavender when they want to grip a man. The skull tilts, the man who compels you is like an avatar of death, but his eyes are hazel longing.

The scream is celestial, wreathed in needy pain, and his shoulders sigh and shake as he watches you come for him.

"Yeah… That's it, fuck that's sweet." He doesn't slow down, quite the opposite: he beats his flesh like a maniac as you slowly but surely come down, squirm on the bed, still clutching the toy as your pussy throbs around it. If it was his cock, you fear the grip would never release him.

"Here comes," he gives an announcement, weak and breathless, rough and mean. Ropes of cum hit your breasts, neck and face, and his eyes are those of a fallen angel. Your chest rises and falls in shock and adoration as he works himself to the last of it, drips of heat dropping on the sheets, the last spurts not powerful enough to reach you from where he is standing.

When he's done, he raises his hand, like the strings of hot lust are some sort of an art piece you're supposed to gawk at.

"There ya go luv," he wipes his hand clean with you, on you. The sticky semen coats you from face to navel, and you half expect him to smear it all over you.

But he doesn't.

He forces the heavy, teary cock back inside the confine of his pants like he's mad at himself and not you.

Then he drops down like a shadow, making you quail again – one hand sinks with a fist on the pillow next to your head, the other sweeps all gentle across your belly and down over your mound. He takes hold of your hand, uses it to ease the toy slowly out while leaning over you, keeping you as a prisoner with his hawklike stare. He pulls more than just the small, harmless toy out of you: a moan or two, a final confession, but he's not pleased. You two are far from even, and he knows it, and he's fucking done. You can see it in his eyes that he's ready to quit.

He leaves you empty and barren, with just a toy to keep you company, heads for the door like a storm cloud.

"Simon…"

He walks away, much slower, but still. Leaves a memory of your shared hate and love on the doorknob as he turns it, as you start to panic.

"Don't leave," you wheeze.

Don't leave me.

Tears prick and burn your eyes as the room turns into a dismal, empty space at the very thought of living without him from this day forward.

"Please."

He opens the door a crack. Probably to let the ghosts out, because after opening it and hearing your heart-wrenching, helpless sob, he closes it.

By the time he turns and walks back to the bed, you're crying like a baby. Finally crying for him, utterly exposed. It's not the way either of you had meant for things to go, it's not the sobbing and wailing he wants.

Still, you expect him to feast on your tears as well, watch with glee how you curl into a fetal position while covered in his cum. You don't want to see it, so you close your eyes before he rapes you with his stare.

"Sweetheart."

But his voice shatters a heart. So tender that it washes over you in waves as you repeat it inside your head like a lullaby.

"Sweetest…" he trails off into somewhere, some obsidian space that stretches out before you, between you, until you cross that space with no effort at all. Meet him in the middle.

"Yes, love..?" Your own shaky voice is a mirror of his compassion as you pledge yourself to him. A warm hand brushes your cheek not seconds after, dries a tear away, adds to the heat that pangs on your face.

You open your eyes to dare a peek up. He has the same wet look in his eyes as he did when he found you in the rubble, bleeding for him.

"You did well today," he says, voice laced with love. You don't know if he means you did well at work or on this bed just now. What makes the praise scary is that it's authentic, the way he adores you with both word and touch. It breaks you into smaller pieces still, and your voice comes out as a needy whimper.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

You hope he would take you in his arms, just the way he did weeks ago. You still remember how it felt to succumb to his warmth and the soft tang of gun oil and smoke that always surrounds him. Now you're only shrouded by the scent of tears and salt.

"Must be due to a good leader," you whisper.

He cocks his head, the hand halts, hovers over you, a last suspicion.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your hands are crossed over your chest, palms on opposite shoulders, shielding you from him. But you open them as he lays down and settles beside you, takes you in his arms, and presses your head to rest on his heart, underneath his chin. The massive palm covers half of your head, but the predatorial weight is gone. He only feels like home.

"Look at you, ya silly little thing… Always gettin' yourself into trouble." He brushes your beef off with a few words and an imply that you're just a blameless, stubborn little thing who he can't be mad at even if he wanted to. And it feels like the sickness finally starts to pass, that it was just an odd inflammation, a passing fever that made you so delirious. You anchor in, slither an arm under his to take support of the bedrock of his back.

He caresses you, makes you sob in his shirt from the sudden overdose of gentleness. His cum dries somewhere between your skin and his clothes as he swallows, then asks you about the mission that went wrong.

"Why did you do it?"

He's not an idiot. Surely he knows why by now. He only wants to hear it because he's stubborn like you, but also in desperate need of love and affection.

"I think you know why." You're exhausted, only able to breathe through your mouth, but the bitterness from your tone is gone. Lost, somewhere in his shirt that smells of ferrous solitude. You wonder what your combined scent, your togetherness, will smell like. It must be something sweet. Promising, like a refreshing summer rain.

"Yeah."

He caresses you slowly now, until his hand comes to rest on top of your head, making sure you won't escape his sanctuary.

"Never do it again," he commands, so soft, voice only a smoked whisper. "Love. I need you to promise me."

"Mh."

"Promise me."

You're feeling sleepy and spent, and he's to blame for it – he simply feels too good. You decide that your first kiss can wait just a little while longer. It's only wonderful; to have something lovely and pure to wait for.

"I promise…"

You drift off to sleep, cradled by the safe slopes of his mountain.

#ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader

1K notes · View notes

soleilceirinen · 3 months

Text

Scaredy Cat | modern!Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: your boyfriend and your cat don't get along, they hate each other. When you have to travel for work and there is no one else to take care of your cat except for Tommy, you can't help but worry. What will you find when you return?

Warning: mentions of past animal abuse (not anymore), the cat gets sick, Tommy swears as usual, etc. If some of this might trigger you, don't read. There are mentions of smut but no real smut.

A/N: English isn't my first language, sorry if there are mistakes!

Peaky Blinders Masterlist - Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Tommy was very good with horses. Sometimes, just to tease him, you liked to call him 'Horse Whisperer Tommy'. He didn't find it funny at all. The truth is that he didn't get along so well with cats.

At least, this man was incapable of getting along with yours. And it was funny because most of the time he reminded you of an angry cat himself, the rest of the time too, being honest. Sometimes, when you were on the couch watching a movie with Tommy lying on your chest and you scratched the back of his head right where his hair was shorter, you would swear you could hear him purring, melting under your touch.

Your cat liked to make things difficult. The first time Tommy stayed over at your house, the cat took the space on the bed between the two of you, making it clear which was her territory and that you were hers. Every time he tried to get closer to you he was met with an outstretched paw that pushed him to the opposite side of the bed. You thought it was funny, he not so much. When you woke up you found Tommy's suit jacket full of orange hairs, crumpled on the floor. To this day the jacket still had traces of cat hair.

Moreover, how could you forget the day when Tommy was working on his laptop from your house and the cat bit the corner of the screen? Needless to say, Tommy couldn't continue working on whatever he was doing, which pissed him off so much, because the device stopped working. Your cat spent the rest of the day with a satisfied expression on her round face.

The rest of the time, the poor creature just hissed at Tommy every time she saw him. Eventually, she ended up accepting that neither of them were going to disappear from your life. At least you hoped it wouldn't happen in a long time.

From the bedroom you heard your boyfriend talking, his deep voice too low to understand his words. You assumed that he would be talking on the phone, always busy with work, even in his sleep he kept mumbling meaningless phrases.

You headed to the kitchen, after a long day at work you couldn't wait any longer to have dinner. Your cat appeared out of nowhere and began to walk between your legs, creating infinity shapes and wrapping her long tail around your calf. You bent down to scratch her belly when she leaned on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

"You're so cute," you said in a childish voice, earning a sideways glance from Thomas, full of resentment.

"Cute my balls," he spat.

The cat looked at you with her eyes wide open, as if she were asking you ‘did you hear what he said?’ You jumped to your feet and put your hands on your hips, looking at Tommy with a raised eyebrow. "May I know what's the matter with you?"

“Your cat, Y/N,” he muttered, turning to you with his hand in front of his face. On the back of it was a deep cut, no, it was a scratch. "Look what the evil’s spawn has done to me."

You glanced at the cat one last time, she looked back at you and licked her paw innocently. Letting out a sigh, you took Tommy's hand in yours to inspect the wound.

"What have you done to make her do this?" you asked cautiously.

He responded with a huff. "Nothing. She came out of nowhere and jumped at me with her claws out."

You nodded in silence and began to disinfect his hand. Your cat was like that, she didn't like men. Actually, she only liked you. Sometimes you wondered if her bad attitude was due to her previous owners, who didn't treat her very well. The thought of someone mistreating your cat filled you with sadness as well as anger. Fucking bastards.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, to him and to her, a tinge of sadness in your voice which didn't go unnoticed to Tommy.

When you finished covering his scratch with a bandaid, Tommy grabbed you hand in his and gave it a loving squeeze before continuing placing the food on the dinner table.

You had always liked animals, when you were little you weren’t allowed to have pets because your brother was allergic to them. So, the moment you got a job in the city and moved out on your own, the first thing you did was go to the nearest shelter to adopt a kitten.

That was the initial idea, to bring a small cat home and raise it. However, when you saw the sad eyes of the orange cat watching you from inside her cubicle, you had the feeling that you were predestined to end up together. She was already an adult cat at that time but that didn't matter to you.

At the shelter they briefly told you that her former owners, whoever they were, had mistreated her and left her abandoned, half dead in a garbage can. A homeless man searching through the trash found her and took her there, where she was taken care of until she luckily recovered. You couldn't be more grateful to that stranger who cared enough to rescue her. Unfortunately, two years had passed since then and no one had wanted to adopt her.

She instantly won your heart. You took her home and named her Cat, like Holly Golightly's cat in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Plus, both of them looked alike. Of course, Tommy complained that it was a ridiculous name for a cat, similar as if he called one of his horses Horse.

A couple of weeks after the scratching incident with Tommy, you were notified that you had to travel to another city for a week on behalf of the company you worked for, which was great because it gave you the opportunity to explore new places. The disadvantage was that your cat was old and had to take a pill every day, for life. You didn't trust anyone to leave them in charge of such a task, but not going on the company trip would mean losing the opportunity to receive a promotion in the coming months. You didn't know what to do but you had an idea.

That night Tommy was going to visit you, so you would make him a suggestion.

After having dinner, Tommy and you started kissing passionately. Everything with him was very intense. His warm, calloused hands ran along your sides under your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps over your soft skin. Your fingertips scratched the shaved sides of his hair and he let out a moan, pressing his lips harder against yours, never breaking the contact.

You were starting to feel his bulge growing against your crotch, so you moved your hips against him, enjoying the friction. Now you were the one who let out a moan of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck as he panted. "Can't you make her leave, or at least make her stop staring at me like that?"

You looked at him slightly confused, following his gaze to the cardboard box where Cat was lying with her head resting on the edge of it, watching you without blinking. It didn't matter how many beds you bought her, none could beat the cardboard box. Rolling your eyes, you placed a hand on your boyfriend's face and caressed his sharp cheekbone, trying to get him to focus on you again.

"Just ignore her. Look at me," you said softly, kissing his jaw.

Tommy pulled away from you and sat on the sofa, running a hand over his face. "I can't, love. She's looking at me, killing my mood." He shrugged, looking sick.

You sighed, mentally saying goodbye to any possibility of Tommy fucking the hell out of you. "How bold she is, daring to look down on the great Thomas Michael Shelby."

He gave you a wide eyed look before frowning. "Are you making fun of me? Hey, where do you think you're going? Taking the beast to another room?"

"I'm going to get some water."

Once in the kitchen you took a couple of deep breaths, gathering the courage to talk to him. It was your opportunity to convince him to stay with Cat. You returned to the living room and sat next to him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

"Tommy, do you remember my work trip?"

He looked at you with a blank face for a few seconds until a spark of knowledge shone at the back of his eyes. "Yes, you're going away for a week. Is that right?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "Can I ask you a favor?"

His expression changed to one of suspicion. Usually you didn't ask for things, you didn't hesitate, so he knew you were about to ask him to do something he wouldn't like.

"It depends".

"You have to come in the morning to feed Cat, but not too much because she eats it all and gets sick," Tommy opened his mouth to complain but you were faster, placing the palm of your hand over his lips before continuing. "At night you come back and give her the pill with a bit of soft food, you have to pay attention and make sure she has swallowed it, okay? Also, change her water, because when she has it for more than a day she won’t drink it."

He gave you a small kiss on the palm of your hand. You removed it and looked at him through your lashes, expectantly.

"Anything else?" he asked, feigning boredom. You smiled. It had been very easy, you hadn't even had to convince him.

"Yes! You have to clean up her cat litter."

The day of your trip, you left everything ready so that when he arrived at night, Tommy would find things easily.

He opened your apartment door and stuck his head in doubtfully, there was no sign of the furry little beast. He was having flashbacks to the last time he stayed over, when Cat started running around the house making weird noises as if she was possessed by Satan himself. Tommy still felt chills remembering how the cat jumped into the bedroom moving sideways with her tail twisted while she howled. You couldn’t stop laughing, used to see your cat doing that almost every day, but Tommy kept saying that he witnessed a demonic possession that night.

But at that moment there were no howls or strange noises. In fact, everything was quiet. One of those silences that he had experienced so many times in his life before. The kind of silence that does not bode well. Tommy squared his shoulders, he wasn't going to get carried away by his superstitious ideas. It was just a cat. He would come in, give her the pill and some water, and then he would leave. Fast and clean.

As he approached the corner where the hallway turned to the left at a ninety-degree angle he stopped. Your cat liked to hide there before jumping like a lion hunting for its prey on Tommy's legs. He still had the scar from the last bite, he didn't want to take another one.

This time he was prepared. With a quick movement he stood on the next section of the hallway. But there was nothing. Frowning and feeling a bit ridiculous, Tommy walked through the house looking for the little beast until he found her lying on the sofa.

The cat was curled up in a ball, her head resting on the armrest. Only her green eyes moved following Tommy's movements as he approached her. She seemed kind of off and Tommy couldn't help but feel a tinge of empathy.

