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#m talks illicit affairs
hansensgirl · 5 months
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☠️ — 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝
summary. | Steve Rogers and his wife have a precarious arrangement in which she can have as many affairs as she likes, as long as she doesn’t ask for a divorce. But a man like him only has so much patience. And there you are, his child’s babysitter, too sweet to resist.
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pairings. | Dark!Steve Rogers x baby-sitter!fem!reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (brief), Peggy Carter x numerous OMCs (implied/mentioned).
warnings. | NON/DUB-CON (leaning more towards dubious consent), smut, age gap, Halloween celebrations, deceit, manipulation, Steve is mean to his wife, obsession, possessiveness, implied murder (not the reader), mentions of masturbation (m), fingering (f), kissing, nipple play, Sir kink, mild Daddy kink, creampie, dirty talk, power dynamics/imbalance, praise, mild degradation, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, baby, love), missionary, rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of riding, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. | ~4.8k
author’s note. | hello! happy belated halloween! i know i’m a bit late—i’m sorry. here’s the dark!steve fic i was talking about. it’s a Deep Water!AU. please enjoy and heed the warnings! thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing and putting up with me! let me know what you think. thank you for reading! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY
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The leaves fall apart underneath the pace of his feet. The hill slopes downwards, and the branches snap and hit the ground. Steve keeps pushing—keeps running even though he’s long devolved from a jog. The burn in his lungs is beautiful. He’s breathless.
For once, he doesn’t have to think about little Sarah and her mother. He doesn’t have to worry like a housewife, even though he was once the man of the house.
Millions in revenue. Two vacation homes. Endless income. But it’s never enough for her.
When Steve reaches the creek, he stops. The Apple watch on his wrist clocks in an unhealthy amount of steps. Unhealthy for everyone else, at least. He’s always been above average, and now he’s just like the rest.
Another greying head in the sea of a crowd. Another typical client his shrink has with the same old problems—a cheating wife, a midlife crisis.
His phone buzzes, and Steve half-expects a reminder he doesn’t need. But it’s better—so much better than he could ever predict.
It’s you—your name with a heart. His spouse doesn’t even have that—she’s just got her entire government name with “wife” in parentheses.
Hi, Mr. Rogers. Hope you enjoyed your weekend! I wanted to confirm that I’m coming tonight. I texted Mrs. Rogers yesterday, but I haven’t received a reply yet. Sorry to be pushy. I just need to know in time. Thanks, and Happy Halloween! 🎃
He sighs. He’s never understood why you always go to Peggy first, even though you’ve seen her incompetency more than you do your own family. He’ll have a talk with you tonight—while Peggy is out on a date with her latest suitor.
Hey, honey. I hope your weekend is as wonderful as you are. Yes, we’re still on for tonight. Don’t worry about my wife. From now on, just come to me, okay? Be here by 7:00, please. Thanks. Happy Halloween! 👻
Steve replies a few minutes later, but you read his message immediately. The timestamp makes him smile. Soon, the ‘typing’ icon pops up and following it is your message.
Great, thank you so much! See you then :)
You even leave a ‘heart’ on his text message; he does the same to yours. A sigh escapes the older man’s chest. His heart has returned to its regular rate, and the sweat on his back has cooled.
The scene before him is gorgeous—but doesn’t even hold a candle to your beauty. The thought of you is more addictive than any illicit substance. It calms him down when he needs to and riles him up at the worst times.
Steve says it’s not fair. Peggy shouldn't have all the fun with her boyfriends—even when her husband gets rid of them quicker than need be. It’s exhausting to deviate from law enforcement for a woman who doesn’t care about her own family.
She gets to devise grand schemes and say mean words to him. She doesn’t bother with her own daughter. She doesn’t lift a finger or pay for a thing with money she earned. Steve has to live in the shadows—and he’s tired of it.
The almost 50-year-old man follows his usual trail back home. Sirens pass behind him, heading toward some emergency that he undoubtedly has nothing to do with. Not this time, at least.
He feels like a dog in the manger. Everyone can have Peggy (to a certain extent), but he can’t have anyone himself.
Fake cobwebs and pumpkins sit outside houses on each side of the road. It’s the spookiest night of the year, yet you have no plans. No parties to attend with some stupid little boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you the way he would.
When Steve unlocks the front door, he finds his wife’s heels strewn on the floor and his daughter watching cartoons in the living room. He kisses Sarah’s head and ensures she’s eaten the entirety of her breakfast. He tried his best with ghost-shaped pancakes, though they turned out more like blobs than anything. She doesn’t mind at all.
Sarah’s a brainiac, her new hobby being those kits that teach you how to hook wires into potatoes and other vegetables. Steve applauds her creations every time she shows them off, noting the little technological genius in her that he must’ve contributed to.
That is, if he’s her biological father.
The television screen plays her choice of cartoons, with a Halloween theme for the special day. He smiles when she laughs before heading upstairs.
Peggy has the largest room with the nicest furniture. She spends little time there unless she’s getting ready to go out or recovering from a hangover.
Steve knocks on her door. Despite there being no answer, he unlocks it and lets himself in. His wife is wide awake, eye makeup smudged a bit, but she’s wearing her signature jeans with a tank top.
She turns around and smiles at the sight of him. “What do you think?” she asks, gesturing to the costume she has laid out.
It’s a vampire—that’s as much as he gathers. The little voice in his head tells him how fitting it is—Peggy has sucked the life out of him for the last seven years.
“Perfect,” Steve tells her, giving her his most forced smile, and they both know she sees right through it.
“Good. And what are you going as?” she questions, turning her back to him. He genuinely contemplates this for a second.
For the last few years, he’s always worn a cheap cape and said he’s a superhero. But he’s tired of the same thing all the time.
“I’m not sure. I’ll come up with something, though. What time are you leaving?” Steve asks. “Oh, probably around six. Don’t wait up for me. You’ll take Sarah trick-or-treating, right?” Peggy smiles, unwilling to take ‘no” for an answer.
Steve says nothing and simply leaves. He takes his phone out of his pocket—sleek screen and a photo of you and Sarah as one of his wallpapers—and pulls up his conversation with you.
Hey, hon. Do you mind coming a bit earlier? 6:30 will do.
He doesn’t even have to wait for your reply.
Sure! Do you want me to stay the night, too? I don’t mind.
Always diligent. Always a sweetheart.
Please do. The door will be unlocked.
You give his message a thumbs-up, and he sighs.
Tonight will be the night. Tonight, he’ll finally get what he wants, and no one can stop him. Not even you.
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You give the door a knock three times, even though you’re more than welcome to simply enter. It feels wrong, though. Too familiar, too casual.
Halloween is one of your favourite holidays. It’s a day full of excitement and creativity, and the month leading up to it is terrific. The turning leaves and the cold weather that lets you wear your coziest sweaters. The candy is the cherry on top of the entire delicacy.
You’ve never been on for extravagant costumes due to your procrastination. Tonight, you’re an angel. You don an all-white get-up; a lace dress, sheer tights, and matching shoes. You have a borrowed halo on your head and floppy wings on your back. It’s the best you can do for now.
Steve opens the door a few moments later, and he’s wearing a black suit. His hair is gelled, and he has a toothy grin—a change from his usual scowl. You smile at the sight of him.
“Happy Halloween!” you cheer, and he laughs. “Happy Halloween, sweetheart. What are you supposed to be? The devil?” he jokes. “Hardy-har-har. I’m an angel. But what are you? A CEO?” you ask, raking your eyes up and down his body.
The older man basks in your attention, his ears burning red.
“Actually, I’m a groom. Something different from the superhero thing, you know? It was the only thing I could come up with,” he sheepishly admits, and you wave his shyness away. “I love that! I never see anyone do something simple yet unique. But no decorations?”
You glance back at his front lawn and see nothing but withered flowers and yellow leaves from the neighbour’s over-arching tree. His porch simply has a bowl of candy with a threatening “TAKE ONE (1)” sign, assumingly written by Sarah.
“Nope. But there’s always next year!” he reassures. You giggle and nod your head. Your cheeks burn from smiling so much. Do you find him amusing? Or is it forced? Steve has numerous questions running through his mind, some exciting the butterflies in the attic that is his stomach, and some boiling his blood.
“C’mon in. No jacket? You must be freezing. You’re better than that, honey,” he chides like the father he is. He locks the door behind you—chain and all. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold,” you admit, removing your shoes. Steve takes them from you and places them on the rack where Peggy’s usual ankle boots would be.
You note the absence of her items and the lack of noise from the television. You don’t pay them much mind.
“Ah, rookie mistake. If you want, you can borrow a jacket from me,” he offers, picking up a stray black feather from the floor. You set your small backpack on the bottom step and follow his lead.
“So… What’s Sarah’s costume? She kept talking about being a minion, and then a cow, so I’m not too sure,” you laugh, and Steve does the same. “Peggy wanted her to be one of those Mario characters, but you know Sarah. Tonight, she’s Albert Einstein. Including the wig, of course.”
When you enter the clean living room, you expect to see her adorable face dressed as the notorious physicist. But she’s not there—and neither are the family photos.
“Um, sir, where is she?” you question, and he gestures to one of the sofas. You take a seat and wait for his return. He comes back with two drinks and hands you one of them. “Sarah is at her grandma’s. Peggy is at one of those parties she always goes to,” Steve coolly explains.
“Oh, are we going there? Or do you want me to stay back and give candy out?” You take a sip of your drink—a cherry limeade you once raved about to him. The sparkling water fizzles on your tongue. “No, she’ll be going trick-or-treating with her cousins.”
There’s a beat. A moment. And it lasts for a while.
“Uh, so what am I doing here?” you query. “Sweetheart. I’m a bit disappointed. You probably think that’s all I want you here for, don’t you? C’mon, you’re more than a babysitter to me.”
Steve places emphasis on his last word. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I really don’t understand what you’re implying,” you profess, downing more of your drink out of sheer nervousness. Are you being fired? Are they moving? Did you do something wrong?
“Oh, honey, c’mere,” he says, even though he comes to you. He moves from his position across from you—standing tall in his full, towering height. Steve sits down next to you and places his large, warm hand on your cold left thigh. “Don’t be scared. M’not gonna hurt you. You’re not in trouble,” he says in a low tone.
When he’s this close to you, you can see the details of his face entirely. Whenever you’ve tried to admire him from afar, it’s like he knows when you’re looking.
“You’re so sweet… So pretty. I bet you’re nice and soft, too, hm? And you’ll be a good girl for me?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. You open your mouth to say something to him, but you’re quickly shut up with a searing kiss.
Steve presses his lips against yours, and it’s better than anything he could have ever imagined. The fantasies he’s had during those late nights or showers with his fist wrapped around his cock don’t even compare.
He takes charge, pushing his tongue inside your mouth and exploring within. His strong hands scoop you into his lap, one of them holding the back of your head. You lean back as Steve’s forwardness dominates you. You’re not sure what to do, so you place your palms on his shoulders and use a bit of force to try to push him away.
The married man doesn’t budge. It’s getting hard to breathe, and you feel like he’s sucked the air out of your lungs. You sink your teeth down lightly on what you think is his tongue, and he hisses as he pulls away.
“Sir– We can’t do this. It isn’t right. I– I mean, you’re my boss, and you have a wife—and poor Sarah, she doesn’t deserve this–”
“Fuck Peggy. Do you really think she cares? I don’t love her, never have. I only love you, darling. Now, what you just di–”
“Love me? Mr. Rogers, I think you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s just because we’re alone, or you and Peggy have been distant, but you don’t love me, Sir. I won’t mention this to anyone, I swear. And I’ll find another job if you’d like,” you breathlessly explain, shaking your head.
Steve shushes you with a snarl. “You’re not leaving me.” His voice is stern, and his tone says it all—there’s no arguing. “Please,” you try to get off the older man’s lap, but he holds onto you tightly. “We’re perfect for each other, honey. Don’t you see? Sarah loves you, and you love her. And look! I’m your groom, and you’re my angelic wife,” he exclaims, pulling the halo and ripping the wings off.
You gasp at his strength and audacity. You’d try to fight him, but you know you’d end up more hurt than anything. “Please don’t make this difficult,” he demands, adding your name. The mention makes you flinch, as he rarely says it.
“Look at those eyes… All blown out. I bet you’re soaking, aren't you?” Steve asks, but you don’t reply. His blue irises seem much darker in the dim lighting. His pupils are wide, and it’s like looking at a man who’s been possessed. “You’re probably making a mess of your panties, and we’ve barely even started. Does that always happen when you’re around me? Gosh, I bet you smell so sweet.”
His words make you whimper, and he smiles. “Oh, and look at those perfect tits,” he hums, groping them. Your nipples are stiff as peaks, and the rough touch from Steve has you shuddering. “Pl– Please,” you beg as he pulls at the nubs. The pain teeters on pleasure, and you squeeze your thighs to put an end to the thrumming at your core.
“‘Please,’ what, sweetie? Hm?”
“Please, Sir,” you whisper.
The title makes him groan. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you,” Steve expresses. You don’t want to know. “Ever since we met… D’you remember that floral dress you wore? That you kept pulling up? God, I wanted to take you right there…”
You remember that day all too well. Seeing Mr. Rogers in all his glory was riveting, and the slight crush you developed lives on. Now—you’re not sure. Your brain is a mess, and you can’t think straight.
Your boss lifts you up bridal style, and he doesn’t let this go unnoticed. “See? We were meant for each other, honey. And we don’t even need a wedding.”
He sets you down on the bed in the room on the main floor. You’ve stayed here from time to time when Peggy likes to come out at two in the morning, and Steve is beyond worried for her.
Was it all a farce? You remember those times and how he never called her or insisted on picking her up.
Steve’s hands pull at your cheap dress, and he rips it down the middle. You regret your choice of not wearing a bra, but either way, it would’ve done nothing.
He cups your breasts, and you moan at the touch. He latches his mouth onto one nipple as he plays with the other. His mouth is skilled—his tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing the sensitive skin.
Mr. Rogers’ fingers are just as talented. They pinch, pull, and twist at your other peak simultaneously. He switches eventually, and you’re a puddle beneath the imposing man.
Your back is arched slightly, and you’re practically pushing your chest into his face, and he chuckles. “So desperate. You need me so badly, don’t you?” he says, nodding his head and smiling when you mimic him for a split second. “Atta girl—so good for me.”
Steve pulls back, and you whine. He soothes you and pulls his jacket off. You can see the ripples of muscle beneath the white collared shirt. He unbuckles his belt with swiftness. You gnaw on your bottom lip despite its swollenness.
Soon, he’s back on you. Your boss hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and he pulls them down your legs, admiring the strings of slick that break from the distance. He pushes the cloth into his pocket, and you clench when you think of the things he’ll do with it later on.
In your mind is a tiny voice that chides your every wrongdoing—how you haven’t fought back as much as you should. But there’s a louder one that was once lovesick over the married man before you, and it’s far more convincing.
Steve spreads your legs and curses at the sight of your sopping cunt. You involuntarily clench from the exposure. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. One arm keeps him up, and the other bends your knees, giving him better access.