“Do you miss Y/N too?” he asked out loud. The cat blinked weakly. "This place feels weird without her around, huh?"

Tommy didn't know what to expect, some kind of reaction or something. The cat remained still, staring at the wall. He gave her one last glance, shrugging and heading to the kitchen. You had placed a note on the refrigerator door with more instructions, attached with a magnet in a miniature version of the Eiffel Tower that Tommy brought you from Paris.

He ran his fingertips over your handwriting, thinking. He was going to take you to France the next time you had holidays. The rest of the refrigerator was covered with polaroids of you smiling at the camera, the two of you together, you with your friends and family... and the cat.

'Ah yes, the cat.' Tommy remembered, turning around.

The food and water bowls were full, as if she hadn't touched them all day. That was strange, the feeling of something not going right increased. Grabbing a clean bowl, Tommy put some soft food in it and inserted the pill, completely camouflaged, before placing it on the floor in front of the sofa.

"Eat," he indicated authoritatively.

He was a man used to being obeyed in everything, everyone did except you. You were the only one who could handle him like a rag doll and he wouldn’t complain. There was no doubt that this cat was yours, she didn't even look at the food.

Tommy grunted, losing his patience. He grabbed the bowl with one hand and the cat with the other, pushing them together as much as he could. The animal did not resist, after a few minutes a third of the food was gone, including the pill, but she refused to swallow more. "As you wish," he murmured, leaving the remains of food next to the other bowls.

When he looked into the small laundry room where you had the cat's litter box, his heart skipped a beat. Everything was a mess, the floor was full of poop and vomit.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. Then he returned to the living room, ready to give the cat the reprimand of her life but stopped short. He hadn't noticed before but there were also traces of vomit on the living room floor. "Shit."

Just then his phone started ringing. Your name appeared on the screen. He cleared his throat and answered.

"Hello Tommy" your voice sounded happy although somewhat tired. "How are you doing, honey?"

"Good. I gave the pill to the beast, don't worry. Are you okay?" He spoke as fast as he could, trying to move the conversation away from the cat.

"Yeah, it's a little boring you know, all day in meetings and now they want to go to have dinner but I don't feel like going. I haven't been able to call you all day, as you can see I haven't stopped.” You let out a small laugh. ”Hey Tommy, thanks for taking care of Cat. It means a lot to me. I have to go, they came to pick me up. I love you!"

You hung up the call before he could say anything back. Leaving the phone on the coffee table, he walked into the balcony, feeling the cold wind against his skin.

Tommy leaned on the balustrade as he lit a cigarette, smoking slowly. You didn’t like him smoking inside the house, or smoking in general, but that was his problem and you couldn’t change it. This way the balcony became his territory. Once he finished, he went back inside, closing the door behind him. The last thing he needed was the cat jumping out the window.

He started cleaning everything the best he could while debating whether to call you again and tell you everything, that something was wrong with your cat, or try to fix it on his own. Yes, he would do that better. Tommy was a man of resources, he wasn't going to ruin your trip and worry you if he could take care of it.

After making sure everything was clean and the cat had food and water, he left your house, relieved that he wouldn't have to spend another second alone with that animal.

When he returned the next day and found both the food and water intact, he headed to the living room, where Cat was still lying in the same position as the day before. He felt his soul leaving his body.

Tommy swallowed and sat on the couch next to the cat. He approached his hand slowly to touch her soft fur, expecting the cat to hiss like she always did when he got too close to her. That would mean everything was fine. But that didn’t happen, the feline's only reaction was shuddering and letting out a pitiful whimper so soft that if he hadn't been sitting next to her, Tommy wouldn't have heard it.

Shit, shit, shit. He covered his mouth with his hand, his brain working at maximum power. He had to do something. Being aware of how important that cat was to you, if something bad happened to her... he didn't even want to imagine your reaction.

Without wasting another second, he dialed May Carleton’s number, the veterinarian who sometimes treated his horses. After explaining the situation, she told him to bring Cat into the clinic to take a look at her. Tommy picked up the cat in his arms, wrapped in a blanket, and held her to his chest like one does when cradling a baby. The poor thing let him do it, too weak to complain.

The drive from your house to the clinic was frantic, Tommy drove like a madman and once there he skipped the line in the waiting room, entering directly and leaving the bundle on the metal table. "Thomas, you can't sneak in like this," said May while putting on a pair of clean latex gloves.

"It's an emergency," he said, pointing to the metal table.

The vet's expression changed from annoyance to concern the moment she laid her eyes on the poor creature. "Okay, Thomas. I'll take over from here, why don't you wait outside?"

It turned out that she had eaten some plant that's poisonous to cats. This had caused her intestine and some other organs to inflame, or something like that. At least they had discovered it in time to help her.

The first thing Tommy did when he got back to your apartment was throwing away all the plants. The second thing was not taking his blue eyes off from Cat for a minute during the next three days.

At the end of the week you couldn’t wait any longer to go back home. You called Tommy several times but he didn't pick up the phone. Every time you had talked to him in the past few days he always told you that everything was going great. You had a hard time believing it. In about twenty minutes you’ll be home and you could finally hug your baby Cat and take a shower, in that order.

You stopped at the entrance of your home, leaving the suitcase and your shoes next to Tommy’s. He's here after all, you thought. The lights were off, all of them except for the one in the living room. You walked towards there and what you saw made your heart fill with love.

Tommy was on the sofa, fast asleep. Curled against his side was Cat, sleeping too. She was holding Tommy’s hand between her paws. You covered your mouth with your hand, hiding your smile. They were too adorable. Never had you thought the day in which the two of them could get along would come. Seeing them sleeping together seemed like a dream.

You took your phone and started taking pictures of them. The next week you would print one to put it on your fridge door, a new moment to remember.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #modern!tommy shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby fluff #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders modern!au #modern!au #soleilceirinen writes

298 notes · View notes

chrisili · 5 months

Text

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊?

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x fem!reader

Summary: Your childhood best friend starts acting super odd and after a little incident at the train station you actually understand why.

Warnings: Spoilers if you haven’t seen the first and second movie, lots of arguing

Genre: friends to enemies to lovers? Angst? Fluff

Word count: 2,8 k

A.N.: Eh so, I actually thought this story further, like a lot but I don’t know if the rest is worth writing/reading so IF you think this needs another part eh, tell me? But again heads up, no idea if it is worth the time. THANKS FOR READING THIS ANYWAYS!

Masterlist

________________________________________________________

Peter hugged his beloved mother one last time. “Promise me you’ll look after the others,” she said. “I will mum,” he said with a thin voice, eyes shut tight. She loses herself from the hug, smiles at him and nods, “good man.” After having said goodbye to the other three children too, she looked at them all, “alright, off you go.”

Peter and the others grabbed their luggages and started to walk closer to the train they are supposed to go in to. “Peter! Peter!” A small voice cried out, the oldest sibling looked into the direction where the voice was coming from, it was Y/N. Y/N was Peters childhood bestfriend, they went the same way to school everyday, although going to different schools because of their genders. They lived close to each other, played outside a lot and spent their times studying together (Sometimes, because both of them were not very keen on studying anyways).

Y/N stood there with her four brothers, waiting to go into the train too. Peter smiled seeing her as she hurries over, he waves shyly trying to walk up to her. “Peter, what are you doing?” Asked his sister Susan while grabbing his arm. “Just a second, really.” He replied, giving Susan his luggage so she could put it in already. She looked at him annoyed but took it anyways.

Peter and Y/N now stood in front of each other, slightly shouting because of all the noise. “Where are you going?” She asked right away leaning in a little so he would understand better. “Some kind of professor, it’s gonna be boring really.” He said slightly chuckling. “How about you?” “A cook I think, we will probably help out in the kitchen a lot but it’s okay.” Y/N said smiling.

“Y/N come on!” John, one of her younger brothers yelled from the back. She turned around, “Yes I am coming!” She yelled back annoyed. She turned back to Peter and smiled sadly at him. “I hope you will be safe Peter, I am gonna miss you.” He was close to tears for he felt the same thing about her. When she saw that he was trying not to cry in front of her she exclaimed, “Oh Peter!” Hugging him tight with her eyes shut and tears at the corners. He hugged her back tightly, wrapping his arms around her back and crying dryly into her shoulder.

“Y/N COME ON!”

“PETER! HURRY UP!”

They both stopped hugging each other and with one last smile they both ran back to their families. You may be wondering, if they are both going into the same train, why wouldn’t they just say goodbye then? This was not possible due to the fact that the train didn’t have any walkable connections between the wagons. So, both were sitting in different wagons and off the families went. Y/N and her four younger brothers traveled to the mentioned cook and Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy to said Professor. Peters story you obviously know about already, Y/N arrived at a small house with no garden and no play space. They had to help in the kitchen, wash the dishes but keep quiet and under no circumstances touch. The. Food. All five of them in the kitchen, you can imagine it was a little crowded and plates sometimes fell to the ground, shattering with a high pitched sound, with the one dropping it being punished badly.

Y/Ns brothers were all younger than her. John the second oldest being only one year younger than her, 17. Oliver, the middle child, 15. Finn, 12 and the youngest Harry, 10. It was very scary for all of them but it was the scariest for Y/N, taking care of four pubescent boys looks hard already but is worse doing it.

Let’s skip time a little here, after a couple of weeks they all came back to their homes. Obviously having got to go back to school. Y/N was very happy seeing her friend again and of course the other siblings too but somehow Peter had changed over his time at the professor, he seemed more mature and even angrier, prouder and overconfident. I, of course know why he suddenly behaved so strangely having lived in Narnia for the last 15 years but Y/N didn’t and there was no one to tell her. With Peter starting getting into fights, Y/N was kind of scared of him, where was her sweet and funny Peter all of a sudden? They, naturally, grew kind of distant. They still saw each other every morning or on the streets and greeted each other, maybe smiled shortly and then continued their way.

Peter regret deeply where their relationship headed but he couldn’t have told her, she wouldn’t believe him anyways and she would think he was crazy (which she already did to be honest).

Let’s skip a little more to one fine morning, or fight morning. Y/N was close to the train station she had been using for the last years, looking at newspapers and thinking about getting some candy (which she could hardly afford but the thought was still nice). Being caught up in her dreams she only noticed her brother Oliver running up to her when he was already in front of her panting. At first she couldn’t understand what he was saying because of all the huffing but then she did, “John, he is fighting! You have to do something, the other boys are way bigger than he is!” Without having fully registered what her brother had said she was already dragged down the station. Oliver could of course, like Edmund did, help his brother too but he was a very gentle and calm soul and had no interest in fist fights.

Running down the stairs Y/N saw a lot of people in front of her blocking the view. But after some tip toeing she saw her brother, Edmund and Peter fighting against a bunch of older boys. Thankfully a police officer tore them apart and Y/N squeezed her way down to her brother. After John was done talking to the officer, Oliver and Y/N walked up to him, not very far from the other two troublemakers (Edmund and Peter) sitting on chairs by the wall.

“What on earth is wrong with you?!” Y/N exclaimed while hitting her brother with the newspaper on his head. He rubbed his head slightly, still full of adrenaline and anger from the former fight. “Nothing is bloody wrong with me! These guys attacked Peter and I helped him, that’s it.” Hearing Peters name made her slightly angry, she glanced over to Peter who was still sitting in his chair, his blonde hair slightly over his face, looking back at her. She immediately looked back at her brother with an angry face.

“It was Peters fight then, not yours!” She said in a loud voice.

“So what? Edmund helped too!” John replied with an even louder voice, almost screaming.

“That doesn’t matter at all! Edmund is Peters brother, you aren’t!” She yelled at him.

“I wish I was!” Yelled John back, almost running away with fury.

Oliver looked back and forth between his two siblings, unsure what to do but when John hurried away, he looked at Y/N and she just nodded saying he should go with him. Y/N sighed heavily looking to the ground, she picked up her suitcase and walked away too.

“Y/N!” Peter yelled from behind, now standing hoping she would stop. She did. She also turned around slightly and looked at her former best friend, she was annoyed. “What?” She said almost rolling her eyes at him. He walked closer now with small steps, almost like approaching a deer. Y/N turned around fully now, facing Peter with her heavy suitcase in her left hand and the newspaper in her right one. “I am sorry okay? I didn’t want him to fight on my behalf either, I would have told him to leave but that’s not really possible while being kicked in the face.” He said trying to smile a little at the end.

“Not hard enough…” she mumbled.

“What was that?” He asked not having fully understood her.

She just shook her head and looked into his eyes and for the first time in a year she realized how much he had actually changed. His face and especially his jaw was a lot sharper, his face was slightly longer and had matured a lot. His blonde hair was longer and it looked gorgeous on him. Having noticed how handsome he actually was she started to blush slightly, then she shook her head again trying to free herself out of his trance. The other three siblings thought about interfering but they were too amused by the drama.

“I said not hard enough! It doesn’t matter if you wanted him to be with you or not, if you hadn’t picked up a fight in the first place, he would have not been involved!” Y/N said with a firm voice, she knew her argument hardly made sense but she was angry and she hated Peters beautiful hair. He looked at her stunned, “didn’t you hear what John said? They attacked me first!”

“And god forbid you’d just walk away!” She said with the same amount of anger as Peter did.

“I shouldn’t have to!” He said trying to stay calm.

“You know what Peter, do whatever you want, I don’t care. I really don’t but at least don’t stop me, then try to apologize to me and then be angry at me anyways! Because I am done with this! Ow.” She said while turning around having felt that someone or something had pinched her. Peter looked at her confused, not even a second later Lucy felt the same thing and yelled at Susan, “OW!”

“Quiet, Lu.” Susan said calmly, looking at her sister.

“Something pinched me!” Said Lucy back, pointing at the wall.

“Hey! Stop pulling!” Exclaimed Peter turning to Edmund as he had suddenly felt the same thing, Edmund raised his hands a little in defense, “I am not touching you.”

Y/N looked at them confused and a second later the wind in the train station seemed to pick up immensely. Papers flew around, the light started to flicker and all of their hairs and clothes blowing around.

“It feels like magic.” Lucy said excited looking at Susan.

“Quick, everyone hold hands.” Said Susan after grabbing Lucy’s and Y/N’s hand. Y/N thought this was a bit silly and she didn’t want to hold Peter’s hand but she did it anyways. Edmund having a very similar feeling to Y/N just yelled, “I’m not holding your hand,” at Peter. “Just…” Peter blurred out and grabbed his brothers hand while feeling slightly warm because of Y/N’s hand in his left hand.

The five of them stood there in the train station and in the next moment they were on the beach. A beautiful white beach with the bluest water Y/N had ever seen, the other four just started to undress and run into the water laughing. Y/N didn’t pay too much attention to them, she just looked around the scenery not understanding in the slightest where she was or what just happened. When Peter looked at Y/N he walked over to her, sand on his bare feet and his shirt wet.

“You like it?” He asked her smiling from behind, he was just so incredibly happy to be back so that he barely noticed Y/Ns shocked face. She didn’t turn around, she just looked up the mountain to Cair Paravel or anyways what was left of it. “That’s not- I don’t- Where are we and why are you not freaked out, like at all?” Peter came closer standing beside her looking up to Cair Paravel too. “Because we’ve been here before.”

Later they explained everything to her, about them being kings and queens, about the white witch, Aslan, Tummnus, the beavers, the 100 years lasting winter, the wardrobe, the professor and everything else not leaving one single detail out of the story. Y/N was clearly confused and had to think about all the information she just gathered.

Peters thoughts were right, if Y/N hadn’t been magically ported to Narnia herself she would have not believed a single word but now she actually considered it.

Even later they had realized that the ruins they currently walked in had been their old castle, Cair Paravel. They found old chests and Y/N slowly understood why Peter had been so different over the last year. That night, all five of them tried to sleep in the castle ruins but Peter, he was sitting by the edge of the mountain, his legs close to his body and his head resting on his knees.

(For a better experience you could listen to Merry Christmas – Piano Version by Flying Fingers on Spotify starting now! :) )

“You know, you should really sit back a little, you might fall down.” Y/N said appearing behind Peter and sitting beside him, only a little further from the edge. He smiled at her a little tired and then kept looking straight forward into the night sky.

“I am sorry.” He said not looking at her.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“No angry remark or anything?” She asked him extra dramatic as a joke.

He just scoffs, “stop it, I am not nearly as aggressive as you claim me to be.”

Y/N just slightly laughs. “True… I am sorry too. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did.”

“You had every right. You didn’t know, I should have been the one to tell you instead of just going around and acting like a king.”

“Yeah about that, am I supposed to call you ‘your majesty’ now?” Y/N said slightly laughing and Peter joined her. “I would be delighted if the beautiful lady Y/L/N just called me by my regular name.” He said in a jokingly kingly tone and they laughed again.

“Beautiful huh?” She said nudging his arm slightly with hers and he smiled at her nodding.

“Certainly, lady Y/L/N you must be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” He said bravely as the high king he is but Y/N got slightly flustered and turned her face to the front, away from Peter.

“Well you’re not the only one with good eyesight. Earlier at the train station… I thought you looked really handsome. I must have been too caught up in my own world to notice how handsome you’ve gotten in the past year.” That said he looked at her a little stunned and she quickly added, “not that you weren’t handsome before! It’s just I haven’t seen you in a while, at least not really and I was just surprised and why aren’t you stopping me?” She whined while rambling on and on.

Peter smiled at her again, “I appreciate it. I- I- Can I- Can I… kiss you?”

He said all of a sudden which may seems weird to you but you have to understand that both of them were in the most beautiful setting in the whole universe. The stars being much brighter in Narnia in the sky with the clearest beach in front of them on a little mountain, a slight breeze rushing through their hair. Having just reconnected with your best friend you had liked in a romantic way for forever, you would feel very similar to what they felt, happy.

Y/N just bit her lip, not in an erotic way. It looked more like a smiling donkey, she was just as happy and overwhelmed with feelings as he was and she nod her head up and down while smiling still. He touched her left cheek so softly that he almost didn’t feel it at all, then he leaned into her also smiling and they kissed each other, eyes closed and heads slightly tilted. It was a short but intense kiss for none of them had ever felt so safe in their entire life. Their foreheads rested against each other and with their eyes still closed they both laughed into the night.

555 notes · View notes

hyunfilms · 7 months

Text

connected (hhj) | one shot.

—summary: a night alone at the bar leads you to a beautiful man named hyunjin.

—pairing: hwang hyunjin x f. reader

—genre: (18+) strangers to lovers | fluff, smut

—word count: 5.6k

—content/warnings: love at first sight kinda thing? soulmates if you really squint, was kinda inspired reading yung pueblo's poem (his poem isnt available anymore rip), cussing, model/artist hyunjin, oc and hyunjin are completely enamored by each other & hyunjin got googly eyes hehe, he is very sweet and a gentleman though, alcohol consumption, intoxication, kisses/making out, protected sex, praising, oral (f. receiving), fingering, sprinkle of spit play, ass-smacking, breast play, sprinkle of choking, missionary, doggy style 🤓 woof, multiple orgasms (like 2 lol), after care and cuddles, lightly edited so i apologize if i miss anything!!, very self-indulgent and just something i needed to write out 😭

—ON ROTATION: fwm - tone stith / for us - v

Sleepless nights.

It’s another one of those sleepless nights— for him, for her, for many people, for you.

Your business trip to Paris was coming to an end tonight; an early AM flight scheduled in the morning to bring you back to your beautiful, but also mundane life in California. Although grateful for the opportunity to travel here and explore for a week and a half, you were ready to get back to the familiar. The familiar places, the familiar faces, familiar routine. You sigh at the thought, finishing up your cocktail at the bar while scrolling through social media.

“Another one, miss?” The bartender comes to you with a small smile on his face.

“Please. Thank you.” You nod and reciprocate the smile, eyes now glancing around the room as you feel the alcohol slowly running through your veins. The bar was beautifully decorated in dark, elegant decor, lights dimmed throughout the entire room. Luckily for you, your hotel room was only a few floors up— making it incredibly easy for you to enjoy yourself and let loose; something you haven’t been able to do while being bombarded with coworkers and a tight agenda.

Your eyes fall onto the couple just a table or two away. They’re enjoying their drinks, though their eyes say they’re bored and over each other with the way they can’t keep eye contact for longer than 2 seconds. Then, your eyes fall onto the lady in the far corner who is typing furiously away on her phone. Your eyes shift to the gentleman all the way down on the other end of the bar, repeatedly looking down at his watch before bringing the phone to his ear for the umpteenth time; probably waiting on a date that never showed up when they said they would.

“Whiskey on the rocks, please?” Your eyes now fall onto the tall, attractive man that slides into the empty seat next to you— setting his bag onto the surface before letting out a heavy sigh. He’s in a black sweater, slacks and black chelsea boots, and you can’t help but notice how everything sits on his figure so, so perfectly. Hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, a few bangs framing the sides of his face; freshly shaved undercut. His tongue quickly swipes the surface of his pink, plump lips before he thanks the bartender and sips on his drink— you’re sure you’ve never seen anybody so perfectly sculpted.

Was this a cruel joke?

“Your cocktail, miss.” You thank the bartender again before shyly sipping on your second glass of the night, trying to keep to your own space.

“Sorry, hope someone wasn’t sitting here already.” He suddenly says, making you turn towards him. There’s really no one else around but you two; perhaps, another individual a few seats down, and that gentleman at the end still waiting on his date.

“Oh, um. No.” You give him a toothless smile. “You’re good.”

“Cool.” Is all he says before chugging the whiskey in his glass, asking for another round. “It’s been a long night. Wanna take a shot with me?” He turns to you again, licking his lips yet again. “No pressure.” You keep your eyes on him as you think about your next move. He is an attractive man, a harmless one at that.

It’s your last night in Paris, what do you have to lose?

“Sure.” You shrug. “Why not?”

“Nice to know you’re down.” He laughs a bit before calling the bartender and asking for two shots. “What’s your poison?”

“Tequila.” He pokes his bottom lip out before nodding in agreement.

“Two shots of tequila it is, then.”

“Didn’t you just down some whiskey? That’s a little dangerous.” He laughs before turning in his seat to face you.

“Don’t worry about me sweetheart, I’m staying here.” Crazy, you think. Out of all the times to bump into someone who is also staying at this hotel. “What about you?”

“I’m here, too.” You sip on your drink some more.

“Then we’ll enjoy it.” He flashes his pearly whites when he smiles. “Hyunjin.” He holds out his hand.

“Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He caresses the surface of your hand with his thumb just as the bartender comes back with two shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila. The bartender points to your cocktail with a smirk.

“Need a refill to wash down the tequila, or do you need something else?”

“I should be good. Thanks.” He winks before tending to the others down the line.

“So, Y/N. Where are you from?”

“California. What about you?”

“Seoul.”

“Nice. One of my friends moved there recently.” You quickly think about Lola, hoping she’s doing okay. Mental note to send her a message on Kakao later. “What brings you here?”

“Mm, probably the same reason as you.” Hyunjin smirks.

“Work?” He nods.

“See. Already have something in common.” You chuckle a bit, biting onto your bottom lip. “How long are you here for?”

“I’ve been here for close to two weeks. I’m heading back tomorrow morning.”

“Shame.” He does a slight head tilt. “We probably could have had fun exploring together.” You cock an eyebrow up before letting out a giggle.

“You think I’d be fun to explore with? A stranger?” Hyunjin grabs his shot glass while gently pushing yours over to you.

“I mean, you were down to take a shot with me. Why wouldn’t you be?” He raises his shot glass. “Cheers, Y/N.” You take your shot glass and tap it against his, the both of you taking the shot to the neck. Hyunjin makes a face [that probably mirrors yours right now] before sipping on a soda as chase. You squint your eyes as the burn lingers down your throat, immediately reaching for your cocktail to chase the rest down— which is definitely not the best choice of action here.

But, you’re enjoying the night. The last night.

With a beautiful, beautiful man next to you.

“Atta girl.” He laughs.

“Haven’t done that in awhile.”

“Feels kinda liberating in a sense, hm?” He teases. “Since I’m working with a deadline here, let’s get another round going while you tell me about yourself.”

“Another?”

“Last. Promise.” He winks.

“Hm.” You hum. “What can I tell you?” You ask, even though you mainly mean that question for yourself. What can you tell Hyunjin that is enough, and not too much?

“Why someone like you doesn’t have anyone by your side tonight?” He shrugs. “Or, anything. Everything, really. That works, too.” Hyunjin runs his finger along his bottom lip.

“Someone like me? Are you always this forward?” You tilt your head, already starting to feel the shot and cocktail. You like the way his eyes are glued on you, you like the way he says your name. You like the way he’s being forward, you like the way he looks tonight. You like him, you take interest in him.

He is exciting.

“No, but it’s the deadline.” He reminds you, making you snort.

“Well. It’s because I just don’t have anyone by my side in general.” You answer his question with a chuckle. “Just a 24 year old in tech, visiting their Paris office for another project.” You swirl the stirrer in your cocktail. “What about you? What brings you here?”

“Just a 23 year old dabbling in some art stuff. Some Fashion stuff.” He laughs, red tint coloring the surface of his cheeks just as the bartender brings another round of tequila shots. “Nothing too fancy.”

‘It sounds fancy.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” He answers with another one of his cryptic responses, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ready for round two?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” You mock him and he laughs, passing your shot glass.

“Cute.” He taps his shot glass against yours, giving you a nod of acknowledgment before you two are repeating the process— knocking the shot back, relieving the burn with some sort of chase, giggling at how quick the alcohol is hitting you both. You are drunk, and you should’ve eaten a bit more before this. Fuck. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“If you couldn’t tell already, I think you’re really, really pretty.”

“Is that so?” He nods cutely, and it makes you laugh.

“Mhm. So I mean it when I say I wanna know all about you.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” He shakes his head.

“Nah.” He smiles, bottom lip in between his teeth as he eyes your features. “So, what is Y/N all about?” He sits back a bit while his gaze lingers on you, your eyes. The tip of your nose. Your lips. Your long, beautiful lashes.

He is paying attention to every word that slips from your lips, watching your hand gestures as you quickly explain your family dynamics and how you’ve grown up in a quiet household— always remaining quiet, shy and kept to yourself even until this day. You tell him about your friends back home, how you love to stay at home and be a homebody, how you occasionally find the energy to haul yourself out for long, but fun nights with your girls. You also [drunkenly] stumble upon the topic of exes, which you don’t normally open up about right away. But you’re a few shots in, and it doesn’t help that Hyunjin is actually showing interest in you.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, and he doesn’t plan to.

“Yeah, we’re not really friends or anything like that anymore.” You blabber on. “He blocked me everywhere. Which, you know—” You hiccup, a bit more drunk than you were 5 minutes ago. “I kinda don’t care because he shouldn’t be asking to look through my phone every time I go out. I fucking left after that. No sir, not me. No thanks.” Hyunjin laughs, endeared by how quick you’ve opened up to him. He appreciates it, and he does enjoy the way you talk about life; even if you may view it as simple, quiet.

“You’re right for having left him.” Hyunjin leans forward a bit. “It’s not fair, especially when you’ve never given him a reason to distrust you. You deserve better than that.”

“You think so?” You chuckle.

“Mhm.”

“Sorry, I totally went off and probably told you a lot more than you should know at this point.” He shakes his head. “What about you, Hyunjin?”

“No, I like hearing you talk. You’re very cute.” He laughs. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Really? I think you are.” You rest your chin on the palm of your hand.

“Yeah?” He smirks. “I just paint. A lot. I do some photoshoots. That’s all.”

“So are you like .. an artist, or something? A model?” He shrugs.

“I’m just Hyunjin.” He smiles. “But, I guess so? You can say that. I don’t have lots of friends, people oddly find me intimidating but I don’t care much to fix that either. I do stick to a few of them, we hang out often. I haven’t dated in awhile either, wasn’t really a priority for me.”