His fingers slide against your folds, collecting wetness as he caresses your lips. You let out a pleasured sigh, secretly wishing he would stop tormenting you and just get it over with. “So sensitive, too. I bet you’ll make such a mess on my cock.”
You never knew Steve could have such a filthy mouth—and God, do his words have your head spinning.
He quickly finds your swollen, throbbing clit and lightly touches it. The sensations on your little pearl are mild, but they’re enough to have you writhing beneath Steve. He draws light circles with the tips of his fingers. Your mouths brush against each other, and he teases you until you’re whispering pleas against his lips.
“Shh… It’s okay, love,” he reassures. Once he knows he has you worked up enough, Steve pushes the first digit into your pussy. The intrusion has you gasping, which turns into a whimper when he shoves another in. “Lookatcha, honey. You’re takin’ my fingers like a champ. This cunt is so tight, though. I’m really gonna have to stretch ya to fit my cock in there.”
The idea of his large cock barely fitting inside you makes your muscles involuntarily constrict against Steve’s fingers.
It takes a moment for you to adjust to the intrusion, though your walls welcome him like a familiar friend. His fingers are longer and thicker than yours, and with ease, he reaches that sweet spot most boys your age miss.
Eventually, Steve begins to fuck you on his hand. His digits slide in and out of you with ease as he picks up the pace. The skin glistens from your slick, and it’s a sight to behold. He creates a scissor motion with his two fingers every now and then, stretching you out while having you at his mercy.
It doesn’t take long for your moans to get louder while your face forms a frown of pleasure. The squelching sound of your cunt and that build-up just above your core are tell-tale signs that you’re about to come. “Oh, sir…!” you wail, and Steve picks up the pace.
“I can feel that cunt clenching on me, honey. God, you’re so beautiful this way. C’mon, make a mess on my hand. Come for me,” he rasps, rubbing his cheek against yours.
Your eyes squeeze shut when you come undone on Mr. Rogers’ hand. Your aching hole squeezes his fingers, and he makes you ride your orgasm out. Your back arches, and you let out a loud moan as pleasure shocks every nerve in your body. The lewd sounds of your cunt are noisy.
You find yourself immediately wanting more, even though you shouldn’t.
“Good girl—such a good girl for me,” Steve coos before slowly sliding his fingers out your channel. Your inner walls already miss the presence of his digits. You struggle to catch your breath, but in the midst of it all, you hear your boss pull the zipper to his pants down.
“I can’t wait to get inside of you, sweetie. I need you so badly it hurts,” he says while pressing kisses against the side of your neck. Steve climbs on top of you as he frees his aching cock from the confines of his boxers.
He grips himself by the base, his entire hand wrapped around his hardness. He gives himself a few strokes as pre-cum leaks from his slit, sliding down his bulbous head. His size is marvellous, a raging purplish-red with a thick base. Steve slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, and you flinch from the unexpected jolt of pleasure. “Fuck…” he curses.
“Are you looking, sweetie? This is such a special moment for us—I hope you remember it well,” he hums in your ear, and out of your natural obedient instinct, you lift your head to where you two are about to be connected. The sight of Steve’s cock makes you whimper. “Shit, what a good little slut.”
He drags the head of his dick through your dripping folds, and then he pushes in. The sudden stretch causes your skull to fall back against the bed. You try to close your legs, but Steve’s presence makes that impossible. He refuses to let you hide what’s his.
The older man completely sheathes himself inside your pussy. The squelching sound has you cringing in shame, but that quickly disappears when the feeling of fullness takes over. Steve’s balls touch your ass when he bottoms out, and your breathing is rapid from the sensuality of it all.
A hand wraps around your throat—though gentle, it scares you at first. Your eyes meet with Mr. Rogers’, and he looks at you with what appears to be adoration.
“You feel just like heaven,” he simply tells you. “I’m never letting you go after this—never was plannin’ on it, anyway.”
Before you can even process his words, Steve starts to fuck you. His pace is slow at first, and he hits your sweet spot with ease—a feat most boys your age are incapable of. Your moans are wanton and loud, teetering on the verge of pathetic for someone who was fighting against him at first.
“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and your reaction makes Steve smile. “You love this, don’t you? Yeah, always knew you needed a real man to fuck this cunt.”
His thrusts are a bit quicker now, and he pulls in and out of your wet pussy roughly. The sound of skin on skin is thunderous, nearly covering up the wet noises from your stickiness. His thick cock shines from your juices. Steve ruts into you like a starved man—because he is one.
His pelvic bone hits your clit every now and then, and his swollen, heavy balls are against the curve of your ass. He’s relentless in claiming you as his, sucking, biting, and licking at the skin on your neck.
“Oh my God—Steve–” you mewl, the pleasure blooming inside you almost too much to handle.
“What’s wrong, honey? Are you gonna come again?” Steve questions with faux pity. He punctuates each word with a thrust, fat cock pushing into your tightness. “What a pathetic little slut, making such a big mess on her boss’ cock. And I’m married too. You just can’t help it, can you?” he teases, and his filthy words have you squeezing his length from the filthiness. He lets a groan out from the feeling, and he keeps the fervour going.
That elastic band inside your stomach begins to tighten, and you can feel another orgasm build up quickly. “Go ahead. Make a mess on Daddy’s dick, baby,” he urges, and as if on command, you cream around his thickness.
Your back arches off the bed, but you don’t go anywhere far with Steve’s chest keeping you pressed down. Your hardened nipples rub against the cloth of his shirt, and the added friction makes your climax all the more breathtaking. The older man pounds into your cunt vigorously.
Stars appear in your vision until you come back down. Mr. Rogers doesn’t stop fucking you, forcing you to endure the overstimulation. Even with your legs shaking, he refuses to give up. “Good girl—such a good whore for Daddy,” he praises. The tip of his cock pummels against your G-spot continuously.
Your tits bounce with each push of Steve’s cock. Sometimes, he grazes your cervix, but the mild pain dulls away when he presses chaste kisses to your face and brutalizes your g-spot. “‘S too much,” you mumble, legs involuntarily trying to close. “Nu-uh—It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fill up that pretty pussy real soon,” he says, and as if on cue, there’s a change in the way he pounds into your cunt.
His thrusts become more sloppy, but they keep the same passion and desperation that he started everything with. There’s an intensity you can’t describe because it just feels so fucking good. The hand on your neck moves and begins to caress the rest of your body. Your pulsating walls hug him, practically refusing to let go. Your skin is hot and sticky, just like his—if not more.
Wandering hands grope your body, going pliant underneath Steve. Guttural groans leave Steve’s mouth while you’re gasping endlessly. “Shit—you were made for taking this dick, sweetie. I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking down your thighs,” he promises, and the threat of it sounds terrific to your fucked-out mind.
“Be a good girl and soak Daddy’s cock one more time,” he orders. The blur between your previous climax and the one that takes you over now has your head spinning. You grasp the bedsheets from the overwhelming pleasure. A silent scream leaves your mouth, which Steve accompanies with a grunt followed by a string of curse words. “Fuck.”
You squeeze Steve’s length tightly, soaking him in your wetness. Electric shocks run down your spine and unto every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating for a split second. You’ve never come that hard—ever. It’s difficult to breathe, and Mr. Rogers is mean enough to make you take the euphoria he’s doling out.
Wetness stains the skin that surrounds where you two are filthily connected. Your ass is sticky, and some of your cream stains the trimmed hair at the base of Steve’s shaft. It’s a mess—one he intends on adding to with his semen.
His cock twitches inside your pussy, and with a final shove, he stills with his pelvis pressed against your clit. Steve’s balls clench, and he shudders as he reaches his own high. Ropes of cum spurt from the fat tip of the older man’s cock, painting your insides. The feeling makes you whimper as you’re filled to the brim with his seed.
For a few moments, Steve stays in that position, catching his breath while he recovers from his orgasm. Your eyes dance along his face, taking in the pinched yet relaxed look he dons.
Eventually, your boss resurfaces from the depths of his climax. You’re more than exhausted and have half a mind to fall asleep right then and there.
But the sound of the front door opening and closing shocks you from your stupor. Worry is written all over your features when Steve looks at you. “Aw, don’t worry, honey,” he hums, and though it may seem impossible, you can feel him get harder inside your pussy,
Whether it’s your evident fright or the thrill of getting caught, you’re not sure. Both make you dizzy.
Peggy’s notable accent slurs a call for Steve. “Think we should put on a show for her?” he jokes, grinding his cock further into your pussy.
You’re sure that no matter what you say, he won’t listen. And what will follow will be a nightmare you can’t escape.
But those thoughts ebb away when you hear your other boss curse a storm and abruptly leave, even though she hasn’t walked in on the pornographic scene that’s taking place in the guest room.
“Well, there’s always next time—if she’ll even make it,” Steve grumbles under his breath, but the words are too vague for you to dwell on them. “Think you’re up for round two, love? I wanna play with those tits while you ride my cock.”
For the nth time, your body betrays you and tells him your true desires. Either way, he still would’ve gotten what he wanted. Steve Rogers always gets what he wants.
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kyoukamybeloved · 3 months
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"Chuuya. This is my farewell to you, too. It’s such a shame that it came to this."
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happy new year's! hope 2024 treats you well and thank you all so much for the supports on these its very appreciated :)
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veethefreeelf · 6 months
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YOON JEONGHAN Fic Recs
M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending
None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works
Pathetic Series by my fave writer on here: @leejihoonownsmyheart (all of her fics are gold for every member, do yourself a favor and go through all of them, trust me) -> M / minor F & A / HpE
New Year, New Me Series by again @leejihoonownsmyheart (I know she doesn't like us to rec this fic but it's been my fave forever before Pathetic so I have toooooo) - Also here's the link to her full Masterlist -> M / minor F & A / HpE
My Angel by my fave EVER @leejihoonownsmyheart JUST READ HER WHOLE WORKS -> M / minor F & A / HpE
More Than Friends - one-shot, 5K - by HER again @leejihoonownsmyheart -> M / minor F & A / HpE
I Hate U, I Love U - one-shot, 20.8K - by @wonusite - full Masterlist -> M / A / minor F / HpE
fall back down to earth with you - one-shot, 9.5K - by @97-liners - full Masterlist -> F / minor A / HpE
always been you - one-shot, 10.5K - by @darlingvernon - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
we get along infamously Series by @seungkwansphd - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
room for interpretation Series by @seungkwansphd again, seriously I love their writing too -> A / F / HpE
love café - one-shot, 17.6K - by @chocosvt - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Hurts So Good - one-shot, 8K - by @multiland - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
how to give a blowjob (and other things) for dummies - one-shot, 11K - by @multiland again, cause their writing is awesome -> M / A / F / HpE
Playboy - one-shot, 18.8K - by @starlightxsvt - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Behind the mask - one-shot, 7.1K - by @starlightxsvt again, because they are an amazing writer -> slight M / A / F / HpE?
Illicit Affairs - one-shot, 9K - by @solarwonux (please read In Another Life before this one to make sense - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
every summertime - one-shot, 16.1K - by @lovelyhan - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
ode to you - one-shot, 6.9K - by @lovelyhan again, because these two fics are incredible as is most of their writing -> A / F / HpE
daddy dearest - two-shot - by @horangare - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Holidate - one-shot, 13K - by @onlymingyus - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
blame it on me - one-shot, 5.4K - by @onlymingyus again and you should know what this means. It means I love this author and everything they write is awesome -> M / minor F / HpE
paris - one-shot, 50K - by @amourcheol - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
call me by his name - one-shot, 8.6K - by @sweetlemontart - full Masterlist -> M / minor F / HpE
Titty-Shirt! - one-shot, 13.2K - by @beefboyandbabygirl - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
twenty two days before we go our separate ways (twenty two days of not falling for you) - one-shot, 20.3K - by @kwallanghae - full Masterlist -> A / F / HpE
my guardian demon sucks at his job (not clickbait) - one-shot, 23.6K - by @shuaflix - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Girls Talk Boys - one-shot, 4.6K - by @drunk-on-dk - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Imperfectly Lovable - one-shot, 5.7K - by @drunk-on-dk again because their works are amaziiiiiing -> M / A / F / HpE
AMORTENCIA - one-shot, 25.3K - by @http-mianhae - full Masterlist -> A / F / HpE
keep it a secret - one-shot, 2.4K - by @sunflowersoonyoung - full Masterlist -> M / minor F / HpE
Hot Head - one-shot, 3.2K - by @glossyeon - full Masterlist -> M / minor F / HpE
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608 notes · View notes
nikkisheep · 16 days
Text
To Be Alone With You (Part Five)
Anthony Bridgerton x female!sharma!sister!reader
Benedict Bridgerton x reader
Warnings: ANGST, ANGST, oh and more ANGST, Benedict and reader gets closer, reader is heartbroken, so much crying, talk of betrayal
Summary: Weeks after Anthony "dumped" you so he could be more serious in his courtship with your sister, you finally tell him that it is time that you both move on in an emotional confrontation.
I'm so sorry that it got so long. I hope that it's good given that I wrote this at like 12 am.
Song that I feel relates to it in a sense:
Illicit Affairs (Taylor Swift)
Tag List: @shealuna, @m-rae23, @littlepeanut03, @aellabridgerton, @sydney-m, @faatxma, @wildthoughtnananna, @uraesthete, @themadhattersqueen, @sydney-m, @theantiquehobbit, @theroyalmanatee ,@urfavnoirette , @budugu, @helen06dreamer, @galactict3a
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The days passed. The days turned to weeks. The weeks turned into two months. Your days drug on as you prepared yourself for the next outing with your family. You faked a smile, beaming at the right time. Looking at your sisters, smiling and giggling over the hundreds of letters that Anthony wrote to Edwina.
You were staring out the window when you heard your name being called.
"Dear sister, have you read this new letter that Lord Bridgerton sent to me," Edwina beamed like a girl in love.
You turned your head to her, a small sad smile graced your face.
"No, I hadn't."
"I most certainly do not want to." Is what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her how Anthony only makes those promises of love to you when you are both wrapped at the waist in the sheets of his bed.
Instead you tell her that you were overcome with sleep and preferred to go back to your bedroom. Standing up, you leave the room and put your hand over your mouth as a sob threatens to escape.
You sighed against the bedroom door when it closed and you let the tears fall. You sob right there on your bedroom floor, your dress creating a pool around you as you sank to the floor because your knees couldn't handle the weight of you standing.
You don't try to keep the tears in. You had been waiting to be alone to let them fall. You didn't understand why Anthony couldn't love you.
Why did it have to be you?
Why won't he end the courtship with your sister?
Why did you have to fall in love with him?
-----
The next few days carry the same thing. You smile. You nod. You pretend that you weren't silently dying inside because that is how you should be feeling. You should be happy when you see Anthony kiss Edwina's hand because that is her soon to be husband. He is respectful. He is a gentleman.
----
Your family arrives at the Featherington's house for the annual Featherington ball. Many families of the ton had arrived and were all gossiping to each other in small groups. When the Bridgertons walked in with the Sharmas, the entire room looked over in their direction. All of the Sharmas were there except for you. You had said that you were not feeling like going to the ball. When in fact you had to get ready in your dress that was going to be the best at the ball and you knew that.