“Why did your last relationship end?” You internally curse yourself for fixing on that one detail out of everything else he’s mentioned. But, he doesn’t seem to mind. Spoiler: he doesn’t.

“Just didn’t click well like we thought we would.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiles.

“Don’t be. I like where I’m at.”

“That’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah. Especially right now.” You cock a brow up, head tilting to the side again.

“Right now?”

“Mhm, with you. A few shots and drinks down, pondering on life. My kinda evening. Makes me not regret a thing about coming here.”

“You’re funny.”

“And you’re pretty.” He licks his bottom lip and bites onto it. His hand is only a few inches away from yours, pinky dying to reach out and pull your hand into his— wanting to playfully lace his fingers with yours. He’s not sure what it is, but he was drawn to you from the very moment he stepped into the bar. He smiled a bit to himself when he saw you people-watching, keeping to yourself as you sipped your drink and continued to scroll through your phone. You were totally oblivious to him from the beginning, and that was okay. Hyunjin wanted to quietly slip himself into the equation and find more subtle ways to talk to you, get to know you.

And he doesn’t regret a fucking thing.

He might be drunk, but he means it. He hasn’t ever felt this comfortable with a stranger, someone he met not too long ago. And that says a lot for him; it says a lot about you, your character. Meanwhile, you don’t think you’ll ever understand how someone like Hyunjin decided to waltz in and take this seat next to you at the time that he did. You’ll never understand the timing of everything, how the universe works and why it had to be a beautiful man like Hyunjin who found you first. But, you also don’t regret a damn thing, and you’re glad you decided to head to the bar tonight— especially alone.

When you meet Hyunjin’s eyes, it’s obvious that he’s feeling something— but that’s not the problem, no. You’re dying to find out what it means for the both of you tonight, how he plans to show you. Because you know he will, and that’s where the problem lies. What happens after that? When you both go along your merry ways?

“You know.. I think I’m just gonna call it a night soon.” You want to find out, but you don’t know if it’ll be good for you.

“Yeah?” You stand but find yourself stumbling on your own feet, letting out a laugh when you try to grab your things and keep yourself together. “Woah, pretty lady.” Hyunjin laughs with you. “How about I walk you to your room?” You pause. Fuck it.

“Okay, yeah. That’d be nice.”

“Alright, let me just pay for our tab—” He gives the bartender a look and gestures to close out the tab, his card already in his hand.

“What, no! Hyunjin.” You wrestle with your own wallet. “Let me pay for my own drinks.”

“Nah, I got you. On me.” He smiles sweetly. “Please.” You let out a sigh and surrender, letting him pay for the drinks before he stands and slips his card back into his wallet.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. For being good company.” He gives you a toothless smile. “So, where to?”

“10th floor?”

“After you.” He bids the bartender one last farewell before following you out of the bar and out into the hotel lobby. His eyes can’t help but linger down your figure; eyeing that tight, itty bitty off-the-shoulder dress and the way it hugs your curves, black over-the-knee boots hugging your legs nicely.

Ain’t no way you were just planning on sitting at the bar looking that fine.

“Hyunjin?” You call for him as you both stand in front of the elevator doors, and he’s snapped out of his thoughts. “You don’t actually have to walk me. I can make it in one piece.” You giggle.

“Leave you alone while drunk? I don’t think so.” He chuckles.

“Hm.” You hum, eyes fixed on the elevator doors in front of you. Hyunjin stands right behind you— inches away, just close enough to feel the heat radiate from his body. When the elevator dings, Hyunjin gently presses his hand against the small of your back; pushing you forward into the elevator. The touch itself brings tingles down your spine, enough where it has you struggling to keep your composure. You lean against the back railing, while Hyunjin stands next to you— hand resting on the rail as he faces your direction. Your eyes meet his, and you feel yourself get weak in the knees;

So weak that your phone slips out of your hands, making a loud thud against the floor.

“Oops, shit.” You mutter.

“I got it.” Hyunjin laughs, bending down to grab your phone. You can’t help but watch his every move closely, watching as he bends down, large hand grabbing at your phone. He’s way too close to your legs at one point, and your mind wanders to what it would be like if he were in between— “Think that belongs to you, miss.” He teases, standing tall as he hands you your phone. “You sure you’re good?”

“I am.” Except, not. Because the elevator is ten times hotter than it was earlier, and it seems to be taking its sweet ol’ time getting to your floor. The tension is unreal.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?” You pause as you look at him.

“I mean, has anyone ever told you how attractive you are?” You blurt out, alcohol definitely giving you that liquid courage to say anything and everything that’s currently running through your mind. “You just.. look like that.” He laughs.

“I could say the same for you, pretty. Trust me.” He leans forward towards your ear a bit, his scent lingering and trapping you in. “You wanna know something else?”

“Hm?”

“You make it very hard to not wanna kiss you.” He pulls back a bit to read your expression— almost like he’s giving you leverage to take it and run with it, or leave it. Everything in your court.

So, you choose.

And you choose by gently grabbing at his sweater, planting your lips on his for that first, initial kiss. His lips are soft and pillowy, just like you imagined. You only pull away a few inches, eyes darting from Hyunjin’s eyes, to his lips, back up to his eyes. He chases after your lips within the next minute, hand coming up to cup you by the neck; thumb caressing your cheek. At this point, you’re stuck to Hyunjin— lips seemingly not wanting to part from his. And you’re loving every bit of it so, so much.

You’re loving every bit of it so much that you don’t even care when the elevator takes a stop, doors sliding open for the man who was patiently waiting on the other side. He eyes the both of you before keeping his distance, positioning himself closer to the doors while scrolling through his phone. Hyunjin lets out a soft sigh in between kisses, completely wrapped up in your scent, your touch— you.

You’ve barely met, but right now, it feels like the world is at a stop; like it’s just you and Hyunjin at this moment in time. You’ll never understand it.

“Fuck.” He whispers against your lips before moving near your ear. “You’re driving me crazy.” He plants a soft kiss on your cheek before navigating back down to your lips. His other hand comes to your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze before his finger teases the edge of your dress— Hyunjin keeping the kiss alive with your hands still gripping at his sweater. His hand travels around to give your ass a quick squeeze before pressing you flush against him; to be close to him, to feel him.

And god, do you feel him.

He takes this moment to tug on your bottom lip, making you let out a sigh. The man who stepped into the elevator is now a long-gone thought, no longer caring about his presence or the fact that he’s a mere couple of steps away from you two. But finally, the elevator dings again and flashes a bright ‘10’ on the screen. Hyunjin quickly pulls away to check the current floor before slipping his hand into yours and leading the way out of the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the both of you erupt in a fit of giggles while leading the way down the hallway to your room. As you fiddle with your bag and try to fish for your hotel keycard, Hyunjin plants feathery kisses along your neck, down to your shoulder— his fingers still teasing the edge of your dress.

“Finally.” You pout, making Hyunjin laugh before placing another kiss near your jaw. As soon as you step inside the room, you toss your bag aside and wrap your arms around Hyunjin’s neck, legs around his waist. He carries you deeper into the room, setting you down on the edge of the bed to continue kissing you. In between kisses, he works his way with your boots; gently sliding the zipper down before tossing one boot off to the side, then the next.

“This dress.” He gently pushes you down on the bed before peppering kisses along your thighs. “So perfect on you.” He nibbles on your inner thighs, then soothes the surface with his lips. “Can’t believe no one was trying to snatch you up.”

“Maybe it’s just meant to be, hm?” You tease with a playful tone. Hyunjin pauses and looks at you, a smile teasing at the corner of his lips before he comes down and presses another sweet kiss to your lips.

“Maybe I’m just lucky after all.” You feel his hand fiddling with the edge of your dress again, slowly dipping further. “You know, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can totally—” A kiss. “Just hang out and talk more—” Another kiss.

“Hanging out and talking more—” Kiss. “Sounds good to me.”

“Mhm.” He pulls away and looks at you, really looks at you, before brushing the hair away from your face. “I mean it. I don’t normally do things like this. I just— I don’t know.” He chuckles a bit. “I’ve been drawn to you since I walked into that bar.” It’s your turn to look at him, really look at him, and you do nothing but pull him back to your lips.

“Please keep going.” Is all you manage to say. Because you are also drawn to him, and you’ll never understand it.

But right now, you don’t want to try and understand it. You just want to take this moment for what it is, for everything that it is.

The intensity grows during the heated kiss, and Hyunjin is back to slotting himself in between your thighs, dress now pushed up.

“Can I?” He asks, and you nod— giving him full permission to remove your panties and toss them off to the side; feet propped up on the bed to give Hyunjin the best view. He doesn’t waste any time before he’s running his thumb down your slit, sliding two fingers in just to get a feel for you. He bites onto his bottom lip, reveling in the soft moans you’re letting out. “So wet for me.” He says before licking a stripe upwards, feeling your legs slightly jolt at the sensation. “Gonna take care of you.” He reassures you by running a hand up your thigh and gently squeezing it. He laps at your folds, sucking gently at the sensitive nub before repeating his motions and pumping his digits into you at a set pace.

“My god.” You whimper, hands resting on Hyunjin’s head. A gasp falls from your slips when Hyunjin removes his fingers and spits on your pussy, tongue spreading your wetness all over. You continue to grind against his mouth, picking up the pace when you feel yourself reaching your peak. The way he was taking care of you was heaven sent; incredibly heaven sent that with just another roll or two, Hyunjin manages to push you over the edge. “Oh— yes!” You blurt out as you come undone, your entire body going limp while catching stars.

Hyunjin soothes you through small pecks on your thighs, through gentle squeezes of the hips. He stands and hovers over you, giving you a taste of yourself when he leans in for a kiss— holding the kiss there momentarily. When you part, he watches as you take his hand, tongue circling around the two fingers that were just inside of you. He swears he almost loses himself at that moment, but he manages to keep himself together. Hyunjin moves you up on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable in between the tiny kisses he plants all over your body.

Chest.

Hands, fingers.

Collarbone, neck.

Lips.

He’s stripping you of your dress, just as you help him out of his sweater, his slacks. His eyes widen when he pops off your strapless bra, letting out a shaky breath before taking a nipple into his mouth— tongue working in circular motions and pulling back with a pop. You arch your back slightly and let out a moan, Hyunjin taking this opportunity to move onto the next bud and repeating the motion on it. You tease at the waistband of his boxers before he wrestles himself out of them; dick painfully hard and springing free. He lets out a moan when he feels your hand wrap around his member, pumping him a few times and watching the pre-cum leak from his tip.

“Need you.” He breathily moans. “Need you now, pretty.”

“Here.” You pause, grabbing the single condom from your bag on the nightstand. Hyunjin leans back on his ankles, laughing at the box you’ve handed over.

“So, why do you have this?” He smirks as he rips the condom open and begins to slide it down his length.

“Quit. My bestfriend shoved it in my bag as a ‘just in case.’”

“Tell them I said thank you.” You giggle.

“Shut up.” Hyunjin bites his lip before diving in for another kiss. Even as he breaks the kiss, his lips continue to graze yours as he lines himself up at your entrance— eyes glued to yours as he slips himself in slowly. He watches your eyes roll back and shut close, back arching; a silent moan leaving your lips. He continues to push, and push, until he bottoms out and lets out a shaky breath; giving himself a moment to adjust and keep his composure.

God, you feel good around him.

“Fuuuuck.” He moans. “Feels too good. So perfect.” He begins to slowly pick up the pace, hearing your slickness make those noises beneath him that drive him insane. You grip onto his chiseled biceps, pretty white polished nails digging into the surface of his skin. At this point, Hyunjin has found the perfect rhythm— sinking into you every thrust, feeling every inch, every delicate point that he can touch.

Deeply.

“Hyunjin, god. Please.” You whine and beg continuously, calling his name as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. The only sounds in the room are the sounds of skin against skin, wet kisses being exchanged in between and your names bouncing off of the walls.

“I got you.” Hyunjin feels you squeezing him, and it’s taking everything within him not to burst. He takes a hand to your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze, watching your tits bounce with every thrust he gives.

And he gives it all.

He sits back for a moment when he sees you starting to move your hips and ride against his movements. Another moan slips from his lips when he watches you roll your hips and work him from beneath, hissing when you speed it up.

“Such a good girl.” He says. Your moans become a little sharper, a little louder, Hyunjin now taking his thumb to your clit to relieve some of the tension. You begin to whimper, your nails digging a little deeper, and Hyunjin can feel your walls starting to cave. He continues his work on your clit before he's back to fucking you senselessly into the mattress.

“Right there— Hyunjin—” Your words are broken as you try to chase your high. “Close—”

“That’s it, pretty.” He says, praising you and egging you to tip over the edge. It takes a few more before Hyunjin sees your face contort in pleasure, back arching just as you tremble underneath him. “Shit, that’s it.” He repeats, feeling your walls pulse against him. He feels himself getting close to his own climax, so he quickly pulls out and has you flip over— face down, ass up. He wastes no time slipping himself back in, continuing at the pace he was just at even though you were still trying to recover from your last orgasm. Though a bit sensitive, the pleasure rebuilds quickly, and you’re back to begging Hyunjin to go harder.

Faster.

Which, he gladly does. He gives your ass a good smack, leaving his print while letting out a groan and gripping your hips. He calls your name, praising you for how good you’ve been to him tonight and how lucky he is.

“Y/N, fuck— gonna cum.” He breathes out, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he feels his coil threatening to snap. Sooner or later, a beautiful, melodic moan slips from his lips, his hands digging crescents into your hips as he falls onto you and fills up the condom. “You okay, pretty?” He presses a soft kiss on your back, your right shoulder.

“Mhm.” He removes himself from you, the both of you letting out soft sighs at the feeling. Hyunjin tosses the condom in the trash before racing off to the bathroom.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He says as he grabs for one of your wipes sitting in the bathroom, cleaning you up before himself. You shyly head to the bathroom to finish up and change into something more comfortable— slipping into the covers while Hyunjin throws on his boxers. You’re not really sure what’s next, and to be honest, you’re a little unsure of how to navigate this whole one-night-stand thing.

Because of course you’ll have to. You leave tomorrow. This is the first and last time you’ll see Hyunjin.

It makes you a bit sad, for whatever reason.

“I-I hope you know you aren’t obligated to stay, I know you must wanna go back to your room—” He laughs a bit and turns to you.

“How about I stay until you fall asleep, hm? That sound okay with you?” Yes, yes it does. You want him here, and you want to cherish every last bit of this tender, intimate moment that you’ve shared with someone you connected with hours ago.

“Okay.” He slips himself in, comfortable in his boxer briefs and nothing else. You find this to be the cherry on top; the way Hyunjin pulls you in and allows you to lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat beneath you, the way he lazily throws an arm over you but keeps you close, the way that he just lets you be.

Hyunjin is connected to you. He is drawn to you.

The combination of the alcohol and exhaustion is now pushing you to fall asleep quickly in Hyunjin’s arms. He manages to close his eyes, afraid to move you or wake you— wanting you to get the best sleep possible before your flight tomorrow. You’ll never understand this. But tonight, you won’t try to. Because you’ll take this for what it is, for everything that it is.

You are connected to Hyunjin. You are drawn to him.

Hyunjin wakes up and finds your side of the bed cold, empty. Which tugs a bit on his heart, but he knew this is what it would come to— being it was your last night, and the two of you lived on opposite ends of the world. He honestly didn’t mean to stay last night, but he couldn’t help himself after seeing how peacefully you were sleeping. He’s not sure he understands it well enough, but he still feels drawn to you; even now, as you board your plane and take your seat in business class. He finds a tiny note on the nightstand with your name and number, and he smiles to himself— making sure to keep the note safe.

Hyunjin keeps the note safe for awhile. Safe to the point where he doesn’t do much with it besides look at the number every now and then before tucking it back into his wallet. He can’t find the courage to text you, call you, because he’s not sure what is left of you two after that night. What would he do from Seoul? What would you do from California?

It’s unfortunate, and Hyunjin really hates it. He’s not sure when he’ll use this. And of course, over time, you’ve wondered what you did, or why Hyunjin didn’t make use of your number. Though, part of you understood where he was coming from. So, you eventually learn to let it be.

Maybe there wasn’t a use for it, for all of this.

Maybe it was supposed to be a one-night thing, a memorable, one-night thing. A one-night thing that you keep for the memories, a one-night thing that you keep close to your heart– Hyunjin.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Hyunjin keeps the note safe for a while. Safe to the point where he doesn’t do much with it besides look at the number every now and then before tucking it back into his wallet.

Until months later, Hyunjin finds himself thinking about your note just as he steps onto the concrete floor and takes in the fresh air—

Eyes shifting to the California sunrise ahead of him.

—perm taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk

538 notes · View notes

obsessedfics · 5 months

Text

Soft Rain: Gojo Satoru x Reader (SMUT! Mature/Explicit) Part 1

I want to first say I usually try to find a photo that fits the aesthetic of the story but this one was way too good to walk away from. Everyone enjoys this gem <3. Also, this fic because it's too damn long is split up into two parts. Part 2 is already up and will be linked at the bottom of this page.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Rating: Mature/Explicit (Sexual scenes)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Summary: You are in a coffee shop one rainy day when a sad beautiful stranger enters. Slowly, you open up to each other in the warm confinement of the cafe. Little did you know that you would fall in love with this man, and he with you.

I wrote this from the perspective of seeing Satoru with his barriers down. No masks, no facades, just him when he's alone with his haunting thoughts. I wanted to give him a more human perspective and touch on some of the things that plague his mind. I know I have been MIA for quite some time, if you were someone who was waiting for this I am sorry! Life has been a rollercoaster recently but I am finally back to being in a place of stability. This is certainly a longer fic, so I hope you all enjoy it. As always feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments below!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Word Count: 25k+

September: When I met you

“Your coffee, miss.”

“Oh, thank you,”

Finally, you tore your eyes away from your book to smile at the girl handing you your drink.

You gratefully accepted the liquid, hands wrapping around the warm ceramic mug as you inhaled deeply. The bitter scent of coffee with a hint of vanilla kissed your senses, causing you to smile.

Taking a sip, your eyes wander to the large window as the warmth travels down your throat.

Soft rain fell from endless gray.

It had been raining for hours now, which drove you into the small cafe. You were pleased when you entered the space. A warm cozy atmosphere fragranced with coffee and paired with the sound of rain.

What more could you want for a reading environment?

You let yourself settle further into the oversized couch, watching placidly as drops of rain slowly travel down the planes of the window.

Such a perfect day.

Peering down at your watch, you sigh. It was nearly 5 pm. Idly, you run your fingers along the soft threads of the couch, drifting further into your own thoughts. You knew you had to leave sometime soon, but willingly tearing yourself away from this serenity seemed like a crime.

“Is this seat taken?”

Huh?

You pull your eyes away from the window to find a man standing before you, soaked to the bone in rainwater.

Soft white hair stuck to his porcelain skin. It drew your attention, eyes unable to look away. However, when your eyes met his, your breath caught. They stole your attention; piercing blue that seemed to know everything .

“No, go ahead. Do you need a towel?”

You realized you were staring all while feeling slightly awkward. There were many other open seats, why did he need to choose the one that was adjacent to you?

“Do you have one?” he asked with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Giving him a curt nod, you began digging in your purse until you found your folded hand towel. Silently, you handed it to him and he accepted it, sitting down with a huff, roughly drying his hair.

Beginning to feel uncomfortable, you set down your coffee and resumed reading your book. Your fingers lightly played with the cover – feeling the embossed words, you traced the shapes, mind unable to focus.

Who is this guy?

You peered at him over the cover.

He had unzipped his black athletic jacket and draped it over a chair. He now wore a simple white button-down shirt and it clung to his muscular body. The color of his skin bleeds its way into the white, stealing your attention. With eyes discreetly tracing the planes of his body, you noted the pale blue veins that delicately decorated his hands.

You blushed, feeling as if you saw something you shouldn’t, so you quickly turned your eyes to the book – pretending to read.

Is he some kind of gym rat? Why is he so fit? He looked like a noodle a second ago…

“Miss?” his low voice calls, breaking your thoughts.

You meet his eyes over the pages. His hair, now more dry than wet, began sticking up in multiple different directions. The male is holding your towel out to you with a sad smile on his lips.

Deciding reading is futile, you close your novel, placing it to the right as you shake your head.

“Keep it,”

You don’t want a wet towel in your purse and it seems he doesn’t have an umbrella. It’s not much, but you hope it’ll give his spikey head a little coverage.

“You sure?” he asks, already leaning back to find comfort in his seat. You control the urge to stare at his body. So you grab your coffee, forcing your eyes to look at the deformed latte art.

“I’m sure. It seems it’ll get more use with you. Why were you outside in this weather anyway?”

It had been raining for hours, most people would be in their homes by now.

He eyed you for a moment, white eyelashes downcast, almost like he was recalling a painful memory.

“I wanted to be alone, my thoughts were loud, so the rain helped block them out. What about you?”

How can you say something like that so casually?

“Honestly, I was on my way home. But it had started raining and it led me here. Pulled out my book, and yeah…”

You shrugged your shoulders.

If you were being sincere, it was a needed escape. The walls of your home felt too suffocating, you looked for any excuse to not return.

“What’s your name?”

You now fully looked at his face.

He is handsome, with a sharp jawline and regal features. Nothing about him was mundane, it seemed as if he was a sculpture; something perfect and unattainable.

“Y/n, you?”

“Satoru. What do you do for a living?”

With eyebrows knitting together, you eyed the man.

What is this, a surprise interview?

“I am an author and I do some remote networking for a hospital. What about yourself?”

His eyebrows rose at your response and you couldn’t tell why. It’s not like your profession was anything to be shocked about.

Taking a sip of coffee, you sigh. The warmth slides down your throat as the delicate taste coats your tongue. Silently, you savor the feeling – the easy calm that washes over you.

“I am a sorcerer,”

The cup nearly dropped out of your hands.

Well, shit.

It’s not that you didn’t know they existed, it’s that you did your best to distinctly distance yourself from that world.

That explains the physique at least.

“I am sorry, then.”

You watch as his eyes turn sorrowful, then he faces the window, cheek in his palm.

“I don’t see any cursed energy coming from you, how do you know about us?”

It’s a simple question, but in truth, it was perhaps the heaviest one to ask you.

“A close friend. They went missing about 6 years ago. Police never got a trail, so I dug and I stumbled upon a lot of information I shouldn’t have. Been doing my best to ignore it since.”

You weren’t sure why you were talking to this random stranger. Maybe it was something in his expression, with the way his eyes longingly looked out the window – as if he too missed someone close to him.

Satoru hummed as he tapped a finger against his thigh, perfectly in tune with the soft rain.

“I lost someone too,”

The man spoke so softly you hardly picked up on his words. If you hadn't been paying attention to him, you may not have caught it.

“A lover?”

Judging by his expression, you guessed it had to be someone he loved. But, to your surprise, he let out a humorless laugh.

“No, but you could see it that way. He… Was like the other half of me. Someone I could trust. I knew with him, I could let go and be myself. I could breathe. Because he was the only person who saw me .”

Endless blue plagued with deep sadness gazed towards you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“When it rains, it reminds me of him.”

Your heart dropped.

“Where is he now?”

Becoming fully invested in the man in front of you, you cross your legs, leaning your body forward.

“I… He’s dead. It’s been a year,”

Satoru’s eyes turned down again.

Unable to stop yourself, you reached out, gently taking his hand, rubbing the cold, soft skin of his knuckles. Your touch shocked him for a moment, but he slowly relaxed into it, large palm melting in your delicate fingers.

The contact made your body shiver.

When was the last time I touched someone?

“Do you want anything?”

You didn’t want to offer him fake pleasantries, for you thought he wouldn’t appreciate it. However, you also didn’t know what to say. Nothing comforted you when your friend died, and you were positive it was the same for him.

“No, I am good. Thanks though.”

Nodding softly at his words, you reluctantly remove your hand to find your drink. Again, you welcomed the warmth of the liquid, relishing in its taste.

“Do you plan to leave soon?” the question left your lips in a whisper.

“Yeah, but if I am being honest, I don’t want to go back. I kind of just want to forget, y’know?”

At his honest words, you sighed, taking another long sip of your coffee.

“Unfortunately,”

He laughs at your answer. The pure sound makes you smile into your cup, shaking your head to try not to join him.

Maybe some company wouldn’t hurt.

With eyes falling to your coffee, you let your laugh die in your throat. It had been so long since you willing had a conversation with someone. Now you felt stiff and awkward.

“I-If you want, my home isn’t too far from here. You can wait out the rain there. I have some extra clothes that might fit you, that way we can wash your current ones.”

Finding a little bit of confidence you offered the man a small smile, to which he returned with his own.

If you were being honest, it seemed like he needed someone.

And maybe you did, too…

“Inviting a stranger over to your home? That’s awfully brave.” Satoru said with some found bravado, which only made you chuckle.

“Well yes, you are a stranger. But you also look like a wet, sad cat. It would break my heart to leave you stranded.” you tease back, earning yourself a smile from the male which made you bite the flesh of your inner cheek.

He really is beautiful, it's kind of unfair.

To hide your blush, you stuff your face into your mug, gulping down the remnants of your coffee.

“Alright, as long as I don’t end up in a crop top and short shorts.”

It was your turn to laugh. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat, just imagining him in such an outfit was ridiculous – all long limbs in hot pink and denim.

Somehow, you think he would pull it off if he tried.

“Oh I don’t know, now you’re giving me ideas~” you coo playfully, wiggling your fingers in his smiling face. He feigned being offended, crossing his arms over his chest, and looking the other way – which only caused you to laugh harder and him to join you.

The two of you giggled uncontrollably a bit, hands lacing over your stomachs. It was the only sound that could be heard other than the soft pitter-patter of rain.

Deciding you had overstayed your welcome, you began collecting your items. In a pair, you exited the building. Your bodies huddle together under the umbrella that Satoru held. The male looked down at you with a wicked smile, then jumped in a puddle, effectively splashing the both of you with cold rain. You laughed and pretended to be annoyed, joining in his childish behavior.

At some point, you began chasing each other in the rain, umbrella forgotten. You laughed like children till you reached your home, the two of you completely soaked.

Still giggling, you unlocked the door, wiping your hair out of your face.

“Wait here, I’ll get you a towel.”

Knocking off your shoes, you padded over to your hallway closet, grabbing two towels. You were already running yours through the length of your hair when you returned to the male. He gratefully accepted the fabric, using it immediately against his unruly hair.

It was then that you noticed his height and stature. His body is elegant and lithe, whereas he is tall, easily towering over your frame.

This somehow annoyed you.

Why do all the good genes go to one person?

“You’re staring,” he commented and you shrugged.

“Just thinking you’re unfairly blessed,”

A long sigh escaped your lips as you dropped your towel to the floor, hoping to clean some of the water off the polished wooden planks.

“You wouldn’t be the first – Is that a cat?”

Catching the excitement in his voice, you smile.

“Yes, that’s Noir. Before you say it, I know she’s white. I just like the novelty of the name.”

Slightly shaking your hair, you hang up your jacket, watching Satoru stare at your cat out of the corner of your eye.

“Will she attack me?” he asks and you hear an audible gulp .

Satoru places his towel on the floor, cleaning up his own puddle of water with his foot to hide his embarrassment.

Who knew such a big man would be so cautious of a little feline?

“Here,”

Holding your hand out to the male, you lightly cock your head to the side, wet hair tickling the nape of your neck. He places his large hand in your small one and you lead him to Noir, who is currently perched on your gray couch, cleaning herself.

Gently, you guide his hand to your cat, allowing her to give him a sniff. Then, she affectionately nuzzles her head into his palm, purring when he scratches under her chin. You watch as he smiles like a big idiot, squatting down so he’s at eye level with your pet.

“I think she likes me,” he whispers to you happily, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“She likes everyone . That girl is also a glutton, the T-R-E-A-T-S are on top of the fridge. I am going to take a shower, keep my precious furbaby company will ya?”