You were getting your shoes on when you looked at the window. The night was set and you saw the carriage that waited for you. Stepping out of the house, your deep purple dress trailed behind you a bit. Your dress in the shape of a ball gown that had gems embedded in the fabric. Every time you moved, your dress sparkled. Your hair had one curl that laid gently against your collarbone.
----
Stepping inside the Featherington's home, the entire building went silent as they awaited your next move. Your gloved hands came to rest by your sides and you picked up your dress. You then took a step forward and soon the entire room opened itself up as you cast a smile that could blind anyone who looked too close.
Making your way to the lemonade stand, you bumped into Benedict and you gave him a smile as you looked up to him. You pat him on his arm and he smiles to you.
"You, Miss Sharma, look absolutely gorgeous. I need to have a talk with your Lady's Maid because you look," He said. "Like money doesn't know the price."
You smile and let out a laugh.
"You are too kind with your words, Ben." You set down your glass and then preceded to grab his arm. "Come. Come dance with me."
He leads you to the dance floor, holding your gloved hand. You get in line with everyone else and then preceded to dance. You hand was on his shoulder, his on your hip and holding your hand. You smile at him when he nearly bumps into someone, too busy looking into your eyes.
"Miss Sharma," He started. "I was wondering if you would be interested in another art session."
"As in the same as last time?" You giggle, raising an eyebrow.
"Not quite," He laughed. "I wanted to give you actual art lessons and perhaps actually finish the drawing that I was working on."
"I feel like that can be arranged," You laugh.
"And if anything happens like last time, I may have to marry you."
Your smile falls and you drop his hand.
'Miss Sharma?" You can barely hear him. Your heart was beating too loud.
"Have I said something to offend you?" He asked, confused.
"No, it is not you."
"I feel as though it was. I am terribly sorry for my words that have conflicted hurt onto you."
Just before you could reply, Anthony walked up and greeted his brother.
"I was not aware that you were escorting Miss Sharma to the dance floor," Anthony said. "After all she said that she wouldn't be attending tonight."
He finally turned to you and smiled. You didn't smile back. You eyes were dull. The light had faded from them when seeing Anthony.
"Good evening Lord Bridgerton," You bow quickly.
"I haven't seen you in a long time, Miss Sharma."
You looked at him and wondered if you should even react. You didn't want to see him. You didn't want to talk. But really, you did. You wanted to show him that you were perfectly fine without him.
"You look lovely tonight," he said. " Your dress is beautiful."
He was trying to get a reaction. He wanted to see you swoon for him. At least that is what you thought.
"You look decent." You don't look him in the eyes, knowing that you would fall back to where you started.
"Why thank you. Can I have a dance?"
You nod and you both go to the dance floor. Edwina, Kate and Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury all stand to watch.
Anthony takes your gloved hand and he placed your other hand onto his shoulder. He places his other on your hip and begins to move. His touch burns into your dress. You might as well have had nothing on with how warm his hands felt.
Your eyes are locked with his as you move. His eyes were so full of love and adoration that you almost had to look away. Your hand on his shoulder slides up to cup his neck as you both move along in the steps of the song. Your head comes to rest closer to his shoulder and you could feel his breathe fan over the loose curls on your neck. He brings his hand with yours to his chest and you can feel his heart beat.
When you look back in his eyes, it feels like it's just the two of you and no one else was here. It was the two of you and you would stay like this forever. His eyes told you everything you had whispered into the night together.
"I love you more than you will ever know."
---
"Don't they look like they are having fun?" Edwina asked. "I knew that if they spent time together that they would grow to like each other."
The other ladies looked at her.
"I do believe that they do make a good dancing couple," Lady Danbury said.
"A handsome dancing couple," Edwina agreed.
She soon left as Kate was left with the two women.
"Kate, tell me, has your sister always been terrible at hiding her feelings?" Lady Danbury said.
Kate looked confused.
"Her feelings about what?"
"It's more about who." She said as she turned Kate's head gently to the direction in which you were dancing with Anthony.
"Lord Bridgerton?" Kate asked.
"Indeed it seems that they have feelings for each other."
"Lady Danbury you believe that anyone around Lord Bridgerton is in love with him," Kate said.
"Not everyone. You are not."
"Well....no."
"Just keep an eye on them and see what I see," Lady Danbury said. "Now run along."
Kate left to find a glass of lemonade.
"Lady Bridgerton, your son is absolutely enthralled with that girl." Lady Danbury said with a knowing smirk.
"Miss Sharma and my son are not in love," Violet said. "They can't be. He is engaged to her sister."
They look back to you and Anthony. Your eyes seem to never leave each other. Both of your lips were parted slightly as you look like you can't see anything else but each other.
"The eyes can't tell a lie, Violet."
---
"I am sorry for how I left things between us," Anthony said.
"Why?"
"I didn't want things to end that way."
"But they did and now it's over. We are over."
"Over?"
You look at him for a second. You see a man who doesn't realize that he did this to the both of you.
"You ruined us when you decided to court my sister."
"I was courting her before I met you."
"Then you should have never gotten involved with me."
"I wasn't the only one who was involved," He said, pulling the two of you outside away from others. "You were also there in that lake when this all started. I asked you if it was okay and you said yes."
"I didn't know that-"
"You knew that you were betraying your sister and dishonoring yourself but you still did it so do not stand here and twist the blame onto me. I am not the only one who betrayed Edwina."
"You told me you loved me. You promised me that you loved me."
"And I never lied," He said, emotion slipping in. "You were..."
"Then why does it feel like a lie?" You started to feel emotional. "Why did you have to propose to my sister? Why did you have to make me love you?" You fall against him as you sob into his chest. Your hands ball up into fists and you slightly smack them against his chest.
"Why did you make me love you? You sob again. "Why am I not good enough for you to marry instead?"
"You are good enough. You are way too good." Anthony said as he holds you in his arms as your body shakes with sobs.
"What does she have that I don't?" You cry. "What makes you want her to marry her but not me?"
"I can't love her because she isn't you."
Your face is red with tears streaming down your face as you wipe your nose with the back of your handkerchief. You blankly stare at him with tears in your eyes.
"I love you. Can't you see that I'm doing all of this because I love you," Anthony said, desperation creeping into his voice.
"You love me and yet you are still going to marry my sister," You cry. "Someone you do not even love. Why can you not marry someone you love?"
"I have my reasons," He said, thinking of how his mother was after his father died.
"I need to stop loving you," You said.
"You....what?"
" I need to be free of the torment that you have inflicted onto me," You say, calming yourself down. "I need to be with someone else. I'm sorry."
"Wait-"
"Good night, Lord Bridgerton."
And you left the ball without looking back.
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succubusmunson · 6 months
Text
Sneak peek: Illicit Affairs
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the full fic will posted this friday (the 22nd) at around 8pm est! i worked on this fic for months and i hope y’all enjoy it!
warnings: smut (mdni), angst, hurt/no comfort, teasing, dirty talk, little degradation, praise kink, possessive!eddie, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink if you squint
—————
“God, I fucking love you like this.”
There it is. There are those stupid words that he always said. They made your stomach fill with butterflies and your heart pound in your chest. If only he truly meant it, if only he could see the love swim in your eyes each time he said it.
“Do you?” You took his hand at your side and guided it up your legs between your thighs. “You feel what you do to me?”
You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed when his fingers ghosted over your slit. He could feel how wet you were, the pad of his finger now covered in your slick.
“Who got you this wet?” Eddie kissed up your neck, stopping to nibble here and there. You were sure to see some scattered hickies tomorrow.
He was pulling the most perfect whines from you. “Don’t go all shy on me now. Eddie harshly bit down under your ear, sucking until blood formed under your skin. “Answer the question.”
You dropped your head down, not meeting his eyes. “Y-you did.” Your voice was barely a whisper. Not one part of you wanted to admit he did anything for you. You didn’t want to boost his ego.
With a rough hand, Eddie grabbed at your cheeks. He gently pushed them together, causing you to pout.
You now were looking directly into his eyes. And oh, how his eyes were so big and beautiful, filled with so much lust that he would probably burst at the seams if possible.
“Speak up.” He licked at his bottom lip before smirking at you. “Who got you this wet?”
Your head rolled to the side, as closed as he kept his skilled fingers on your cunt, barely rubbing. “You, you got me this wet.”
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aflame4goinghome · 10 days
Text
Illicit Affairs
d.r.w x reader
chapter iv
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Word Count: 10k
Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!! swearing, flirting, fluff, jealousy, brief moment of general harassment, power dynamic; SMUT: fingering, touching, sexually implicit language, dirty talk, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), unprotected sex, choking, slight degradation, praise kink, biting, cum play if you squint, possessiveness, hint of dom/sub dynamic
A/N: This story is in collaboration with my wonderful, talented friends @gretavanstink & @childinthegardenn!! Go give them a follow and give @gretavanstink’s fics some love! Thanks for reading! :)
Listen to the official playlist on Spotify here!
chapter iii
· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·
Midterm season has snuck up on you, you admit to yourself as you tap away at your keyboard. You sigh and adjust your position on the couch in Daniel’s office, propping your feet up and letting your back lean against the armrest. Your gaze flicks across the room to him, sitting at his desk lost in a stack of midterm papers from one of his classes, and you smile to yourself. 
His eyebrows are furrowed as he skims through the current paper occupying his attention, twirling a red pen through his fingers absently. He lifts his eyes briefly, feeling your gaze on him, and smirks before turning his focus back to his work. You snuff a breath through your nose and force your own eyes back to your laptop, the cursor blinking steadily back at you from the screen. 
Tucking your hair behind your ear as you scan over what you’d already written, you attempt to find your previous train of thought through the fog that has settled over your brain. You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a groan, the words you had been writing now gone. 
In desperate need of a break, you turn your attention back to Daniel at his desk, studying his features: his scrunched forehead, his focused gaze, his lips a taut line. Your eyes drift down, over his shoulders, down his arms, and settle on his hands, his fingers still twirling that pen effortlessly. His white shirt sits in stark contrast to his tanned skin, the sleeves rolled above his elbows as they always are and the top few buttons undone. After hours casual, he had joked with you when you’d stopped by after your final class of the day let out.
“You’re staring,” he says, not looking up from the page in front of him. Your cheeks flame pink and you swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. 
“Sorry,” you mutter, shaking your head. You stare blankly at your laptop screen, the blinking cursor seeming to mock your sudden inability to write. After zoning out until the words on the screen blurred, you snap your laptop shut, another groan of frustration rattling your chest. 
Daniel doesn’t even feign interest in your struggles or boredom, too lost in whatever critique he’s scribbling to even hear you as you stuff your laptop back into your bag. You push yourself up off the couch, lifting your arms above your head to stretch. Your shirt lifts with the movement, revealing the sliver of skin above the waistband of your leggings, but Daniel still pays you no mind.
With a huff, you move to study the books on the shelf next to you, humming quietly as your fingers drift along their spines. “What’s your favorite period?” You ask, crouching down to look at the bottom shelf. 
No response.
“Daniel,” you prod, standing and turning to face his desk. Still nothing.
“Professor,” your voice is sickeningly sweet.
“Hmm?” He hums, lifting his head slightly and quirking an eyebrow at you. 
“Your favorite period of art?” You repeat, folding your arms across your chest and leaning back against the bookcase.
“Italian Renaissance,” he quips, his focus immediately snapping back to the paper as he turns the page. You straighten and drop your arms to your side at his short response, groaning and turning your back to him again.
“Problem?” He asks, indifference dripping from his voice.
You don’t respond as you pretend to be more interested in one of the philosophy books on the shelf. Daniel rolls his eyes and turns his attention from you again. You aren’t trying to throw a tantrum, but you've been working for 2 hours straight, you need a break. As you stand, you try to make yourself casual as you stroll around the room to stop behind his chair.
“I see you,” he says simply, his head down. You smile and rest your chin on his shoulder, turning to press your lips to his cheek. 
“Great, I was starting to think I’d disappeared,” you tease, straightening behind him and resting your hands on his broad shoulders.
“No, but you were writing a paper,” he offered. “And I’m trying to grade these papers. Your class’ papers.” Your thumbs start to work slow circles into his muscles and he shifts. You smirk and lean down again.
“Take a break,” you suggest, your breath brushing his neck. A shiver. Another shift. And then a shake of his head.
“Y/N,” he warns through gritted teeth. “I need to get this done.”
You shrug off his dismissal and slide your hands over his shoulders, down his chest, letting your fingers graze the skin that peaked from beneath his unbuttoned shirt. Your lips find his neck, feather-light, and in one swift move, Daniel grabs your wrist and tugs you in front of him. You stand silently, but clearly pleased with yourself, and meet his stare.
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, an unamused look marking his face. But he lifts an eyebrow as you straddle him, seating yourself in his lap. His arms snake around your middle and he lets out a breath.
“I need to focus,” he says sternly, but his voice softens slightly as he continues, “and you’re making it very difficult.”
You smile innocently and cock your head slightly. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
You can feel him, hard against you, and you fight to keep your smile innocent as you slip from his lap to kneel on the floor just in front of the hollow space under his desk. His eyebrows tick up, the first sign of interest in any of your antics, and he smirks.
“What?” he begins, sitting up and shifting towards the edge of his seat. “Not confident in your paper?” You roll your eyes at his implication and look up at him through your lashes as he moves his chair closer.
“I’m quite confident in my writing skills, professor,” you say, your hands resting in your lap. “I’m quite confident in many of my skills.”
Daniel stops in front of you, leaving you kneeling between his legs, and braces his elbows on his thighs to lean down to you. He stops just short of pressing his lips to yours, and meets your eyes.
“I’m sure you are, sweetheart,” he says, straightening and undoing his belt and pants. He shifts his slacks and boxer briefs down, just enough to free his cock, and slides the chair forward, leaving just enough room for you between him and the desk.
You smirk to yourself as he turns his attention back to the stack of papers in front of him and you reach up, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking lazily. Sitting up a little higher on your knees, you drag your tongue up his length and flick your tongue over his tip. 
You grin as you hear him hiss a breath above you, fighting to stay focused as you lower your mouth onto him. Slowly, you take his full length into your mouth, his tip nudging the back of your throat when you pause. A groan rumbles from him as you slowly draw back, flattening your tongue against the underside of his cock.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, his feet shifting to make more room for you between his legs. His fingers tighten around the pen in his hands, your eyes catching the flex of his forearm.
You hum around him and brace your hands on his thighs, your fingertips pressing into him lightly, as you set a slow pace. Your gaze darts up again, catching him as he tosses his pen on the desk and leans back in his chair. Daniel drags a hand over his face as you flick your tongue over his tip, his hips bucking in response as he groans. His other hand finds its way to your head, tangling in your hair as he guides you to a quicker rhythm. 
“My god, Y/N,” he moans. You feel the muscles in his thighs twitch as you take his cock fully into your mouth once more. Your eyes meet his, sending him a wink before he lets his head fall back slightly. Another moan echoes from him and his fingers tighten in your hair, his hips jerking again as you work him closer to his release.
“Gonna cum, sweetheart,” he grits, guiding your head down roughly as he spills down your throat. You lift your head and swallow, smiling up at him innocently. 