You couldn’t help the tight squeeze of your heart at the sight. In a way, they kind of resemble each other. Right down to the unruly fur and knowing blue eyes.

“I wouldn’t let anyone harm her for the world,” he promises, and you chuckle.

“Good,”

—

Feeling some life return to him, Satoru pads over to the kitchen, securing the treasure; treats for Noir.

“Here girl,”

He makes kissing noises and the soft feline comes running over. She has a fluffy white coat, and if she had been asleep on the couch he may have mistaken her for a throw pillow.

The cat ‘meowed’ at the sight of the bag, spinning in a circle then sat down, staying perfectly still.

Oh, did your mommy teach you tricks?

“Oh, good girl, Noir!”

He excitedly plucked out a treat, placed it in his palm, and then brought it down so she could lick it off his skin. The scratchy feeling of her tongue tickled his hand until the snack was gone. Then she was sitting again, big blue eyes begging him for more.

“Let’s see,” Satoru hummed happily, grabbing another treat from the bag, holding it a little higher than the cat.

“Jump!”

Noir did as commanded, gracefully jumping, catching the treat in her mouth, and snacking while walking in a triumphant circle.

“Ohhh~ You’re such a smart girl!” the cat rubbed his leg, purring affectionately into him. He knew that she was buttering him up, but he didn’t care.

Over and over, he played with Noir. Giving her treats with each performed trick, petting her lovingly after every graceful action. Eventually, he sat down, ignoring the bite of the cool kitchen tile, letting the cat lay on his chest.

He closed his eyes, enjoying Noir’s warmth and soft fur against his skin. Her soft purs tickled the pads of his fingers, making him smile to himself. The feeling ebbed some of the ice out of his chest, blocking out the whispers of loneliness.

“I see my little lady has captured your heart,”

He cracked open one eye.

Y/n was smiling down at them, wet hair surrounding her soft features. She dressed simply in a white t-shirt and sweatpants, but she still looked beautiful.

He sighed, kissing Noir’s soft little head, then stood. Y/n’s eyes followed his movement, every bit of curiosity easily readable on her face. He couldn’t remember the last time he was around a non-sorcerer. However, her presence was calming, and he was willingly letting himself drown in her serenity.

“The bathroom is down the hall on the left. I put the spare clothes on the counter along with a fresh towel,” her eyes raked his frame. She then clicked her tongue with a disapproving look on her face.

“Put those ruined clothes in the hamper and place them in the hall. I’ll wash them.”

Oh, she’s just not happy about my clothes. It wasn’t toward me.

“You got it, boss,”

Satoru smiled playfully, finding his familiar mask. He heeded her words and headed down the hall. Once in the bathroom, he shut the door and got to work.

Quickly, he peeled himself out of his now-damp clothes and placed them in the empty clothing hamper.

She’s kind.

Hiding behind the door, he slid the hamper into the hallway.

“Clothes are out!”

It was a bit odd, calling to her as he hid his naked body. It made him feel slightly embarrassed somehow.

“Alright!”

At her response, he closed the door.

He felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he turned on the shower, stepping into the comforting heat. It warmed his rain-chilled flesh, blotting out some of the emptiness inside him.

Why do I feel so nervous?

While raking his hands through his hair, he let his day settle over him.

In truth, he never meant to enter that cafe. He simply meant to walk around aimlessly, letting the rain soak him to his bones. Thoughts of Suguru always plagued him on days like this, and with the anniversary of the day he left passing, it was worse.

He couldn’t let his students see him like this, so he sought to punish himself. Walking in the rain for hours, dropping all barriers, letting his body turn frigid.

Then he saw her .

He watched as she had to tear herself away from her book, brightly smiling at the barista handing her the coffee. She settled into the couch, drinking her drink while looking out toward the rain with such serenity he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It was as if she was tranquility itself, surrounded by the warm glow of the industrial lights, dressed elegantly in soft white and pink.

At that moment, she pulled him away from his haunting thoughts.

Feeling the unwavering need to be closer to her, he stepped into the shop. He didn’t know what he needed, but he found himself relaxing little by little under her whimsical gaze. The woman didn’t probe him or shy away. Instead, she offered her silent kindness and pleasant smile. He then found himself opening up to her, saying things that he hadn’t said to anyone in years .

She surprised him, when she softly grabbed his hand, asking if he wanted anything rather than giving her sympathy. He allowed himself to get lost in the kindness of her eyes. He let her touch him, having to hide the shiver that ran down his body from her warmth.

Then, they were laughing.

Before he knew it, they were chasing each other in the rain like children. Even though she was soaked down to her socks, she was spinning and laughing, hair sticking to her skin as she happily jumped into cold puddles to splash him. It was as if they had no care in the world.

Not once did thoughts of Suguru attack him, even with the feeling of rain tracing his skin.

A light smile tugged on his lips.

Who knew I just needed to feel normal?

—

You were setting out the items to make dinner when Satoru entered the kitchen. When you turned around, you had to stifle your laughter.

The sweatpants, though several sizes too big for you, came to about mid-calf length on him. It also didn’t help that he was wearing a baby pink t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy house slippers to match.

“You look dashing,”

Placing a hand on your hip, you motion for him to twirl with your other, earning yourself a bemused glare from the male.

“I look like a twink,” he huffs, a blush lightly kissing his pale cheeks, making you giggle.

“Can you cook?” you ask, completely avoiding responding to his statement. His eyebrows knitted, taking in the ingredients on the counter.

“If you instruct me,” the words leave his lips slowly, still trying to piece together the dish you’re making. You laugh, walking up to him and placing a reassuring hand on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t worry too much. It’s pasta, if you mess up just add more cheese.”

Letting your eyes meet his, you hold your breath.

They were softly looking down at you, corners folding kindly as if he was looking at something precious. The difference was so stark from the emptiness you saw earlier – it made your heart melt.

“I’ll blame you if it goes wrong,” Satoru winked down at you, hand coming up to your hair, ruffling it lightly.

“H-Hey!” you retort, and he laughs, easily avoiding your swipe at him.

“What’s first?” he asks innocently and you huff while rolling your eyes, unable to hide your smile.

“Let’s hope you don’t burn down my kitchen.”

—

Turning on some music, you and Satoru worked together to make dinner.

Laughter sounded throughout your home as you instructed the male. You watched as he fumbled with different utensils, unsure of what to do with each item. He would turn red, blaming you for not instructing him properly when you would tease him – which only resulted in you both laughing under your breath.

Noir had joined the party, nimbly weaving between your two bodies, brushing up against your legs as you cooked. Once you were waiting for the pasta to finish cooking, you were humming and swaying your hips to the music. Satoru noticed and took your hands, joyfully dancing with you.

You both danced around your kitchen, laughing infectiously. At some point, he picked up Noir, snuggling her close to his chest with one arm as his other spun you.

The silliness continued through the night as you turned on a rom-com movie and halfway through Satoru was tearing up, asking you why he would leave the girl. You were too choked up yourself, shaking your head and cursing at the male lead, holding Noir close for emotional support. With both of you fed up, you decided there was no way you were ending on a sad note, so you turned on a children's movie to feel better.

Which, somehow, made both of you more emotional.

Once the movie was over, you washed the dishes together. It was only then you saw the time.

“Oh my god!” you cried, almost dropping the freshly dried plate.

“What?” Satoru asked, much calmer than you.

“It’s midnight! Do you live close by? I’ll pay for your taxi back. I am so sorry, I lost track of time.”

The male only laughed, making you pout.

Why is he laughing?

“No, I don’t live near here. The taxi would be expensive. I’ll find a hotel, don’t worry about it.” he smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You shook your head aggressively.

“I can’t make you pay for a hotel! After all, I invited you over, so I should take responsibility.”

“I, um…” running a hand through your hair you sigh. There’s really only one option but that seems a bit much.

“You can stay the night, the couch is moveable so I’ll just make it into a bed for you.” heat rushed to your cheeks. You were so embarrassed.

I got lost in the moment .

“Are you sure? I don’t want to invade your space.” he took the plate from your hand and put it away.

“I’m sure. I spend most of my time alone, anyway. Your company isn’t entirely unwelcome.” you could only hope you sounded natural. Internally your brain was screaming at you.

Satoru rolled his eyes, making you chuckle.

“Oh, wow, thanks. Makes me feel so wanted.”

“I am glad you feel that way!” you chirp, playfully elbowing his side as you finish putting away the last dish.

Satoru picks up Noir, nuzzling his nose against her pink one as he starts bad-mouthing you.

“Your mommy is very mean. You should come live with me, I’ll give you lots of treats~”

Rolling your eyes at the sight, you make your way to the hallway closet to pull out an extra blanket and pillow.

Tossing the items on the couch, you cross your arms over your chest. Satoru was possessively holding Noir close to him, eyeing you suspiciously.

“She sleeps with me,” the man-child announces, and you roll your eyes.

“If you truly feel the need to claim her for the evening, then fine. Just don’t be surprised when she’s on your head in the morning.”

Still eyeing you, he slowly places Noir down. The furball comes running up to you, rubbing her head lovingly against your leg.

“Traitor! I just gave you so many kisses.”

Laughing, you motion for him to help you move the couch. He obliges and you work together to shape it to a somewhat bed that will work with the length of his body.

“You should learn spooky magic that makes you shrink.” you huff, eyeing his long frame.

Again, he was back to looking like a noodle. But you knew that he packed muscle under the semi-baggy clothes.

“It’s called jujutsu and I don’t think that exists. Also, you’re staring again,” he notes and you sigh, waving a dismissive hand.

“I am going to bed, if you need anything just knock on the door.”

You turn and you hear him chuckle.

“Avoiding me?”

Looking at him over your shoulder, you run your eyes over the length of his body, this time letting him watch your features.

“You’re beautiful and strong. However, you’re also hurt and trying to piece yourself back together…”

Pausing, you consider your words.

A fallen angel. Made of pure moonlight and stars. But shattered like the image seen through a kaleidoscope.

“I hope you heal your heart, Satoru.”

Without waiting for his response, you closed your door, locking it behind you.

Your worlds are completely different, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had been through. Nor were you going to pretend to know.

But if there’s one thing you could relate to, it’s trauma.

—

Satoru spent the entire night tossing and turning. Noir was resting above his head, purring softly against him. With each passing hour, his throat became drier and drier, until eventually, he was coughing.

My head hurts and my throat feels like sandpaper.

Once the first rays of morning sunlight trickled through the window, Satoru was coughing aggressively while his body felt extremely hot.

Am I sick? There’s no way.

Y/n came out of her room with her hair a mess and her pajamas wrinkled. The second she heard his cough she was rushing over.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, voice soft and somewhat gravelly.

She was rubbing the sleep out of her hazy eyes, already moving to press the back of her hand to his head.

“No, I am fine–” he coughed and she flicked his forehead.

“You're burning up. Most likely a cold from the rain. I’ll go get you some medicine, just rest.”

Sighing, she ran a hand through her tangled hair.

“Really, I’ll be okay. I’m–” Satoru couldn’t even finish his sentence. He started coughing aggressively, each retch of breath making him feel like he was eating sand.

“Right, and I can fly. Don’t be stubborn.”

Rolling her eyes, the woman padded over to the kitchen.

“I can fly!” he shouted hoarsely like a petulant child, plopping back against the cushions, and reaching up to grab Noir. The second his fingers wrapped around her soft warmth, he brought her to his chest, rubbing his nose into her fur.

“Good for you!”

This is humiliating .

After a few minutes, she returned with a mug in her hand.

Slowly, he sat up. His chest felt like it was caving in and he felt incredibly lightheaded. Satoru eyed the mug and then gingerly took it from her small hands.

“What is it?”

He sniffed and she raised her brow.

“It’s ginger tea with honey and lemon. It’s hot. The honey and temperature, once it cools a little , will help soothe your throat.”

Why does it sound like she’s talking to a kid?

Giving Noir a loving pet to the head, she crouched down so she was at eye level with the feline.

“As for you, my sweet girl, your food is in the kitchen. Watch over this big child for me.” the cat seemed to understand its master because she ‘meowed’ in response.

“I’m not a child,” Satoru said begrudgingly. Y/n only stood with a bemused expression.

“Right.” she eyed him up and down once, then walked away.

Satoru felt his face become hot, and it wasn’t from the steam kissing his cheeks.

Usually, women threw themselves at him. It had happened so many times now with both men and women that he assumed he was everyone's type. But it seems Y/n couldn’t care less about his looks.

For whatever reason, that bothered him.

How can she call me beautiful but be so cold toward me?

Without thinking, he gulped his tea, only to quickly pull away due to the heat burning his tongue.

Cursing softly, he set the mug down on the coffee table, pinching his burnt tongue between his thumb and forefinger. He tried to reach for Noir for comfort, but she had long abandoned him for her breakfast.

Y/n exited her room, hair pulled into a loose bun as she wore a baggy white t-shirt and black cargo pants. He couldn’t help but think she looked cute in her streetwear.

Once her eyes saw him, she sighed, a soft smile on her lips.

“You know, I did mention wait to drink your tea till it had cooled. I thought you were a good listener. But it appears I misjudged you.”

With an elegant wave of her hand, she bid him farewell. He watched as she slid on an army green windbreaker and black Dr.Martens. Then she grabbed her purse and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Knitting his eyebrows together, he turned his head toward Noir. She was eating her special food neatly, back to him as she softly purred.

“Is your mommy always so mean?”

—

Walking down the street you couldn’t help but look at the puddles decorating the ground. Yesterday was the first time you laughed and had fun in years.

When you and your best friend moved to Japan it was scary. You were a foreigner and you didn’t know anyone. So naturally, when she passed, you became more isolated. You tried going outside to meet people, but sometimes it felt like too much. People were more interested in the fact that you’re from the States, they were never really interested in you .

To add, you work remotely from home, so opportunities are truly limited.

“Eh, adulting is hard~” you whispered to yourself as you entered a local convenience store.

The clerk at the desk welcomed you in and you gave them a slight bow in response.

Immediately you B-lined for the medicine, grabbing the items you needed. Then, because you were already here, you began searching the aisles for snacks.

I was expecting him to be gone this morning. Even if he’s sick, I can’t say I am not happy for the company.

After checking out you started to head home, thinking about all the trivial things you needed to get done today. You had deadlines to meet for your book and you had to look through the servers to make sure there were no network issues.

Grabbing a coffee from a small shop that you frequent, you began frowning, feeling the lines form on your forehead as your daily list seemed to keep stacking higher.

You were sipping on the last remnants of your iced latte when you opened the door to your home, finding Satoru fast asleep.

Softly closing the door, you shimmied out of your jacket, hanging it on the wooden coat rack. Noir padded over to you, the sound of her little paws tapping on the floor sounded through the space. Smiling sweetly, you pat your cat on her soft head as you take your boots off.

Making your way to where Satoru was on the couch, you note he seemed to look worse. His cheeks are flushed and his skin is pale. You make press your hand to his forehead, but you feel like you're touching a wall.

What?

Your fingers were splayed flat against an invisible barrier, hovering right over Satoru’s body.

“Strange,” you murmur in wonder, trailing your finger over the length of the wall. It stretched all around his body, protecting him in a bubble.

Satoru opened his eyes, softly blinking as he adjusted to his environment, taking in your features.

Suddenly, that wall is gone, and your hand falls limply to your side.

“It’s called Infinity,” he rasps, light cough already pressing out of his throat.

You hold up your hand to silence him, quickly grabbing the medicine you purchased earlier.

“Don’t worry about explaining anything. Just drink this. There’s a sleeping agent in it, so expect to feel drowsy.” he opened his mouth to protest, but you shot him a pointed look, effectively silencing him.

The male sat up, accepting your carefully measured medicine. He drank it, making a face as it went down his throat.

“It tastes like shit,” he coughed and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what that tastes like?”

Leaving the medicine on the coffee table, you make your way to the kitchen.

“You’d be surprised.” he shoots back, voice already sounding better.

“Oh, I am sure~” you make your voice annoyingly sweet as you prepare a bottle of water for him. Once you made your way back to the couch you saw his features flatten, not taking your teasing kindly.

“I have seen things that would probably make you piss your pants and cry.”

He catches the bottle you toss him and you shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe, maybe not. I may not be as soft as you think I am.” Satoru’s eyes widen in surprise and you turn away.

Plopping down on the overstuffed chair adjacent to him, you pull out your laptop from the convenient cushion/storage. Once you obtain your computer and headphones, you place your feet comfortably on the cushion, letting your back sink into the softness of the chair.

“You’re a non-sorcerer, what have you seen that’s on the same level as curses?” his voice calls, no prejudice in his words, just general curiosity.

You roll your shoulders. Suddenly, they felt heavy. Every time you thought about your past this happened. Your shoulders would ache as cold sweat licked your spine.

Opening your computer, you sigh, remoting into the network server you manage.

Maybe if I talk about it while working it’s not so bad .

“Curses are born from human's negative emotions, right?” you start slowly, not wanting to look at him.

“Right,” Satoru confirms, confusion in his tone.

“You see, some people act on those emotions. Anger, fear, sadness, resentment…” Swallowing thickly, you continue.

“I think you’ll find that some of those people are much more ugly than curses. Curses don’t wear masks, they are just as they are. People, however…” you cracked your neck, diligently typing in commands into your computer, eyes scanning your screen.

I am not my past. It does not define me.

You repeat this mantra to yourself, steadying your nervous heart.

“Have you experienced it? The ugliness of humanity?” you could hear the caution in his words, almost as if he was scared to say the wrong thing to you.

Your hands had stopped typing entirely.

You opened your mouth to answer but felt the words die in your throat. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes shook. It was like two hands were wrapped around your neck, thumbs pressing into your windpipe, choking you.

Taking a deep breath, you steady your heart.

I am not my past. It does not define me.

“Y/n–”

“You should sleep, I’ll be in my office. It’s at the far end of the hallway. If you need anything just ask.”

Closing your laptop, you place your headphones in your ears. You see Satoru say something, but you pretend not to notice, watching as his features twist with confusion and self-doubt.

You walk away, playing music in your ears but you hear nothing. Everything is silent.

Sorry, it’s not your fault .

Once behind the door to your office, you let out a shuddering breath.

Why did I pay for therapy if I can’t even talk about it?

You spent years trying to feel normal, and for the most part, your brain let you forget. You could be fine for months, but then you get thrown into a space that’s a little too crowded and suddenly you can’t breathe. Someone touches your shoulder and you feel like a thousand spiders are crawling all over you. If you were in a space where there were too many noises, your brain would turn everything into white noise, leaving only the sound of your erratic heartbeat in your ears.

It was the reason why you were single. The last relationship you were in ended with him telling you that you were too complicated . Your love language is physical touch, but sometimes that touch was too much, too overstimulating, or triggering. You enjoy being outside, but can’t be in crowded spaces without being plagued by anxiety, and living in Japan, well, it’s always crowded.

Maybe I am just better off alone.

—

Satoru awoke to the sound of Y/n humming softly.

Cracking open his eyes, he peered over the edge of the couch. It seemed she was making something, but her headphones were in and she was swaying lightly.

He recalled the way she looked just hours prior; shoulders caved in, sweat running down her face, eyes distant. She looked like she would run away any second. So many questions circled in his mind, but more than anything he wanted to hug her. He had seen that look too many times.

Turning his eyes away from the female, he checked his phone.

Shit, they’ve been calling me.

Yaga had called him 6 times whereas Megumi texted him.

“Where are you?”

“I won’t be back for a little bit. Hold down the fort, kay’?”

Megumi immediately responded.

“What are you talking about? Are you on a mission?”

“Don’t worry~”

“Stop being weird.”

“If anyone asks, I am handling a personal matter.”

“Whatever.”

Satoru had a sneaking suspicion that if he admitted he is sick, he would never live it down.

“You awake?”

Y/n’s head was now peering over him, the ends of her hair tickling his face. He searched her features, but none of her earlier fear remained. She looked calm, but now he couldn’t help but wonder what lies beneath the surface of that practiced tranquility.

“You’re staring,” her soft voice teases, making him chuckle.

He moves to sit up and she removes her face from his view, stepping around the couch to hand him a bowl. He takes the dish from her hands to find a broth-based soup with meat, noodles, and vegetables.

“Did you make this?” he asks as she takes up a seat beside him, blowing on a spoonful of golden liquid.

“Mhm. You’re probably not very hungry, but try to eat a little bit.” she hums as she takes a bite of her food, bringing one leg under her other, comfortably settling into the couch.

Satoru follows her lead, blowing on his soup, and then taking a bite. The warm liquid soothed his throat as the broth coated his tongue. It was light but enjoyable.

“Do you cook often?” he asks, turning to face her and she does the same.

Watching as she shrugged her shoulders, he bit back a smile. Her hair was a little messier and her cheeks were lightly flushed from the steam of the soup.

“If I can, I avoid going out too much. I’m a homebody.”

He nodded his head at her words, understanding what she meant. He was the same way, but also different. Being out on a mission or being at Jujutsu High made it difficult for him to eat homemade meals like this. More often than not he would eat out. If he had a choice though, he would rather relax like this.

“Do you not like people?” he ensured his voice was neutral, not wanting her to feel cornered or pressured.

Meeting her eyes, he watched her swallow thickly, considering his words.

“It’s not that. I just don’t do well in crowded, loud spaces. Were you able to sleep?” she changed the subject so naturally he barely caught it. Somehow, he found himself frowning, feeling as if he’d been robbed of an opportunity.

“Somewhat. You said you’re an author right? How’s writing going?”

He watched as she scrunched up her face, shaking her head.

“Annoying. I keep rewriting this scene, but I can’t seem to get the atmosphere right.”

Taking an aggressive bite of her soup, she set the bowl down, leaning her head back against the couch.

Even when she pouts she’s cute.

“What’s it about? Maybe I can help.”

He wasn’t much of a writer, but he was also curious about what her story was about.

Her face suddenly became red, so much so to the point that she turned her gaze away from him.

“I-It’s not important. You said you slept somewhat well, right? Is anything uncomfortable?” she asked without looking at him.

Smiling, he set his bowl down and poked her red cheek.

“Eh? Why don’t you answer my question first~” she swatted his hand away but he kept pressing, now lightly pinching her cheeks.

Y/n faced him, eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head, taking his hands with her.

“No way! I will not divulge secrets of my unpublished novel to you.”

Her small hands wrapped around his wrists to pry his hands away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he moved his hands to her sides, tickling her waist.

“Hey! Ah, what’re you doing–”

Laughter filled his ears, and it was like sweet music. He laughed with her, now moving her body to fully face him. She kicked her legs furiously, not caring that she was kicking his thighs at all.

“Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!”

Her hands were frantically grasping at him. She was grabbing his arms, chest, and neck, pulling him closer to her squirming body as she was shouting while laughing.

“No, ah, please stop!” She cried helplessly, hands fisting the shirt that rested on his body, and grabbing it so harshly it pulled his body forward, making him catch himself on his hands to not crash into her.

His eyes widened.

Her face was inches from his own as her hot, heavy breaths tickled his skin. Shocked eyes stared into him and he took in her features. Long dark eyelashes fluttered against her flushed cheeks as her lips, full and parted, began distracting him. Her dizzying scent filled his nose– soft rose with a hint of sandalwood. He could feel the ghost of the rise and fall of her chest as her hands, still fisted in the fabric of the loaned shirt, trembled.

Beautiful.

Hesitantly, he reached up and traced the curve of her cheek. She closed her eyes, body shuddering as she leaned into his touch. Her skin was soft beneath his fingertips, and he let himself enjoy the feeling of her warmth seeping into his pores.

“Y–”

Noir jumped between the spaces of their bodies and planted herself right on Y/n’s face. Satoru reluctantly removed himself from the scene, allowing Y/n to pluck Noir off of her.

“I– what has gotten into you Noir?”

The woman held the fluff ball right above her head. The feline flattened her ears while she swayed her tail back and forth.

“I think she doesn’t like sharing her mom,” he suggested and she lifted a brow.

“Or maybe, my precious girl was saving me from my assailant.” She spoke in a baby voice, gently shaking Noir.

“Don’t say it like that! It makes me sound like a creep.”

She sat up, pulling Noir close to her chest as she placed a kiss on her head.

“You attacked me, as far as I see it, I am speaking the truth.”

Turning her head in pure defiance, the woman set down her cat as she stood, taking their finished bowls of soup with her.

“If you just told me I wouldn’t have attacked you!”

“You admit to your crime, then?”

“I plead the 5th.”

What was that just now?

Satoru placed his hand on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart. His cheeks felt hot, and he wasn’t sure if it was from his sickness or the lingering scent of her perfume.

She scoffed and he heard the sound of water running. The only noise that filled the space was the sound of dishes being washed, and her making something. Once the woman returned, she was holding out a mug toward him while holding one of her own. He took the liquid from her hand, and she rejoined him on the couch.

Eyeing the cup, he noticed it was the same tea from earlier, but much less hot. Y/n fidgeted with the string of her tea, he watched as she brought her knees up to her chest, eyeing him sidelong.

“About earlier, I am sorry.”

She lowered her dark eyelashes, eyes refusing to meet him as she took a sip of her tea.

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have asked you something personal.”

His response seemed to surprise her. She faltered for a moment, then set down her mug, slightly facing him. Satoru took a drink of his tea, the temperature pleasantly warm, easing his sore throat.

“It’s not that. It’s just hard to talk about, my mind will suddenly go blank and I can’t think.”

She wrapped her hands around her knees, resting her cheek on them as she let her eyes meet his. Solitary sadness peered at him, whispering of isolation and numbed scars – a look he knew all too well.

“It doesn’t hurt me anymore, but forcing myself to relive memories is harder than coping with them. People always say talking about it makes it easier to deal with, but I think that’s bullshit.”

He laughed lightly at her words, making the corners of her mouth lift softly.

“I haven’t talked to anyone about Suguru since it happened. I don’t think they would understand me if I said what I was really thinking.”

His finger traced the rim of the ceramic mug, memories of his youth playing in his mind.

“Whatever you feel, it’s valid. It doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong.”

His chest suddenly felt tight. Her words eased some of the tension out of his shoulders, making him avoid her gaze.

“Can I ask you something?”

She hummed in response and he swallowed his saliva. He needed to be careful, for he tended to be too insensitive at times.

“You seem so at peace, but earlier, you looked…”

He couldn’t find the right word.

Distraught, lost, fearful, horrified, panicked? None of the words seemed to fit.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head, and letting it rest between her legs.

“Years of practice. It’s a mask of sorts. I let myself forget most days, and it’s easier when I fall into a routine. But sometimes, something will trigger me, and I kind of just… Shut down? I don’t know how to describe it, but I become numb to everything for a while.”

Her words struck him. He placed his mug down and leaned forward, forearms on his thighs as he resonated with her.

“How much do you know about the Jujutsu world?”

Maybe we can relate to each other.

“The basics. A lot of the times the Gojo family and the Six-Eyes came up in my research, but honestly, I skimmed through those bits, understanding almost nothing about it. Why do you ask?”

She eyed him, and he inhaled deeply. Her stare was piercing; like she was dissecting him.

“I am the strongest sorcerer of this generation. I am also a teacher to the new generation. I’ll save you from the specifics, but my role is incredibly isolating. Naturally, I can’t ever fail. There was a time when I thought I would be able to share this burden of power, but my dreams were crushed by the reality of my strength.”

Satoru opened and closed his hands, familiar frustration rising in his chest.

He looked at her and that frustration vanished. She gazed at him with open sincerity. Kindness traced her features, listening to every word he said earnestly. No sign of awe or admiration, just pure intent on understanding him.

He cleared his throat.

“You see, despite the blessings I have been given, not once has this power made a difference. When it mattered the most, I was unable to save those who I deeply cared for. So I smile, laugh, and pretend I am okay. But in truth, I want to destroy the system and people that have stolen the youth of so many, consequences be damned.”