Daniel huffs out a laugh and removes his hand from your head, tucking himself back into his pants. He turns his attention back to you and drags his finger along your jaw before wrapping his hand around your neck gently. You lean into his touch for a moment before he brings you up from your knees, into his lap again, and plants a kiss on your lips, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. 
“You’re fucking filthy, you know?” He teases, dropping his hands to your waist. You shrug and wink, your arms draped over his shoulders. 
“I told you,” you begin, dropping to kiss him again. “I needed a break.”
Daniel rolls his eyes and shakes his head, a laugh rattling from his chest, before he eases you off of his lap. He stands with you, a hand planted on your lower back, and presses a final, quick kiss to your lips.
“Well, we’ve both had a break. Now,” he grips your shoulders and spins you to face the door. He lowers his lips to your ear and you can almost feel his grin. “Get out of my office, I have work to do.”
Your cheeks flush and you open your mouth to whine, but he swats your ass. You jump, gasping softly, and move towards the door, grabbing your bag from the couch and turning over your shoulder. You open your mouth to say something.
“Ah,” he tuts, standing behind his desk, arms folded across his chest, a smug look on his face. “Out.”
“Fine,” you groan, drawing it out as you make for the door. “See you later.”
“See ya, sweetheart,” he says, dropping his smug act and giving you a wave as he sits back down to his work.
· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·
You step out of your only Thursday class, the autumn breeze making you tug your jacket tighter around you as you stare at a text from Rose.
From: Rose🌹
Hey, a bunch of us are gonna go out for Halloween at Bleu. You in?
You sigh and start towards the art building just to swing by Daniel’s office. It’s a bad habit you’ve fallen into, stopping by on days that you don’t have his class, but it’s nice to have a place to go to study that isn’t the library or your room. That’s what you told yourself to justify it, at least.
To: Rose🌹
Ugh, I really need to finish a paper
You walk into the building, heading for the elevator, and you rub your temple, debating whether you can crank out your paper before Saturday.
From: Rose🌹
You can bring sexy professorrrrrr
To: Rose🌹
Say less
“Y/N!” You hear someone call from behind you, turning over your shoulder to see Stephen holding up a hand as he walks towards you. You force a smile across your lips, positive it wasn’t reaching your eyes, and wave back, dropping your other hand away from the “up” button for the elevator.
“Hey, Stephen,” you chirp, pushing your phone into your pocket. Your eyes glance over him, taking in his appearance, before meeting his gaze and adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “What’s up?”
“How’d you do on the midterm?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Oh, I haven’t checked,” you admit, letting out a quiet laugh. Stephen laughs and nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“I thought I wrote an A paper,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess Wagner didn’t agree. I got a C.”
“Bummer,” you say, fighting the smirk that threatens the corners of your lips, and shrug. You glance at your watch, eager to get out of this interaction. “Well hey, I gotta-” You trail off as Stephen cuts you off, annoyance flashing across your face before you have a chance to stop it.
“So, are you going out this weekend?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. You shift in place uncomfortably and try to keep your face even.
“Um yeah, maybe,” you answer, hoping that maybe you wouldn’t run into him, with or without Daniel. “But hey, I gotta go. I have a paper to finish.”
“Oh yeah, for sure,” he says, moving to leave but pausing next to you. “Maybe I’ll see you this weekend.” 
“Yeah, maybe,” you say with a shrug and smile, pressing the “up” button as he walks away. Finally, you think, stepping through the doors as they slide open. You hit the button for the third floor and lean back against the wall, letting out a long breath as the elevator hauls you up. Walking out, you turn right and stop in front of his office. The door is open most of the way, but you tap your knuckles on the door anyways. Daniel looks up from his computer and a hint of a smile graces his lips. You fear your legs could give out just from that.
You step inside and close the door behind you, plopping into the seat across from his desk, crossing your legs, and saying, “Do you make a habit out of giving mediocre grades out of jealousy?”
“That’s quite the accusation,” he says, leaning back in his chair and studying the smirk that tugs at the corners of your lips. “I assume you’re talking about Stephen.”
“You should practice sounding less disgusted,” you giggle, mirroring his posture in your own seat.
“He earned the grade he got,” Daniel says, waving a hand dismissively and sliding a packet of papers across his desk towards you. “Just like you did. Great work, Y/N.”
You lift the paper off his desk and smile, flipping to the last page to see 98% scrawled at the bottom of the paper. “Only a 98?” You ask, feigning disappointment.
“You can’t rely on your other talents for perfect grades,” he teases, standing and rounding the desk to lean against it in front of you. You roll your eyes as your cheeks flush and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.
“I have a proposition for you,” you offer as he pulls away. He straightens and braces his palms on the desk behind him, crossing his legs at his ankles and waiting for you to continue, one eyebrow lifted.
“Rose texted me when I was on my way up here to ask if I wanted to go out Saturday for Halloween, suggested I invite you,” you explain nervously, picking an invisible speck of lint off your leggings.
Daniel laughs and watches your face for a moment, his laughter trailing off as he realizes that you’re serious. “Oh, you’re not kidding.”
“I mean, you don’t have to say yes. It’s not a big deal,” you blurt out, your eyes dropping to your hands in your lap. When you finally lift your gaze to look at him, you see him smiling back at you.
“I don’t make it a habit to hang out with my students on the weekends,” he says, his words not easing the anxiety building in your stomach. “But I think I can make an exception.”
“Wait, really?” You ask, not attempting to cover the shock in your voice. “I was sure you’d say no.”
“And miss whatever sexy costume you have planned? Not a chance, sweetheart,” he says, pushing off his desk and returning to his chair. “I’ll be there.”
Your cheeks flare pink and you pull your phone out to send him the details. “You don’t have to dress up,” you say, huffing out a laugh at the idea.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he laughs, glancing at his phone as the screen lights up with your text. “I have to come into the office to do some work that day, but I’ll meet you there.”
“You’ll miss the pregame,” you tease, pushing your phone into the pocket of your bag. Your eyes sparkle as they meet Daniel’s and you smile, genuinely excited to go out with your friends and your… You shake your head before the thought can continue. No strings, you remind yourself.
“I’ll survive,” he says, noting the brief change of your face but not mentioning it. “Just let me know when you’re heading out.”
“Yes, sir,” you say with a smile, grabbing your bag and standing.
“See you Saturday, sweetheart,” he says as you reach for the doorknob.
“Bye,” you reply sweetly, opening the door and exiting into the hallway. Pausing in the hall, you set your bag on a bench and pull your phone out.
To: Rose🌹
Sexy professor is in!!
· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·
“Did you schedule the Uber?!” You yell from your room, hoping your voice carries over the music thumping in the kitchen. Standing in front of your full mirror, you tug your pink satin jacket on and smooth your hands down the front, making sure it wasn’t fully covering the low cut black bodysuit you picked out. 
“Rose!” You call for your best friend again as a song ends, turning to the side to inspect your profile; the way your black jeans hug your thighs, the way your curled hair tumbles down your back. With a satisfied but nervous sigh, you turn back to face the mirror, fluffing your hair with your hands. You bend down and cuff your jeans a few times before slipping your feet into a pair of black pointed flats, fastening the strap around your ankle. You smile as you stand, hearing Rose coming down the hall, and turn towards the door. She appears in your doorway holding two shots and grinning ear to ear. 
“Holy shit, you look amazing!” She says, holding a shot out to you. You take it and tap it against the one in her hand before tossing it back, the cheap vodka burning your throat. You manage to quell your reaction to the liquor to a small shiver.
“Ugh, it’s Halloween! We couldn’t have splurged on the better stuff?” you complain after taking a moment to recover. “I look amazing? What about you?”
Rose winces as she takes her shot and giggles, “It’s the last of what we had left! We can open the better stuff now.” She turns to go back out to the living area and you follow her, feeling satisfied with your appearance. As you enter the kitchen, one of Rose’s sorority sisters, Lindsey, hands you another shot, which you gladly take, the burn less significant with this one. The bunch of you spend some time taking pictures now that you’re all ready and already feeling buzzed. 
“Shit,” Rose blurts as you’re all about to take a third shot, looking at her phone. “Uber’s here!” You toss back your shots and rush out the door for the black SUV waiting in front of your building. 
“Uber for Rose?” The driver confirms as Rose closes the door, the last one in.
“That’s me,” she says with a smile. You pull your phone out of your pocket and pull open your chat with Daniel, crossing your legs as you type.
To: Daniel🥁
Hey! We’re in the Uber now.
The driver starts down the road and you let your head fall back against the headrest, trying to calm your nerves. This is the first time you and Daniel are going out in public together, at least where people may know you and potentially what your connection to him is, and you’re understandably nervous. 
The knot in your stomach tightens when you start to wonder if Daniel was going because he wanted to or if he just didn’t know how to tell you no. Your heart races when you start to consider whether you are breaking the rules or not.
All of those worries are immediately gone when the car pulls up to the club and you see Daniel waiting outside. The club lights reflect faintly off of his leather jacket, his white shirt stretches across his chest snuggly, and you realize this is the first time you have seen Daniel in denim. 
Rose pushes open the door and shouts a quick “thank you” to the driver as you and the others follow her out of the car. You had been first in, so you’re the last to climb out and as you do, Daniel looks up. He tries to fight the smile that tugs at his lips when he sees you, but he loses the battle and his face lights up slightly. 
“Hey!” You call out as you run up to him, his hands finding your hips as you crash into him gently. “A successful pregame, I see,” he teases, not taking his hands off of you. Up close you can see his necklace glint in the light, tonight paired with a second one, a small simple pendant. You roll your eyes and thump your fist against his chest lightly. You’re about to quip back when Rose finds the two of you.
“Hey-” she begins, but stops suddenly. “Oh my god.”
You wiggle out of Daniel’s grip and turn towards Rose, snapping your fingers at her as she stares between you and him. “Rose? Earth to Rose?”
“You guys match,” she finally says, smiling widely at you. You step back further from Daniel to look at his outfit again and you cover your mouth, trying to stifle the giggle that rises in your throat.
“What?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow and crossing his arms.
“You do look like a greaser,” you admit, your eyes sparkling as you look up at him.
“Unintentional,” he says dismissively, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your lower back to nudge you towards the doors. “Come on, I need to catch up apparently.”
You can hear the faint smile in his voice and you look at him knowingly before heading for the entrance. The bouncer scans your ID and puts a “21+” wristband on you, stepping to the side to allow you inside. You pause at the edge of the crowd gathering near the bar, waiting for everyone else. 
Daniel joins you at your side, his hand returning to your back. His outfit blends in with the crowd, but his uneasiness is obvious even as his thumb rubs lazy circles on your back. “Not your usual scene?” You say, nudging him with your elbow playfully. 
He rolls his eyes and moves his hand from your back to squeeze your hip. “Careful, sweetheart,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear over the music. “I need a drink. What do you want?”
“Oh, you don’t have-” you say in protest, but he cuts you off with a look. “I’ll have what you’re having.” He turns away from you and weaves through the crowd near the bar to a less crowded spot.
“Who is that?” Lindsey says as she grabs your elbow gently. Your cheeks flush and you let out a nervous laugh.
“He’s a drummer I met at the beginning of the semester,” you say, not a total lie.
“Does he have any friends?” She jokes, dropping your elbow and giggling.
“He does, but I already called dibs,” Rose interjects, leaving you to join the line for a drink and dragging Lindsay with her when she sees Daniel coming back.
He hands you a wild berry seltzer and sips from his own as you eye the drink and then him, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t peg you as a seltzer guy,” you giggle, taking a sip from your can.
“Well I’m not gonna order a whiskey on the rocks at a club, baby,” he says, taking the moment alone to drop his lips to yours. You smile into the kiss, feeling your cheeks heat up. He draws back for a moment, looking you over, and the corners of his mouth twitch as he leans down to speak over the music. “You look beautiful,” he says, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.
“Thank you,” you say as he straightens, smirking down at you as you fight the urge to turn your eyes to the floor. You take a long sip from your drink and open your mouth to speak, but Rose grabs your arm and tugs you towards the dance floor. Your hand catches Daniel’s and you smile over your shoulder at him as you pull him to follow. 
Your train of friends stops along the edge of the crowd near the wall, the bass rattling in your chest from the speakers, and Rose squeals as the song changes. “This is my favorite!” She yells over the song, stopping and pulling you closer as she starts to dance. You and Lindsey giggle and join her, your hips moving to the beat of the song.
Daniel sways slightly, sipping his seltzer and trying not to cringe at the music pumping through the club. His eyes follow the movement of your hips and you glance at him over your shoulder, a giggle bursting from you as Rose snakes an arm around your waist and pulls your attention back to her. When she turns her attention to one of the other girls, you turn to Daniel and grab his hand, pulling him closer.
“Loosen up!” You shout over the music, the alcohol warming your cheeks.
“Do you actually like this music?” He asks, leaning towards you. “If you can even call it music.”
“You’re insufferable,” you tease, laughing as you nudge his drink towards his mouth. “Drink and dance with me!”
He throws back what’s left of his drink and tosses the empty can into the trash nearby before giving you his undivided attention, wrapping an arm around your waist and pinning your body to his. Your breath catches in your throat and you look up at him, your cheeks bright red. He smirks as you move with him to the music and you sneak a glance over at the rest of your friends, who have either found their own dance partner or are dancing with each other. You breathe a sigh of relief that their focus is elsewhere. 
Your own focus shifts back to Daniel, narrowing in on his hand firmly planted on your lower back, his fingers slipping under your jacket and splaying out against the fabric of your body suit. You bite your lip and look up at him with wide eyes as he nudges his knee between your legs, brushing against your center lightly before he loosens his arm around you. 
“I’ll be back,” he says, leaning in so you can hear him and pressing his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. Before you can speak he steps away, walking off towards the bathroom. You watch as he disappears down the hall before turning back to your friends. 
Rose notices you rejoin the group and smiles, immediately ditching whatever guy she’d picked out. “Where’d your man go?”
“Bathroom,” you say, motioning in the general direction. “Stop calling him my man!” 
“And you didn’t go with him?” She asks, giggling as you slap her arm lightly. “What? I thought bathrooms were your thing!”
“You’re the reason I drink,” you tease, sending her into a new fit of giggles as you down the rest of your seltzer and throw the can away. You turn to make your way towards the bar for another drink, but you stop when you see Daniel already there. He motions for you to stay with Rose and turns back to order you both a new drink.
The song playing fades out and American Girl by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers starts up. You and Rose spin to face each other and you squeal, grabbing each others’ hands and jumping to the song. It has been your song for years and anytime it comes on when you’re together you act like it’s the last time you would ever hear it.
“Well she was an American girl!” You both yell in unison, giggling as you wrap your arms around each other and sway with the song, still singing together. “Raised on promises!”
Daniel turns with a drink in each hand and pauses when he sees you and Rose clinging to each other. A soft smile forms on his face as he watches you dance and sing with your friends, the others joining you and Rose as you shout along with the song. 
As the song ends and you and Rose squeeze each other tight, you see Daniel leaning his back against the bar with two drinks staring at you with a thoughtful look. Your cheeks flush and Rose lets go of you, telling you she’s going to get another drink before she bounces off.