The truth of his words lingered in the air. The only way he could cope after Suguru was by dedicating himself to a new goal, something substantial that would transcend through generations.

“I can’t claim to understand the isolation of power, I am just an average person. But, I do understand the loneliness and yearning for someone to understand you…”

Finding her tea, she paused, took a deep breath, and then continued.

“I never knew my parents, I was an orphan. Whether they died or gave me up, I don’t know. But I bounced around from one temporary home to another. Most weren’t great. Some kept locks on the pantry and fridge so I couldn’t eat. One would lock me in a small closet as a form of punishment, that is if they were too tired to hit me. Either way, there’s not a lot of people who relate to that. So it’s isolating.”

Y/n softly smiled at him. No tears filled her eyes, despite the heavy words that left her lips. She just smiled sadly, eyelashes softly kissing her cheeks; it felt as if she was peering into his soul.

He didn’t know what to say, so he took her hand in his, wrapping his fingers around hers, softly stroking her knuckles. She squeezed, soft skin hugging his own. He could feel the slightly rough texture of her fingertips as her warmth seeped into him, calling to his nerves.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head, setting some of her hair free of its confinement to frame her face. Again, he was struck by her alluring beauty.

“What?” the question left his lips in a breathless murmur.

“Usually, I can’t talk about that without my heart beating out of my chest.”

Without another word, she gently guided his palm to her chest, right above her heart. Subconsciously he held his breath as he felt the steady thrum of her heart. It softly beat against her chest, and he could feel it through the fabric of her shirt. Her lovely warmth kissed his skin, and he couldn’t tear himself away.

She smiled.

“No anxiety,” whispering in astonishment, her eyes searched his in wonder.

He was locked in her innocent gaze – eyes swirling with perplexed emotions.

Satoru smiled down at her, allowing her fingers to intertwine with his.

If only for now, let me be human.

“Tell me more.”

—

You spent the rest of your day exchanging stories of your youth with Satoru. Sometimes you laughed, and other times you teared up, but either way, you both listened to each other earnestly.

It was different somehow.

There was an ease to the flow of the conversation, and it washed away any lingering fear in your heart. It was like you could breathe for the first time – you could be you, and you didn’t shy away from it.

“How are you feeling?”

Having finished your 5th cup of tea, you were starting to get a little stir-crazy. Satoru seemed to be in higher spirits as his fever died down. From the looks of it, the medicine and his stupidly good genes fought off the germs quickly.

“Better,”

He sighed, stretching out his long limbs.

You pulled your eyes away from the sight, trying not to look at where the shirt had risen over his stomach.

“Well, would you like to join me for a walk?”

It’s a small offer, though asking still made you feel self-conscious. Your fingers fumbled with the damp tea-string idly, a welcomed distraction from the growing heat on your cheeks.

It’s not like I am asking him on a date, so why am I getting so embarrassed?

Satoru gave you a knowing smile but then gestured to his clothes.

“Just like this? Fuzzy pink house slippers and all?”

Rolling your eyes at his tease, you motion toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes and a toothbrush have been laid out since this morning. The outfit choice is yours to make. Brushing your teeth, however, is non-negotiable.”

“Oh, planning on stealing a kiss?”

The male stands, and you now have to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

A smirk tugs at his lips, and it makes your mouth go dry. Despite the playfulness of his demeanor, there is something predatory in his eyes. He takes another step forward, invading your space. Not close enough to feel his breath on your skin, but it was the distance that lovers stood from each other.

Finding some bravado, you speak.

“Fantasizing about me already?”

You feign confidence by placing a hand on your hip while puffing out your bottom lip.

To say that you’re not attracted to this man would be an outright lie. Also, to say that you only have platonic feelings for him would be another lie. But you weren’t going to let him know that, nor were you going to let him toy with your feelings.

Satoru's smirk doesn’t falter, instead, he lowers his eyelashes elegantly, looking at you in the way men look at women they’re enamored with.

“You want to make those fantasies a reality?” his low, breathy voice caught you so off guard to the point your eyes widened and your cheeks became heated.

“I– wha?” incoherent words fumbled out of your mouth.

Then Satoru laughed.

“You should see your face!” he said between breaths, making you only blush harder.

Embarrassment rising in your chest, you kick his shin, grateful his magical protection bubble wasn’t up.

“Ow!“

“Don’t pretend to be hurt! Go change you bastard!”

—

Cold night air nipped at the skin of your cheeks as you and Satoru walked silently side by side. The quiet was welcomed as you relished in the calm of the night. The warm glow of the street lights complimented the cool evening sky. Though only being just past 9, the streets were empty, which you appreciated.

Peeking at Satoru out of the corner of your eye, you smiled.

His eyes, beautiful and alluring in the night air, took in his surroundings. They seemed to be swallowing every detail, brain dissecting and memorizing the scene in front of him: Stone tiled streets lined with a mix of old and modern homes.

It made you wonder if he ever had moments of quiet like this. Because right now, he looked like a child who had never been outside a day in his life.

“Do you not go on walks often?” you ask, breaking him out of his reverie.

The male, with hair that of moonlight and eyelashes of silver, blinked – your words registering in his mind.

“It’s not that. Usually, I am on a mission. It’s not often that the world is this slow .”

Clasping your hands behind your back, you consider his words, trying to piece together an understanding.

“Care to elaborate with the class?”

The need to understand was greater than your pride. Even if you were to come up with a plausible answer, your guess would be further from his truth – and every part of you screamed to know that truth.

You hear him chuckle under his breath, then he turns his eyes to the stars.

“My eyes are special. To put it simply, they allow me to process everything around me at a much faster rate than the average person. So, usually, when I am out I am surveying my surroundings so much to the point where the simplicity of life is lost. Beautiful architecture no longer captures my eye, rather its existence becomes how I can use its shape to my advantage in a fight…”

His eyes found yours as he held your curious stare side-long.

“But right now, my mind is quiet. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. With you, everything seems to slow down. Almost to the point that I feel normal.”

The sound of your skipped heartbeat filled your ears.

Unable to hold his burning gaze, you turned your eyes to the starry night sky.

The stars, bright and alive against midnight blue are surrounded by the white glow of the moon. They captured your attention – reminding you of the male at your side.

“I don’t think I could ever see you as normal if I am being honest.” the words left your lips in a whisper.

“Why’s that?”

His voice was filled with innocent wonder, so you answered.

“Everything about you is unnaturally beautiful. Not a single feature that decorates your skin is flawed. It’s like someone painted you into existence.”

Perfect and unattainable. Something to be admired, but never to be kept.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you allowed your eyes to peer over at the tall male. He was smiling softly, eyes staring up at the night sky, the stars that rested there reflected in his irises.

It was like he was talking to the stars, and they glittered brilliantly in response.

“You see me so poetically,” Satoru murmured, mostly to himself.

“How do you see yourself, then?”

The question left your lips before you could consider its weight. You watch as he takes a deep breath in, whether it is to calm himself or to simply enjoy the atmosphere, you can’t tell.

“Honestly? Objectively, I know who I am and the weight of my power, it’s not fueled by ego or feigned confidence, it’s just a fact. But when I look at my reflection, it’s blurry. I can’t see anything, because I resent myself. If I had just tried a little harder, been less selfish, and paid more attention, maybe things would have been different.”

His honest words cracked your heart.

You silently grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers. He leaned into your touch, molding his hand to yours, thumb idly sweeping over the flesh. Unable to resist the smile that tugged at your lips, you let his warmth seep into your skin. Your hands swayed lightly, and to anyone else, you would’ve looked like a couple.

If only for a short time, I will open my heart to you.

“You know, someone once told me that you can choose to live in your past, to let it define you and your life. Or, you can learn from it and grow into the person you’re supposed to be, carrying the memories of those most precious with you. So, when I feel lost in the murky darkness of my thoughts I tell myself: I am not my past, it does not define me.”

You’ve never been this raw with anyone. Part of you was fearful he’d laugh in your face, but the other part of you whispered for you to let go. To continue baring your soul, because with him, he made you feel seen .

Satoru tugged your hand, halting your movement, stopping both of you in place. You met his eyes, a sheepish smile on your lips as you tried to hide your embarrassment.

“You are… A surprise.”

There is a hint of shyness in his voice, which in turn made yours rise. The tips of your ears felt hot, but you couldn’t pull away from his stare. You allowed yourself to be swallowed up in the moment, surrendering yourself to him under the gaze of the stars.

“Meeting your expectations?”

You bite the flesh of your inner cheek, feeling naked under his knowing blue eyes.

“Exceeding them and more,”

His eyes folded kindly, white eyelashes kissing his cheeks as soft moonlight illuminated him in an otherworldly glow. You couldn’t help but be swept away by his beauty – as if he was pure moonlight itself with dazzling stars for eyes.

For the second time this evening, your heart skipped a beat.

If you keep looking at me like that, I am going to fall for you, you idiot.

“Let’s go back, yeah?”

With forced enthusiasm, you turn around to head back the way you came. A light laugh escaped his lips as he allowed you to pull his body, which you were grateful for.

What he didn’t know was the act was to hide your deepening blush.

“Yeah,”

The evening ended and you went to bed feeling lighter than you had in years.

But in the morning, it vanished.

—

“Good morning,” you greeted him, having just finished freshening up for the day.

Satoru was dressed in the clothes you met him in, with the addition of a black blindfold covering his eyes. You saw that your couch was arranged the way it was previously, and Noir was eating her breakfast.

He cleaned and fed my cat.

“Morning,” his voice was somewhat distant, so you stood in front of him, placing your hands on your hips.

“You leaving?”

The fabric of his mask rises. Taking it as you surprised him, you rolled your eyes.

“I have to go back,” Satoru answered and you nod your head, taking a deep breath.

It’s not like you didn’t expect this. However, after yesterday, you knew you were going to miss him.

“I see. Thank you for cleaning up and feeding Noir.” You say pleasantly, trying to make your voice bright. There was no way you were going to let your feelings show. It isn’t fair to him.

Satoru took off his blindfold and stood, taking your face in his hands.

The sudden contact surprised you, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you steeled yourself, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“You don’t have to put on an act, Y/n.” his thumbs rubbed the soft skin of your cheeks as his eyes, endless sparkling blue, stared into you.

You let out a small laugh, allowing yourself to lean into his touch. Closing your eyes, you begin committing him to memory – The callouses that peppered his hands, the warmth of his skin, the faint scent of fresh summer rain.

“You don’t have to make it harder, you know.”

Your words left your lips in a whisper, barely audible to yourself. But he heard it, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Is it so hard to let me know that you’ll miss me?”

His thumb traced your lower lip, and you shivered, tucking away that memory, too.

“Yes, because then I’ll be admitting something to myself I am not ready to face.”

With eyes stinging, you smiled sadly, drinking in his features for the last time. Soft and elegant with eyes that looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Let him go.

Lightly wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull his hands away from your face, separating your bodies.

“Please, go, and be safe.” Satoru nods.

Don’t leave.

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

I know I don’t belong in your world.

“Goodbye, Satoru.”

Will you miss me?

Leaning down, Satoru pressed his lips to your head. The soft, warm pressure made your skin tingle as his scent invaded your senses, giving you a false sense of safety. He lingered for a moment, hand brushing down your arm, making you bite your lip to hide your helpless whimper.

You closed your eyes and felt his warmth disappear. Only when you heard the ‘ click ’ of the door did you allow your tears to fall.

Curling up into a ball on the couch, you hugged your knees, crying into your skin. Your heart felt like it was breaking into two.

He was never mine, to begin with, so why did I get so attached?

His scent lingered on the couch and you clung to it like a child, desperate and hopeless. You couldn’t breathe, and you were sure you were shouting. Noir came to comfort you, soft body brushing up against yours as you cried violently.

That’s the first time he said my name…

—

Satoru had to force himself to walk away. Her cries reached him through the door, and it took everything in him not to turn around.

When she told him to leave, her eyes begged him to stay. When he kissed her forehead, drinking in her scent for the last time, he felt her small body tremble. While he walked away, his heart screamed at him to turn around, to pull her into his arms and soothe her pain.

But that would only make it worse.

Because their reality is that she is just a normal girl, and he is the strongest sorcerer of his time. Their worlds are completely different, and she would be in danger if he allowed her to be close to his heart.

And he wasn’t about to allow himself to lose another person to his strength.

Fall in love with someone else and be happy, Y/n.

—

“Why do we keep stopping in cafes, you don’t even drink coffee,” Megumi asks begrudgingly, but Satoru simply waves a nonchalant hand.

I thought I saw her…

“I just can’t help but chase the sweet smell of mochi!”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Satoru continues his leisure walk with his student. He hears Megumi let out a deep sigh – clearly getting more fed up with him.

“Where are we going anyway? You’ve been shut in your office ever since you came back from your ‘personal matter’. Why drag me outside with you all of a sudden?” another long sigh accompanied by an eye roll.

“I needed some fresh air and wanted company.”

It was half of the truth, but he was leading them to a training ground so they could have a private conversation. Too many untrustworthy ears at Jujutsu High.

“You really need friends your age. Or get a girlfriend, you’re getting old. At this point, you’re going to die alone.”

Before he could get offended, a woman in an army green bomber jacket and a book in her hand walks right by him.

Without thinking Satoru turns around and grabs the woman’s wrist. Her frightened eyes peer up at him and his heart sinks for the 10th time today.

“U-Um, excuse me, do I know you?”

Not Y/n.

Megumi yanks him by his collar. Satoru let him, of course, but nonetheless, he yanked hard .

“Sorry ma’am, he confused you for someone else, forgive him.”

The boy didn’t even wait for the woman’s response, he walked, dragging Satoru with him.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?” Megumi whisper-yelled, spitting venom in his direction.

Satoru sighed, letting his brief defeat wash over him as he righted himself. He put infinity back up, moving his student’s hand away from his frame, no longer wanting to feel the touch of another person.

“I rather die alone.”

That was all he said for the rest of their walk, pointedly ignoring every cafe they walked by.

Part 2

336 notes · View notes