Daniel pushes off the bar to join you, but he freezes after a few steps, his smile falling as he makes an effort to blend into the crowd. You lift an eyebrow in his direction and your eyes finally fall on the tall blonde making his way towards you. Your shoulders tense, understanding why Daniel was keeping his distance, but you let out a breath and relax.
“Y/N!” Stephen says over the music. You notice he has two drinks as he stops in front of you and you smile, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets. “I noticed you didn’t have a drink, so I figured I’d bring you one.” He holds one of the drinks out to you and smiles.
“Oh, um,” you stall, glancing over Stephen’s shoulder at Daniel, whose eyes have not left you since Stephen approached. “I’ve already had quite a bit to drink. I should probably take a break.” You laugh nervously, trying to keep your expression cool. 
Looking for any way to get out of this, you cast a glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Lindsey and widen your eyes. She smiles and steps to your side, glancing at Stephen and raising an eyebrow.
“You just said you wanted another drink, didn’t you?” You tease, hoping she catches your drift. To your relief, she smiles and looks at the drink Stephen is still holding.
“Is one of those for me?” She asks, playing along, thankfully.
Stephen looks between the two of you, holding your gaze for a moment, and huffs a nervous laugh. “Yep, all yours,” he says begrudgingly. Not wanting to look like an ass, he hands her the drink.
“Thanks,” she pauses, not knowing his name.
“Oh, Stephen,” he says, taking a sip of his own drink.
“Thanks, Stephen,” she says, turning to go back to the other girls. “I’m Lindsey,” she says over her shoulder. 
Before she can walk away, you lean into her ear to whisper, “Don’t actually drink it.” You didn’t think Stephen would pull anything like that, but better safe than sorry. She smiles and winks at you before turning away. You turn back to Stephen and smile innocently, his clear irritation almost worth the interaction.
“I don’t get you,” he says after a moment. You furrow your brow, waiting for him to continue. “All that flirting at the beginning of the semester, but every time I try to ask you out you find some reason to get out of it.” He crosses his arms and studies you as you fight the laugh that builds in your chest.
“Stephen,” you say, somehow managing to keep your tone even. “I wasn’t flirting with you.” You glance over his shoulder to where Daniel was, but you don’t see him. Letting out a breath, you manage to keep your panic off of your face. “I’m sorry if it came off that way,” you say, taking a step to move past him. “Excuse me.”
“No,” he says. Before you can get past him, his hand catches your wrist and he tugs you to face him. “We’re not done here.” You stare at him for a moment before you open your mouth to speak, but you hear someone else’s voice instead of your own.
“Actually I think we are,” Daniel says, holding one of the drinks in his hands out to you. “It’s just seltzer and cranberry,” he says as you take it. Your eyes flick down at your wrist, still in Stephen’s hand, and tug it from his grip. Stephen’s eyes drift between you and Daniel, his eyebrows raised. 
“You two?” He says finally, trying to hide the shock on his face. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” Daniel says as he steps in front of you slightly, his face stone cold.
“So this is how you get your grades,” Stephen says, stepping to the side to talk to you. “Not a genius, just a slut.”
You keep your face flat as Daniel steps between the two of you fully this time, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re done here,” he says, his voice low. Stephen opens his mouth to say something, but Daniel cuts him off. “Unless you want me to fail you.”
“You can’t do that,” Stephen says, staring back at Daniel.
“Try me,” Daniel challenges, raising an eyebrow. “What? You think I can’t make your grades personal too? Just hers?”
“Whatever,” Stephen says as he looks over Daniel’s shoulder at you and rolls his eyes. “It’s not worth it.” He shoots you another glare before turning and walking off.
You look up at Daniel as he scoffs, you can practically see the anger fuming out of him. Your eyes move to follow Stephen walk toward the front of the club and then go through the exit, finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. You look back at Daniel, trying to gauge his frustration and plan your attempt to fix the situation.
“Are you alright?” he asks, rubbing your arms softly as he looks down at you with a look on his face that you can’t quite place. You write it off as just concern, but it feels like something more than that. Your mind wanders before you have the chance to think about it too hard.
Despite the short moment of fear that you felt at the thought of Stephen possibly exposing your relationship, you can’t deny that Daniel’s moment of possessiveness has started to cloud your judgment. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins or the public display of jealousy over you, but the only thought going through your mind at this moment is that you need him so badly. 
You step closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck, which causes him to immediately soften his gaze. You watch as his shoulders become less tense and he takes a deep breath before putting his hands on your waist. With a tipsy smile on your face, you lean up on your tip-toes to place a kiss on his lips, starting to giggle a little as you pull away to break the silence.
“That was kinda hot,” you say through your giggles, and he rolls his eyes at you. “Whatever,” he says, trying to suppress the smile that’s forming on his lips. You can tell that he feels the need to keep up his serious persona, but you can see right through it. He leans down to reach your ear, his lips grazing it slightly. 
“Y/N, what the hell am I gonna do with you?” he whispers, squeezing your hip tightly. You smile wide as your little plan to get him home starts to work. You turn your head to face him and your lips hover over his for a moment. “You could dance with me,” you answer, your voice dripping in desire for him. His eyes pierce through yours as he licks his lips. 
You don’t wait for his answer and just turn around, letting the liquid courage take over as a new song starts to play over the speakers. His hands grip your waist tightly as you start to move against him, feeling the beat of the song. You let your hands sit on top of his as your hips most to the music, and it starts to feel like you’re the only ones there. 
One of his hands moves up to push your hair to one side, allowing him access to your neck. His lips ghost over your neck and you feel his breath against your skin, making your head spin. He starts to place painfully slow kisses along your neck and our hair starts to stand up on the back of your neck. A whimper almost leaves your mouth as you grind against him and feel his hard cock straining against his tight jeans behind you. 
His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you closer and you are flush against each other, feeling his need for you even more. He lets out a low groan against your skin as his lips attack your neck. You decide you can’t take any more and spin around quickly, practically jumping to capture his lips. Your hand grips the back of his neck tightly as you pull his face close to yours. 
“Tell your friends we’re leaving,” he mutters against your lips. You nod quickly and he quickly pulls himself away, lacing his fingers in yours as he walks toward the door. Thank god he closed the tab earlier, giving you a quick exit. On your way out, you see Rose and the other girls at the bar. Rose immediately locks eyes with you and a smirk forms on her face. She nods at you and then turns to the other girls to seemingly tell them that you were leaving.
Daniel guides you down the block toward his apartment building, his fingers still intertwined with yours. The cold October air helps to sober you up, but not nearly enough given how many shots you did tonight. As he makes a few turns down different streets, you start to giggle to yourself over the fact that he’s practically dragging you to his apartment. 
“Heyyy, you’re gonna rip my arm off!” you joke, pulling your arm back toward you as he stops on the sidewalk. His smile is wide as he places a short kiss on your forehead. “Don’t be dramatic, baby,” he says, taking your hand back in his and starting to walk again, this time much slower. 
The wind blows harshly for a moment, sending a shiver throughout your body. This costume has a jacket, but the material is so thin that it barely makes a difference in this weather. Daniel drops your hand and you watch as he slips his leather jacket off, placing it on your shoulders. Underneath, he’s just wearing a tight white tee, showing you his arms for the first time. You thank him and move to tuck your arms into the sleeves to warm yourself up. 
Your eyes fall to his arms again and quickly widen when you finally see it– a tattoo. There are darkened lines around his bicep with a symbol in the middle. You honestly didn’t take him for the type to have a tattoo, but it’s ridiculously attractive. Taking his hand back in yours, you start to laugh as you finally ask him. 
“What’s that?” you ask, pointing to his arm with a smirk.
“Ah, it’s nothing, really…” he answers, turning to look at you as he continues walking toward his apartment. “Don’t look at me like that and expect some extravagant story attached to it, ‘cause there isn’t one,” You raise your eyebrow at him, urging him to tell you more. He chuckles and rolls his eyes.
“I got it during grad school… I’d never gotten one before and one of my buddies was going to get one and asked me to tag along. I just thought, “I’m 24, what do I have to lose?” he says, shrugging, looking ahead as he turns another corner.
“What is it?” you ask curiously.
“It’s an earth symbol with a moon phase inside it– my birth sign is an earth sign, and the moon is the phase on the day I was born,” he says, almost mumbling. 
You can’t even attempt to hide your surprise in your drunken state, and he can see it on your face. You start to giggle a bit at the idea of him getting something so specific tattooed on him. He still continues to surprise you. 
“What? I was always somewhat into that kind of stuff, so I thought it could be cool. The moon phase part was my sister’s idea, though, I can’t take all the credit.” You laugh at his defensive tone, you suppose you hit a nerve. 
“It is cool, Daniel. Really. I’m just teasing you,” you say, smiling up at him. He laughs to himself, stopping in front of what seems to be his building. “I think it’s sexy, actually…” You smile widely as you look up at him, and he just rolls his eyes. You can tell that he’s trying to suppress a smile at your compliment, clearing his throat before answering. 
“Right, whatever…” he jokes, walking you toward the door and letting you inside.
The building seems quite old, giving a sort of vintage vibe with a mirror in the lobby and an old chandelier. You walk over to the elevator and wait for it to arrive– you’re surprised that a building this old has an elevator, but you suppose it’s required at this point. You’re relieved though since your tipsy ass would probably not make it all the way up those stairs. 
Still holding your hand, he walks you into the elevator and presses the number for the 8th floor. His thumb starts rubbing against the back of your hand softly as the elevator rises to his floor. You turn your head to look up at him with a smile, which he returns before leaning down to kiss you, lingering only for a moment before the elevator doors open on his floor. He leads you to his door, reaching his hand into the pocket of the jacket you’re wearing to grab the key and unlock it.
You follow him through the door and he hangs his keys on the key holder mounted on the wall, which looks like a guitar amp. He shuts the door behind you and locks it, then slides off his shoes and picks them up to take them to his bedroom. Of course he keeps his shoes in his room. You slip off your shoes and leave them by the door, then take a look around the living area. 
You look to your left and see his couch, which is a dark gray color with wooden legs. There’s a worn wooden coffee table across from it, filled with a few books and coasters. You walk further into the room to find what seems to be a music corner– there’s a record player on the left wall, a rack on the right with a few guitars, and then a piano on the back wall against the window. 
The record player seems old, adding to the vintage look of the room. There’s a shelf of vinyl on the left of it, completely filled. You can feel his presence behind you as you look around, so you turn to look at him. “This is so cool,” you exclaim, smiling at him and then turning back toward the record player. “Where did you get this? My player is so modern and lame compared to yours.” A grin grows across his face as he walks closer, putting an arm around your waist. 
“It was my dad’s growing up, he gave it to me when I first moved to Detroit,” he says, resting his head on your shoulder from behind you. “Still plays perfectly, too. But I’ve had it refurbished once or twice, of course.” You nod then walk away toward the other corner. 
There are three guitars on stands against the wall, two acoustic and one electric. You’re not very knowledgeable about guitars, but they look like they’re very high quality and expensive. Next to them against the rear wall is a wooden piano, which you move to approach and get a closer look. It seems old as well, but clearly well taken care of. There are a few booklets of music on the top of the piano, along with some separate sheet music. Above the piano is the windowsill, which has a few small plants resting on top of it. 
“Do you play at all?” you ask, turning around to point at the piano. He nods, walking over to stand next to you. You smile wide, and he can tell that you’re plotting something. “Soooo, can you play me something?” He rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“No,” he says sternly. You pout your lip and look up at him.
“Pleeeeease?” you plead, trying to use the ‘puppy eyes’ method to convince him, hoping that he can’t resist you. He laughs but shakes his head, though his façade is fading.
“No, sweetheart. Not tonight,” he insists, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. You pout a little more, looking up at him through your eyelashes, but he isn’t having it. “Right now, I need to take you to bed,” he says. He pulls you closer and you bite your lip, remembering your moment in the club. The piano can wait.
His lips finally find yours again as he backs you toward his dark bedroom and through the threshold. You can feel him smiling against your lips as the back of your legs hit his bed and he lays you down on top of it, leaning over you. His hands move to slide his jacket down your arms along with your Pink Ladies jacket and he throws them to the floor before lifting you up and laying you down higher up on the bed. He leans up to pull his tight shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor, then captures your lips again.
Your hands run along his bare chest, chiseled and hard to the touch.  You can feel him smirk against your lips as your hands reach further down, grazing the waistline of his jeans. You decide to test the waters and tease him, dipping your pointer and middle fingers in and touching his lower stomach. Your fingers brush against his happy trail and he lets out a deep groan at the touch, and you know you have him right where you want him. 
He bites your lip hastily, eliciting a whimper from you before he slides his tongue past your lips, finding yours. As your tongues join together, he reaches down between you and his hands find the button of your jeans, undoing it and then sliding down the zipper. Daniel slowly slides your jeans past your hips and lets them lay below your thighs, deciding to remove your bodysuit first.
He removes his lips from yours to lean back on his heels and reach down to undo the clasps. His eyes are locked on yours, burning through you so harshly that you’re struggling not to hastily remove it all yourself and have him immediately. You can feel the lust radiating off of him as he undoes the first clasp.
“Love when you wear stuff like this… makes this part so much better,” he says, leaning down to place a light kiss on your now-bare thigh. “Lets me savor you a bit more.” His eyes find yours again as he removes the second clasp, then plants another kiss on your thigh, a bit higher this time. You let out a quiet whimper as his teeth pierce your skin slightly as he sucks a deep mark there. 
He finally removes the third clasp and the material there separates, allowing him full access to you. He pulls up the fabric to reveal your black, lace thong, which barely leaves anything to the imagination. He sucks in a deep breath before leaning back again to pull your jeans off the rest of the way and toss them to the floor. 
He steps off of the bed and rids himself of his jeans as well, letting them drop to the floor before climbing back on top of you. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head at the sight of his painfully hard cock straining against the tight material of his briefs. You reach down to grasp him through his boxers and he breathes out a low hum as he pulls your bodysuit up and over your head. With your breasts now on full display for him after being freed from your top, he curses under her breath before lowering himself over top of you. 
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You are just heavenly.”
His lips attach to your neck as his hands explore your body, grasping at your breasts and then giving one of them a harsh squeeze. You throw your head back as you moan at the sensation of him rolling your nipple through his fingers. Your hands move to his chest and attempt to move further before his hand wraps around your wrist and stops you. 
“Tsk-tsk,” he scolds, using his left hand to raise your arms above your head, resting atop the pillow. His left hand stays there, holding your wrists as his lips trail down to your chest as his other leaves your waist and trails up to your breast. 
“Oh, God,” you moan as Daniel wraps his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it as you throw your head back and a quiet whine leaves your mouth. Your arms squirm in his hold as his lips attack your breasts, sucking and leaving a mark or two along the way as he works his way down. As he gets to your lower stomach, his reach is limited and he removes his hand from above your head.
“Stay,” he says sternly, bringing his hand down to hold your waist as the other moves to your thong. You do as he says, leaving your arms above your head as his finger slips under one of the straps, snapping it against your hip. You whimper at the sting of the elastic against your skin and his hand moves to your center, his thumb brushing against your clit teasingly before he removes it. He reaches his thumb to move across the thin fabric against your folds, which is completely soaked through. 
“So wet for me,” he whispers, his face only inches away from where you crave him to be. You can almost feel his warm breath against your throbbing core, desperate and needy for him. As his thumb grazes your clit another time, you feel like you can’t take any more.
“Daniel, please,” you whine, and he looks up to meet your gaze. Your eyes are practically watering, your desire for him becoming almost too much. A smirk forms across his face as he sees how fucked out you look, just for him.
“What is it, baby?” he says teasingly, placing a kiss right above the waistline of your thong. “Tell me what you need.” 
“I want you to touch me- need you to touch me, please,” you say, your voice strained and needy. At your words, his fingers dip into the straps of the thong and slide them over your hips and down your thighs.
“You need me where? Right here?” he says as his finger glides slowly through your folds. You whine at his touch and nod your head vigorously.
“Use your words, sweetheart.” His hand moves to grip your thigh, squeezing tightly and sending your head reeling. 
“Yes, sir, I need you there- I need you to touch me there, anywhere, please,” you whimper, tears forming around your eyes. A smirk returns after your answer, using his grip on your hips to pull you down closer to his face.
“That’s it… good girl,” he says before diving in and running his tongue through your folds, teasing your entrance a few times then wrapping his lips around your clit. His pace is dizzying as his tongue swirls around your swollen bud. One of his hands leaves your thigh and you feel his pointer finger dip into your entrance teasingly before sliding in completely. Your head rolls back as he curls it deep inside you and, by instinct, your hands shoot downward to wrap your fingers through his tight curls. 
Before you can thoroughly feel his attack on your clit, he removes his mouth with a serious, dark look on his face. His hands wrap tightly around your wrists and raise them above your head as he moves to straddle your hips. His eyes have grown dark as he looks down at you. You stifle a moan in your throat at the sight of his visible anger, already getting aroused by whatever he might have in store for you.
“I told you to stay still,” he says, his voice deep and gravely, sending a shiver down your spine. His face hovers above yours as you stare up at him, unsure what to say and nervous to say the wrong thing.
“I was hoping that you’d be good for me tonight… it seems like you had other plans,” he says, licking his lips as he looks down on you. “If you want to act like a brat, then I’m going to treat you like one.” His hands tighten around your wrists and you let out a quiet whimper.
“Yeah, you like that?” he asks, raising his eyebrow at you. You bite your lip and nod as he stands up to remove his boxers. As he slides them over his hips and lets them fall to the floor, your jaw drops. 
You hadn’t thought about the fact that it was your first time seeing him fully naked until right now, but it has you stunned. He is seriously beautiful– his toned chest, chiseled v-line, dark happy trail, strong thighs… Your eyes fall to his long, hard cock, throbbing against his thigh as he moves to hover over you once more. He’s gorgeous, and you can’t possibly even try to hide your need for him, especially given the alcohol still coursing through your system. You feel like you’d do anything he said, anything he wanted, just to keep being able to be with him like this.
“You look so fucking delicious like this,” he mutters, his lips racing to find the sensitive part of your skin along your neck. “You’re dangerous, baby…” You moan quietly as his lips attack your neck and you feel him line himself up with your entrance. 
Your eyes roll back as he finally slides his cock into you, all the way to the hilt. He curses under his breath at the feeling of you tight around him before leaning his lips down to your ear. His now free hand moves to pin your arms above your hand once more as his hips begin slamming into you. 
“You’re gonna stay right fucking there,” he groans, kissing your jaw roughly before his lips find yours. His right hand plants itself on the bed next to your head to hold him steady as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your head is spinning at the feeling of his tongue swirling with yours and his cock drilling against your cervix repeatedly. 
He slides all the way out before slamming back in harshly. “Fuck!” you yelp, your hips almost stinging from the harsh pace. His lips leave yours and he leans back slightly and adjusts the angle, fucking into you deeper as his eyes pierce through yours. “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking tight around me,” he groans, his hand brushing your hair out of your face as he looks down at you. Absolutely fucked out, you feel a sudden urge that you just can’t keep in.
“Choke me,” you plead, licking your lips as you see the surprised but aroused expression appear on his face. “Please,” you add, your eyes locked on his as you yearn for his touch. 
“God, Y/N, you’re fucking filthy,” he mutters as he moves his hand to wrap around your throat. He grips lightly at first, apprehensive from not wanting to hurt you, but soon he gets more comfortable and tightens his grip.
The feeling of his cock slamming against your cervix and his hand wrapped around your throat starts to send you over the edge, closer and closer to your orgasm. Tears start to form at the corners of your eyes as his pace quickens and his hand squeezes around your throat.
“I’m close, I’m gonna-” you moan out, unable to finish your thought as your orgasm crashes over you. It’s intense and strong, making you a blubbering mess as you come down from your high. His forehead falls on top of yours as his hand moves to sit on the back of your neck and his hips start to falter, so you know he’s not far behind you. In a slur of curses, you feel his cock pulse as he releases inside of you, coating your walls. 
Both of his hands cup your cheeks softly as he kisses your lips softly, moaning softly against your lips as he thrusts a few more times inside of you, pushing his cum deep inside you. He removes himself from you and gets up from the bed to walk into his bathroom, grabbing a towel and soaking it in warm water. He walks back over to you, reaching down to help clean you up then throwing the towel back into the bathroom. He bends down and picks his boxers up off the floor, slipping them on before walking over to his dresser.
“Here,” Daniel says, tossing you a large t-shirt. In the dark, you look at the front of it and see that it’s an old band t-shirt– Foo Fighters. You slip it over your head and he walks back over to the bed, lying down next to you. You smile at him shyly, not knowing what to do next and hoping that he’d say the first word. He reaches over and swipes some of your baby hairs behind your ear with a soft smile. 
“Stay,” he says, in almost a whisper. “It’s late, you look tired.” Your smile turns wider as you nod, then slip under the covers and lie on your side to face him. He takes his watch off, setting it on the side table then lying flat on his back and closing his eyes. 
“C’mere,” he says. You slide closer to him and lay your head on his chest, placing your hand there. He wraps an arm around you and kisses the top of your head softly, breathing out a slow sigh then shutting his eyes.
Soon enough, your exhaustion takes over and your eyes slowly drift shut. It’s been a while since you fell asleep with someone like this, and it feels so comforting. You almost hate how easy it was to fall asleep with him, knowing that now you’ll never be able to sleep as well as when he’s there with you. No strings attached. It’s just one night together, it’s not like you’ll make it a habit. You won’t let yourself get too attached to him, you can’t. You don’t care about all of that right now anyway. All that you can think about now is the intoxicating scent of his cologne as you float off to sleep. You can worry about the rest later.
· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·
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teyamsatan · 1 year
Text
Illicit Affairs | Chapter III: Exile
Pairing: Neteyam x Human!Reader (later Avatar!Reader)
Chapter I Chapter II Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X
Synopsis: Your 18th birthday has finally arrived, and with it, a gift that will change your life and your relationships - forever.
Warnings: angst, mentions of death, cursing
Word Count: 3,9k words
A/N: Hi Guys! The 3rd chapter is finaaally here, and 'm happy to say that whilst so far everything's been mostly intro and world building, things will be picking up very quickly. Hope you enjoy this story of two very broken people finding each other <;3
"You were my town Now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leavin' out the side door"
You didn’t dare look back at Neteyam. No, you kept a straight face and your gaze forward as you walked towards the village, engaging in small talk with your 3 friends, who were more than willing to fill in the silence by themselves. They knew you liked to keep to yourself and knew better than to take it personally. 
Your friends also knew, despite not mentioning, that this is a colossal feat, getting you out of the lab, getting you to leave your comfort bubble that you, willingly or unwillingly, built for yourself the past 18 years. Kiri fondly remembers you as a child, wild and free, running around barefoot on the grass and mud as if Pandora and her trees were just your own personal playground. She took a small gander at your feet, now safely covered with a pair of black Converse sneakers, the likes of which she’s seen other humans wear before and tried not too dwell on all the moments that lead you here.
You arrived at the village after a long, pleasant walk. You were fascinated with the Pandora flora, and wondered if you were ever going to get used to it, ever not have your breath hitch in your throat at its beauty. You hoped not. Your heart started to race as the sound of people idly chattering filled your ears. Soon enough, you began to see fire and tents, as the Na’vi were making their way back home at the dusk of another day. You saw some of them removing game from the back of their pa’li, others filleting a huge fish that you recognised as a dinicthoid, and as you walked further in, saw kids running around playing with toy ikrans and laughing amongst themselves, as their mothers lay on the ground watching them in adoration. 
This place filled you with so much warmth. It was clear to you the bond these people had to each other, to the clan, to the nature surrounding them, was something you will never experience for yourself, something your mum talked incessantly about every day, and you suppressed a small cry at the sudden loss of a connection you didn’t even know you longed for until now.
You made your way to the biggest tent you could reasonably see, one that you quickly recognised as the Sully family tent. It was ornate and adorned with intricate designs and two large fire lamps framing each side of the opening. It was a sight to behold, and you realised that it hasn’t changed much since you last visited. You also started to take note of the stares boring into your side from all around you and felt grateful at how close you were to the tent’s entrance. 
Almost on command, Jake Sully peered out of the tent and you watched as a wide smile replaced his previously confused expression. He was a handsome man, as much so now as he was in the still frames of your past. He was dressed in celebratory garments, a fiery red loincloth dropping from his waist and a dazzling beaded neck piece that matched. He had several arm bands circling his arms, and you took note of the way the colour palette matched that of Toruk, and how well that seemed to compliment him. He was a handsome man, you thought to yourself. Damn the Sullys and their genetics.
“Y/N, my God you’ve grown. What the hell happened??” He said, enthusiastically. He circled you curiously and eyed you intently. You tried not too blush at the sudden scrutiny and how it mirrored your own just a few moments ago. “You have time to lift weights in between experiments??” 
You let out a small laugh. “Hi, Jake. It’s good to see you, it’s been a while.”
“It’s been too long. You never visit, but we’re hoping that will change soon.” He said, then eyed the kids behind him, and whatever expression he was met with made him quickly bite on his bottom lip and turn around, as if to stop himself from saying any more. 
A small shriek came from behind him, one that you instantly recognise and you smile widely at the little girl, who, since you last saw her, somehow became as tall as you.
“Tuk-tuk”, you say warmly and watch the animated figure jump up and down and encircle you roughly in a bear-hug. Damn, she’s stronger than you already, you sighed. 
“Y/N! I have missed you so muchhh, you have to ask mum and dad to let me come to the lab more often, I never get to see you anymore!!” She cried in your neck, still holding on to you for dear life. 
“I know, dear girl. I missed you, too. I’ll make sure it will never be this long before we see each other again, how does that sound?” You speak to this child you love like your own sister in Na’vi, her English skills the least proficient. She nodded her head vigorously and with that, let go. 
She took your hand in hers and made her way into the tent, and you felt relief flood your being at finally being out of people’s sights. Two majestic women, tall and mighty as the Valkyries in your mum’s Norse Mythology books stood by the fire. They were chatting softly to each other and stopped as they heard you come in. 
Neytiri and Mo’at looked at you intently and you felt yourself cower under the intensity of their gaze. Neytiri slowly approached you with movements so nimble and fluid you were thinking she could have made a career as a ballerina back on Earth. 
After a while, she kneeled on the ground in front of you and placed her long, toned arm on your much tinier shoulder. 
“My Child, you have grown so much.” She smiled kindly at you, and you felt yourself tear up at her choice of words addressing you.My child…
Before you could stop yourself, you felt your arms cross the space between you and circle her neck. The necklace she was wearing scratched your skin painfully, but you didn’t care. “I see you. I’m sorry.” 
Neytiri’s arms tightened around you and you heard a smile in her voice as she said “Oh, my sweet child, you don’t have to be sorry.” 
You spent the evening catching up. You told them about your work in the lab, about how you all scrambled to find any cure or at least partial treatment to the illnesses that seem to have escalated recently among the tribes’ people. They tell you about training, Lo’ak and Neteyam’s training as well as Kiri’s, who has been spending most of her time learning the ways of the Tsahik, having a natural skill for it. 
You find yourself drooling at the delectable food, and are happy when Mo’at calls everyone to the meal around the fire pit in the centre of the tent. You wait for everyone to get a portion first, and smile fondly when Neyriti passes you a leaf with all the goodies on it. You dig in, realising how famished you actually were. 
“So, Y/N”, Jake starts, “how does it feel being 18? I remember turning 18, don’t remember much else about that day though”, he says, smiling proudly to himself. 
“Feels just the same as being 17, I’m afraid. Was really hoping the Universe might give me some sort of sign or epiphany or, anything, really, but, in reality, I feel the same as I did yesterday, and all the days before that. The food’s much better today, though” You finish with a grin, as you dig into another piece of teylu. 
“Right, well, about that.. us and the kids thought, with you spending so much time on your own, you deserve a special birthday and some special gifts. Now you can see them in the corner of the tent there, but I warn you, you’re not allowed to open them until back at the lab.”
You peered over his shoulder curiously, and were again disappointed to have to wait for a surprise you didn’t want in the first place.
“After dinner, we can all go back to the lab, and you can open them in the hub while we watch, we know how much you love being surprised!” 
“Wow, going out after curfew, I actually do feel kind of special.”
“You should, kid.”
Putting all the wrapped objects on the back of a Pa’li, you watched as Jake mounted his own and motioned for you to get on, in front of him. You did as you were told quietly, and the entire family made its way towards the lab. It was a much quicker journey back, and soon enough you found yourself dismounting in front of the cold heavy walls of the hub. Before you could enter though, Lo’ak passed you a cloth of some sort, and wordlessly asked for you to tie it around your eyes. 
“Oh, come oon!”, you said with a deep groan, but obliged regardless. What was the point of resisting now. You knew one thing though, you were very excited to go back to bed tonight, as the emotional toll this day was taking on you was, although not worse than expected, heavy enough for you to feel its weight for days to come. 
As soon as you entered the lab and removed your mask, you put the covering over your eyes, and felt Lo’ak, you knew, pick you up from the ground and carry you bridal style through the halls of the hub. You couldn’t quite tell where you were going, but you heard snickering behind you, and soon enough, Lo’ak put you down carefully and turned you around to face him.
“Now, Y/N, you’re gonna turn around and we’re going to need you to not pass out. Deal?” 
“What? This is strange, guys.” 
You felt him turn you around and felt gentle hands unwrap the cloth covering your eyes. Your eyes took a minute to adjust to the bright artificial light of the lab, and then pause.
One. Two. Three. 
You couldn’t quite comprehend what was clearly displayed in front of you. You recognised your surroundings quickly enough. The Morgue, the other humans called it. A room where the avatars of the dead humans, now serving no purpose, were kept in their respective incubators. Your eyes were immediately drawn, as if on instinct, to your mum’s avatar. You never came here, you couldn’t. Your gaze then shifted to the incubator to the left of your mum’s, the one that hosted Grace Augustin, Kiri’s mum. On the right of your mum, though, there was usually an empty incubator. There, now floated and twitched a body, blue, tall and strong, connected to an artificial umbilical cord. You peered at it intently, something about it making you shift uncomfortably towards it. Suddenly, you felt yourself stiffen in shock, and heard a loud thud as the mask and the connecting oxygen pack dropped to the ground. The new blue body looked like… you.
Neteyam couldn’t stop staring at his baby brother’s back as he carried you in his arms, and he couldn’t stop the twinge of jealousy that bubbled deep beneath the surface.He got to carry you, he got to touch you, he got to laugh with you every damn time he pleased, and now he gets to introduce you to your new life. 
Neteyam, just like the rest of his family, has known about this for months, maybe longer. Norm, his dad’s closest friend, came to the village one day and announced to the family that him and the rest of the scientists worked tirelessly for years to figure out a way to make you an avatar, and with a lot of help from your deceased’s mother’s work and research, as well as some of her DNA, they cracked the code. The newly made Avatar was a miracle of sorts, nobody having thought it would be possible to create on Pandora, so far from all the resources normally used to make one back on Earth. But they did it, and it will be ready in time for your 18th birthday. Norm wanted to make sure, if it succeeded and you accepted it, they will in turn accept you in the village, just like they accepted Jake so many years ago. He wanted you to be able to have a life, not just a body, and be able to finally be free of the shackles you have created for yourself for years on end. 
Neteyam couldn’t tell how he felt about it, partly due to the fact he’s stopped himself from thinking about it since he’s found out. Whilst his siblings and even parents were buzzing in excitement, he was scared. If you were to now be there, in the village, in his life, every day, he will be forced to deal with you, with the two of you, and the feelings he knew were buried in him for a reason. He stopped at the top of the stairs of the room where he knew the Avatar lay. Nobody cared about him at the moment, and, as a result, was relieved to figure out he doesn’t have to join you in the room and see your future body, currently inanimate and floating in liquid he didn’t know or didn’t want to know the origins of. If this was to happen anyway, he’d rather meet you properly, and see if the same flicker of curiosity and unruly smile could ever reflect in the same way it does on your current face, the one that still haunts his dreams.
You couldn’t formulate words… or thoughts, for that matter. You stared at the Avatar for what it feels like hours, and finally, Norm cleared his throat and spoke.
“I know this is a lot to take in. But we wanted your 18th to be special, Ace. We have been working in secret for years to get this done, because you deserve it. You deserve the world, and you can’t have it in this lab. This world also deserves you. So now you can go and show it what you’ve got.” 
“We’re so happy for you to join us, my child.” You heard Neyriri join in. 
“Do you want to see the gifts we made for you?” Tuk jumped in, enthusiastically.
With a last look at your Avatar, you turned around and faced the people you knew would be looking at you expectantly. You didn’t know what the feelings you were feeling were, but they were all fighting to take over, and you felt yourself becoming dizzy. Steading yourself, you recognised that words will have to appear on your tongue sooner or later, and you managed to get out a whisper “Sure, Tuk-tuk, let’s go!”
Everyone around you exchanged weird looks; they really thought you would be a lot happier about this than you were. You tried your best to put on a happy smile and react in the way you knew people would be wanting you to; after all, this was indeed an incredibly nice, thoughtful and attentive gift, not to mention damn fucking impressive, and whatever trauma the thought of having to pilot this Avatar brought in you, it was something you were going to have to deal with by yourself, later. 
“Guys, I know I have not reacted in a way appropriate for the sheer insane size and meaning of this gift, but I promise that despite my very slow processing times, I am incredibly grateful and happy for this. I cannot believe something like this is even possible, and I can believe even less that it was done for me! But while I struggle to comprehend the magnitude of what’s going to happen to me, let’s open some presents!!” 
You made your way slowly towards the recreation hub where all the packages were placed on one of the long tables. You chuckled awkwardly and took one of them in your hands. The wrapping, you realised, was the same material like the one used to make the Na’vi loincloths. 
The one you held in your hands currently was blue. You unwrapped it, careful as to not damage it at all, and was shocked to see a dazzling necklace, one of the most beautiful ones you have even seen. It was a leather chocker, which adorned green and red stones, and it reminded you a lot of the bracelet you were currently wearing. You turned around and looked at Kiri, whose masterful hands you knew crafted it. She was sitting on one of the benches and you couldn’t help become emotional looking at your friend, your amazing friend, who you have known all of your life, and who always collected trinkets from the woods, trinkets that now will decorate your new body. 
The next package was heavier, and upon opening it, you were shocked to discover a rider’s mask, like the one the Na’vi wear when flying an Ikran; it was brown and braided and had bones adorning it. The lenses were translucent and shone in iridescent hues as you looked at it from all angles. You were in awe at the inadvertent admission that someone thought you capable of one day passing the Iknimaya, and you felt quite confident in saying Lo’ak was the master behind this gift. 
“I thought, you will definitely need it one day, and I wanted to get a jump start.” He says, as if reading your mind. “You may not know it now, but I think you were born for this, Angel.” 
You had no words to say to that, but were touched at how Lo’ak always seemed to believe in you more than you believed in yourself. You took a silent oath to try to live up to the version of you Lo’ak kept with him in his heart. 
The second to last package was also quite small and seemed to rattle as you picked it up. As you unwrapped it, you didn’t quite make sense of the bundle of feathers and chains, but eventually Neytiri kindly stepped in and untangled it, and you realised it was a top, a beautiful, sheer top, and you found it hard to believe this will actually cover anything. You were excited to put it on though, and felt a tingle of anticipation for tomorrow that was not there before… these were yours, for your body, for your future, a future where riding your own Ikran might be more than just a dream of an out-of-reach fantasy.
“Thank you so much.” You wanted to say more, you wanted to tell them the turmoil in your heart and how scared you truly were, and how you wish they would understand and reach over and heal the broken mess that was your mind so you could finally just go, get out of this place and make your life something actually worth living, but you couldn’t make any other words come out. So you just said thank you.
As the family and the scientists continued chatting, you managed to slip by unnoticed out of the recreation hub and made your way down the hall, looking for the missing Sully you knew would be somewhere in here, by himself. You were so mad at him, so much resentment had built up in you from the year you’ve spent apart, from the less than ideal reunion, and from his continuous attempts to avoid you at all costs. It was your birthday, for god’s sake. He could at least pretend to be happy to be here, even if only for the sake of the memories you shared. 
You found him in your room, looking over the books in your makeshift library, mindlessly playing with something in his large hands. His ears twitched as you approached, an obvious sign he heard you, but made no effort to acknowledge your presence. You half smiled at the view, and tried not to remember all the other times he has been in your room, just like he was now. You sat on your bed and waited patiently for him to speak, like you once used to do. It might take some time, but he always spoke.
“I don’t think you should do it.” He says, without looking at you. 
“You think I shouldn’t do what?”
“This, the Avatar thing. I think it’s a bad idea.”
You sat there, in silence for a while while his words twirled in your mind like his green bracelet was twirling in his hands. You didn’t realise your mouth was wide open until you felt it dry up and you swallowed involuntarily in response.  
“Excuse me?”
He turned around to face you and you saw a hard look mark his features, the old Neteyam, your old Neteyam merely a long-forgotten dream. 
“You’re not going to make it, Y/N. You haven’t spent more than a week outside in the past 3 years. You may think you got this, cause you work out in a dark stuffy room with some weights and jump a rope, but it’s not going to mean jack shit when you’re out there, in a wilderness so harsh it claims brave Na’vi men and women’s lives every day. You may think you know everything because you sit here hunched over books written by humans who couldn’t see even if it hit them in the face with a stick, but you know nothing about the real world. Nothing about what’s waiting for you starting tomorrow, if you do this. Tell Norm no.” 
The rage you felt blossomed like deadly nightshade and you knew whatever it was you once felt for Neteyam was dead and buried six-feet-under in that moment. You let out a bitter chuckle and rose up from the bed, placing your body in front of him.
“You know, when I saw you standing here, in my room, after all this time, I felt some sort of sick hope. I hoped you had finally come to your senses and decided you would apologise for the way you’ve treated me. For the way you left. I’m not stupid, believe it or not. I never expected whatever we had to last. After all,  it was only a matter of time before the mighty future Olo’eyktan realised his attentions are better focused on more worthwhile things, like training, or, I don’t know, finding the best future Tsahik. I always expected you to outgrow me. I just had an ounce of hope you would have enough decency to do it while looking me in the eye. I felt like I earned that, after all the blood, sweat and tears I gave you.” 
“You know, I fucking hate surprises. I just never thought you’d be one of the reasons why.”
The silence felt heavy and all you could hear was your panting breath, as you were trying to reign in your tempestuous emotions and the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. 
“Get the fuck out of my room, Neteyam.” 
You found yourself forcefully taking the bracelet from his much larger hand and removing yourself from his path, motioning towards the open door. He left without saying a word and you shut the door behind you with a loud thud.
So far 18 was not your favourite age. 
682 notes · View notes
tangledinlove · 1 month
Text
the killerverse tracklist
— as compiled by the readers, sorted by artist
spotify
beach house
— superstar and majorette
billie eilish
— i love you, hostage, when the party’s over
boygenius
— emily i’m sorry, true blue, we’re in love, letter to an old poet, voyager
clairo
— bags, 4ever, glue song (with beabadoobee)
the crane wives
— the moon will sing and little soldiers
daisy jones & the six
— the river, look at us now (honeycomb), aurora
ethel cain
— a house in nebraska
finneas
— partners in crime and til forever falls apart (with ashe)
fleetwood mac
— silver springs and songbird
frank ocean
— white ferrari and godspeed
gracie abrams
— this is what the dugs are for, two people, i know it won’t work, i miss you, i’m sorry, feels like, camden, in between
hadestown + heathers
— we raise our cups, wait for me (reprise), all i’ve ever known, flowers, dead girl walking (reprise), epic iii
harry styles
— matilda and sign of the times
hozier
— jackie and wilson, work song, like real people do, nfwmb, unknown / nth, francesca, i, carrion (icarian), damage gets done, to someone from a warm climate, talk, be
keane
— somewhere only we know
lana del rey
— chemtrails over the country club, paris, texas, how to disappear, old money, young and beautiful, jealous girl
laufey
— promise and questions for the universe
lizzy mcalpine
— doomsday and ceilings
lord huron
— mine forever, love like ghosts, the night we met
mitski
— a pearl, francis forever, jobless monday, my love mine all mine, the frost, i’m your man, once more to see you, fireworks, i bet on losing dogs, strawberry blond, i want you
noah kahan
— everywhere, everything, strawberry wine, call your mom
olivia rodrigo
— can’t catch me now, logical, favorite crime
phoebe bridgers
— the gold, waiting room, graceland too, killer, georgia, scott street, day after tomorrow
suki waterhouse
— good looking
taylor swift
— out of the woods, wildest dreams, style, you are in love, this love, suburban legends, say don’t go, all of the girls you loved before, willow, gold rush, ivy, marjorie, right where you left me, it’s time to go, cardigan, seven, illicit affairs, hoax, my tears ricochet, false god, daylight, labyrinth, the very first night, end game, delicate, dress, mine, haunted, you’re losing me, i don’t wanna live forever, the alcott, paper rings
misc artists
a
— when we were young by adele and pretend by alex g
b
— blame brett by the beaches and past lives by børns
c
— father and son by cat stevens, strangely divine by chloe ament, astronomy by conan gray, sunday by the cranberries,
d
— youth by daughter, ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by del water gap, welcome and goodbye by dream, ivory
e
— peaceful easy feeling by eagles, final girl by eva rose, romantic lover by eyedress
f
— hurts like hell by fleurie, wish you were here by florence + the machine, somethin’ stupid by frank sinatra
g
— achilles come down by gang of youths, iris by the goo goo dolls, good stuff by griff, sweet child o mine by guns n roses, cupid’s chokehold by gym class heroes
i
— love wins all by iu
j
— kokomo, in by japanese breakfast, i saw you in a dream by the japanese house, last goodbye by jeff buckley, you were good to me by jeremy zucker, the roads by jonah kagen, seventeen by julianna joy
k
— the one that got away by katy perry, all i want by kodaline
l
— judas by lady gaga, the other by lauv, grown up by leith ross, only you by little mix, please stay by lucy dacus
m
— history of man by maisie peters, tightrope by michelle williams, arms tonite by mother mother
n
— afraid by the neighbourhood and harvest moon by neil young
p
— 26 and 24 by paige fish, decode by paramore, maniac by phoebe green, a match into water by pierce the veil
r
— the ballad of lucy gray baird by rachel zegler, dandelions by ruth b
s
— end of the world by searows, can’t remember to forget you by shakira, i won’t say (im in love) by susan egan
u
— burn by usher
w
— ur so pretty by wasia project, just friends by why don’t we
z
— oklahoma city by zach bryan
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dameronscopilot · 1 year
Text
illicit affair
Dad’s Best Friend!Santiago “Pope” Garcia x f!reader
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Summary: Following your intimate encounter with your dad’s best friend, Santiago, during your family’s Thanksgiving gathering, the two of you pick back up where you left off when you visit home again for Christmas—though your covert rendezvous doesn’t quite go as planned. 
Word Count: 3.3k
Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT
Content: NSFW, smut, minimal plot mainly filth, DBF!Santiago, implied age gap (reader is of age), masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), anal fingering, rimming, reference to anal sex, creampie, squirting, cum eating, spit kink, praise kink, choking kink, rough sex, dirty talk
A/N: This is a sequel to cut the brakes. If you want context on "what happened at Thanksgiving," read that first! This and all of my other spirals over DBF!Santi are forever dedicated to my beloved @welcometostayingawake.
While you’d anticipated sneaking away to see Santiago during your trip home to spend the holidays with your family…this turn of events certainly wasn’t in your itinerary. 
Initially, after the clamor of festivities at your dad’s house on Christmas, you’d had every intention of feigning plans with hometown friends for the days that followed—plans that would actually find you nestled up at Santi’s house, during which time he’d hopefully make good on all of the wanton promises he’d made over the phone following your Thanksgiving adventures. Your vibrator was nearly on its last leg after vigorous daily use at this point, the silicone finding a familiar home lodged deep inside of your wet cunt every evening as your phone screen lit up with videos of Santiago fisting his thick cock. 
Santi had found a reasonable excuse to politely decline your dad’s invite to Christmas dinner, if only because he could in no way promise that he’d be able to resist fucking you right there in your childhood bedroom while your family unknowingly mingled in the living room. The mere thought sent excitement racing down your spine, but you knew you had to play it safe if you wanted this to continue. He was your dad’s best goddamn friend, after all. God forbid your grandmother accidentally mistake your room for the bathroom and find the man balls deep inside of you. 
So yeah, you’d save your long-awaited fuck fest for the privacy of Santiago’s house. Where you could scream as loudly as you wanted to whilst he pounded you into the mattress.
…at least that’s what you thought. 
Until your dad invited you along for a Boxing Day visit to Santiago’s, in lieu of his absence from the prior evening’s celebrations. A visit which unfortunately coincided with a snowy morning that rapidly evolved into an outright blizzard by the afternoon, the hazardous road conditions therefore preventing you from leaving. 
Snowed in with your father and Santiago?
What could possibly go wrong?
You ran a hand over the sleek black comforter neatly tucked across Santiago’s large mattress, your mind spinning at the thought that you were about to sleep in his bed for the very first time with your father in the room just across the hall. And Santi wasn’t even there with you.
When it became clear that you wouldn’t be getting out the door anytime soon due the amount of snow that continued to accumulate in the streets with not a single plow in sight, Santiago had offered up his bedroom and his guest room to the two of you. Your father was quick to say he’d take the couch, but Santi insisted otherwise. And when he proceeded to head upstairs to clear out the abundant clutter in the spare bedroom, which he rarely used, your dad casually waved him off as he told him not to bother. He, personally, didn’t mind the mess, and you could just take Santi’s bedroom to make things easier.  You hadn’t dared even steal a glance over in his direction when your father said that, face burning with the downright irony of the situation at hand.
Sighing, you allowed yourself to collapse onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows and inhaling the warm scent of Santiago’s cologne. You rolled onto your side, your body pressing into the edges of a hard lump nestled beneath the covers. Curious, you pulled the blanket down, fingers closing around a rectangular box tied shut with a large, pink bow. You tugged at the silky material and opened the lid to find a lacy lingerie set with an index card placed on top of it.
Merry Christmas, cariño.
Breath hitching in your throat, you brushed your fingers over the material, a thrill running down your spine. Of fucking course he would do this. 
A few moments later, your clothes were left discarded on the floor as you slipped on Santiago’s gift, turning sideways to admire the way the lingerie looked on your body. Glancing back over at the soft, rumpled sheets on the bed, an idea occurred to you, prompting you to climb back onto the mattress.
Santiago may not have the opportunity to fuck you in this bed tonight, but you’d certainly be getting off one way or another. You ran a hand down your throat and over your breasts, teasing at your peaked nipples, which were nearly on full display through the sheer bra. Sliding your fingers inside of the material, you arched your back into your own touch, imagining that the sting of pleasure that pinching your nipples elicited was from Santiago’s teeth as he latched his mouth onto your tits. 
Your thighs fell open as you trailed your hand along your stomach, fingers flirting with the waistband of the panties that just barely covered your mound and your ass. But before allowing yourself unfettered access to your aching cunt, you reached toward the nightstand for your phone, opening up the camera.
You snapped several photos, including a shot of your breasts while you sucked on your fingers, your ass on full display with nothing but a thin strap of material running between your cheeks, and the sticky arousal that had already leaked through your panties, coating the inside of your thighs. Santiago had received plenty of suggestive photos of you recently, but the chance to shamelessly tease him while you were sprawled out across his mattress, knowing he couldn’t come upstairs and fuck you, was something you couldn’t pass up.
Swiping over to the video feature, you propped the phone up on a pillow for a full-frontal view of your leaking cunt as you hooked a finger in the fabric, pulling the panties aside and inserting your middle finger into your fluttering hole. You moaned as you realized just how wet you were already, the digit sliding through your tight walls with no resistance, and you quickly slid another finger in.
Downstairs, Santi shifted from where he was sprawled out on the couch, lifting up his phone and squinting in the darkness of the living room to glance at the bright screen. His mouth went dry as he swiped a finger to reveal the gallery of images you’d sent to him, showing off that you’d indeed found the gift he’d stashed under the covers for you.
He scrolled through the pictures, cock stiffening heavily in his sweatpants at the way the lingerie left little to the imagination, showing off the dips and curves of your nearly naked body. Groaning, his hand found its way into his boxers when he opened the video of you finger fucking yourself, and he gripped his shaft tightly at the slick, squelching noises that accompanied your needy moans. 
“Santi”
At the sound of you whimpering his name, he dropped the phone face down in his lap, biting down hard on his knuckles as he fisted his length, jerking his hips upward, mind wandering with the temptation of climbing the stairs two at a time and stuffing his cock inside of you without preamble.
He’d spent far too many nights jerking off to nothing but your text messages in the time since he’d seen you last—he’d even gone so far as to excuse himself from the table when he made the mistake of opening a particularly filthy photo of a dildo stuffed into your ass while he was out for lunch with your father last week, rushing to the bathroom to sloppily fuck his fist (while also sending you a photo of the way he’d accidentally splattered his cum all over the stall afterward). 
Santi was nearing the point of desperation now—he needed to feel the way your tight cunt choked down his fat cock as he slid inside of you. He needed to hear your broken sobs in his ear as he kept fucking you through your first orgasm and right into the next without stopping. He needed see the cock drunk expression on your face as he pumped you full of cum over and over. 
He was halfway through entertaining of the thought of how quickly he’d be able to escape the wrath of your father's fists if were to walk into the bedroom to find Santi fucking his daughter when he froze upon hearing a creaking sound up on the stairs. Hastily pulling his hand out of his pants, he sat up, only to be greeted by the side of you slinking your way across the room and over to the couch.
“Is that my shirt?”
You offered him a wry grin, doing a twirl for effect, the unbuttoned dress shirt fanning out to reveal the lingerie set you wore beneath. 
“Jesus Christ, baby,” he muttered, running a hand over his face, cock throbbing in his boxers. “Come here.”
He beckoned you toward him, and you swiftly climbed into his lap, immediately pressing down against the erection straining at the front of his pants. He slipped his hands inside of the shirt you’d pilfered from his closet, running them up your sides before scooping your breasts into his palms. You arched into his touch, rocking your hips against him. 
Leaning in, he ran his teeth over the shell of your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “Did you touch yourself in my bed?”
His breath was hot as it ghosted along the side of your neck, and you shivered as you admitted, “I...may have made a bit of a mess."
Santi snaked a hand between your bodies, cupping your mound to feel the wet, sticky remains of your orgasm. He pushed your panties aside just enough to dip a finger into your sensitive entrance, scooping up a glob of cum and licking it off. 
“Good girl,” he murmured, cupping the side of your face and leaning in to kiss you.
Your chest heaved as his lips finally slotted against yours, quickly engulfing your mouth as he loosely wrapped a hand around your throat.
Breaking the kiss momentarily, you asked, “Should we go upstairs?”
Santi chuckled against your lips, brushing a thumb along your bottom lip. “No, because I think you want me to fuck you right here on this couch. That’s why you came down here, isn’t it?”
Heat flared in your gut as his gaze burned into yours, knowing all too well that after your risky romp in your dad’s backyard, part of you wanted to chase that thrill again. And you knew that if you told him that’s what you wanted, he’d do it. 
So you nodded.
He reached up, sliding the shirt off of your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground as he leaned in, mouthing the space between your breasts.
“Get up, and bend yourself over the arm of the couch.”
His tone brokered no room for argument, so you clambered out of his lap, padding across the carpet and grabbing a throw pillow before folding your body over the side of the couch. 
But before he could get up to follow, you reached out and placed a hand on his wrist from where he was still seated. “Wait.”
You let your hand trail over his thighs, pressing the heel of your palm into his erection, and he quickly understood what exactly you were getting at. Santi shifted so that he was kneeling on the cushion in front of you, and he tugged his t-shirt up and out of the way as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock as it sprang free. He sucked in a breath as you darted out your tongue to lap up the precum dribbling down the tip. 
Santi’s hand came to rest at the back of your head as your lips parted around his cock, slowly taking him into the wet heat of your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his length, swallowing him as deeply as you could and glancing up at him to make eye contact as you reached out to play with his balls. 
Santi groaned, fingertips pressing into your scalp. “Can’t believe you can take my whole cock in that pretty little mouth. If I didn’t want your pussy so bad right now, I’d fuck your throat till you were choking on my cum.”
Clenching your thighs together as a fresh wave of arousal trickled through your body, you continued to bob on his shaft, saliva running down your chin as your lips engulfed him. After a few moments, Santi pulled himself out of your mouth before you drove him over the edge, sliding off of the couch and coming to stand behind you.
He began to firmly massage the globes of your ass with both hands before pulling aside the material of the thong nestled between your cheeks and spreading them wide. You dug your fingers into the couch cushion below you at the sound of Santiago spitting, letting out a huff of air as the glob landed right on your exposed tight ring of muscle.
“I was out to eat with your dad when you sent me that photo of you fucking yourself in the ass with a dildo, sweetheart,” he casually stated as he ran a finger over your puckered rim.
“I know,” you gasped out.
He tutted. “Maybe I should take you to the same restaurant this week. I’ll show you the bathroom stall where I had to go jerk off, and I'll stuff my dick in your tight little hole right there. You can spend the rest of lunch feeling my cum dripping out of your ass.”
You whimpered as he slowly began to press his finger past the rim. “Please.”
“I’ll fuck your needy cunt in my truck after, too. And then you can go back to your dad’s house and act like both of your fucked out holes aren’t full of his best friend’s cum,” he gritted out, voice wavering slightly as he slipped his entire finger into your ass. 
Despite his initial reservations about your arrangement, Santiago had clearly reached the point of no return, prepared to embrace just how fucked up this entire situation was.
A sound of surprise left you at the feeling of him reaching down with his other hand to run his fingers through your folds before thrusting two of them into your entrance. You tugged the throw blanket down from where it was laying on the back of the couch, biting down hard on the edge of the material as Santi squeezed another digit into your ass, fingering both of your wet holes with fervor. 
“You like having both of your holes filled, don’t you?” he questioned, voice rough.
“Feels so fucking good, Santi,” you nearly sobbed.
He worked a third finger into your cunt and your ass, and it took all of your willpower not to shout.
“Come for me again before I fuck you, cariño.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. As he crooked a finger tightly inside of your pussy, the steady thrum of pleasure coiling deep in your gut unfurled rapidly, the ache between your thighs blooming white-hot as your climax gushed out of you—literally.
“Oh fuck,” Santi moaned appreciatively as clear liquid squirted out of your cunt, dripping down his arm. 
Cock throbbing painfully with need at the sight, he hastily tugged you back onto the couch, placing you so that you were kneeling on the cushions and facing the back of it. He unclasped your bra, greedily palming at your naked breasts before reaching down and tearing your panties in two.
“I liked those!” you protested, whispering loudly.
He leaned in, biting the side of your neck. “I’ll buy you more, if you’re good.”
You wiggled your ass against his cock, feeling it brush against your cheeks. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
Santi smirked, gently grabbing your chin and turning your head to the side to face him while wrapping his other hand around your neck. “That’s my girl. Now open for me.”
Clearly, your late night pleas via text message for Santi to “make you his little slut and spit in your mouth” weren’t forgotten, because the moment you parted your lips for him, he tightened his grip around your throat as he spat a glob of saliva into the back of your throat. 
After you swallowed, he brought his lips to meet yours, kissing you hard as he reached down to line his cock up with your dripping entrance. You let your thighs spread further apart as he began to sink into your cunt, both of you groaning softly in unison at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of your slick walls. 
He slowly pulled out of you, taking his time to let you adjust to his girth, but he paused as you pleaded, “Be rough with me, Santi.”
Running a thumb along the curve of your jaw, he warned, “You have to be quiet though.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to shut me up,” you retorted, roughly pushing back against him and rapidly sheathing his length in the warmth of your cunt once more. 
He hummed thoughtfully, trailing two fingers along your cheek before swiping them across your lips. You darted your tongue out, licking the digits before taking them into your mouth. 
“That’s it,” he crooned, pushing his fingers further in, urging you to suck on them as he began to increase the pace of his thrusts, hips snapping against your own.
A wave of heat spread under your skin as you desperately sucked on Santiago’s fingers, saliva running down your chin while he pounded into you, massaging your inner walls with his thick shaft at a brutal pace. Your nerves were on fire, and it was all you could do to keep from moaning as he jackhammered into you, the couch groaning in protest with each vigorous thrust. 
He reached down with his free hand, and you gagged on the fingers lodged in your mouth as he slid two fingers back into your ass while he continued to roughly fuck you against the cushions. At that, you began to lose your composure, legs trembling and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you tried not to cry out. Feeling the telltale tightening of your muscles, Santi took his fingers back from where your lips were wrapped around them, instead clapping his hand firmly over your mouth to muffle the wail of pleasure bubbling up in your throat as your orgasm punched through you.
Hips stuttering, Santi plunged into you several more times before his own climax overtook him, and he left his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you, filling you to the brim with every last drop of cum that your cunt greedily milked from his shaft.
Once he was spent, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade as you both tried to catch your breath. When you eventually attempted to move, he shook his head, holding you in place as he pulled away from you, and you could feel as his cum began to leak from your hole, dripping down your thighs. Confused, you glanced back, only to catch a glimpse of the wink he tossed your way before leaning in, lapping broad strokes through your sensitive folds. You shivered at the overstimulation, the feeling of his tongue probing your entrance both too much and not enough all at once. 
Santi froze as a creaking sound echoed from the hallway upstairs, and he cursed, quickly climbing up onto the couch and pulling you down, trapping you between his body and the cushions as he covered you both with a blanket. Your breath caught in your throat at the sound of your father descending the stairs, and you dared not breathe as Santi gripped your hips tightly while footsteps could be heard in the kitchen. Obscured by the darkness of the living room and the thick blanket you were burrowed beneath, you thought you’d probably be fine...as long as you didn’t move until your dad went back to bed.
—but Santiago clearly couldn’t resist a challenge. 
He trailed a hand down your chest, cupping your mound, and you bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to hold back the whimper he almost drew out of you as he sunk two fingers back into your cunt.
“I want you to come for me one more time," he murmured.
Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!
» SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST » OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST
679 notes · View notes
onewmin · 10 months
Text
better man | knj (18+)
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part 2 of “shreds”.
Pairing: idol!Kim Namjoon x idol!female!reader
Summary: Two years have passed after your breakup with Namjoon.
Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI), oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up buddies), a bit of dirty talk, praises, cheating, mentions of pregnancy and abortion, profanity, typos, unhealthy relationship, possessive bf Namjoon
Author’s note: hope you enjoy the part 2! I haven’t planned on writing it, but here we are :) tell me what you think!!
Tags: @namjooningera @namtaeh
Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.
P.S. The pictures are taken from Pinterest, so if you know their owners, please let me know!
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Wedding planning was not a piece of cake.
Sure, you’ve had multiple assistants and your friends helping you out — however, it was still a really hard thing to do. To fit everything into your schedule was nearly impossible, but you tried, moving rehearsals to early mornings, studio sessions to late nights and taking the whole afternoon for the wedding stuff. Just as your wedding was around the corner — three months before it — you landed in Seoul after the tour. And since then, it has been nothing but a crazy roller coaster.
Your company has decided you have to be prepared for your next comeback in advance; as your boss said, you would be too relaxed to get back to your regular rhythm after the honeymoon. Not that you disagreed.
Your fiancé wasn’t that happy about your new rushy routine: he couldn’t but get infuriated every time he had to pick you up in a state of literal exhaustion; you had to beg him not to quarrel with your bosses, reassuring him that’s what you wanted yourself too. Whenever you spoke of it, he agreed.
You couldn’t ever admit even to yourself you were the type of girl to enjoy wedding planning. You’d look arrogantly when your girlfriends gushed over wedding dresses and party planning, trying to seem untouchable, “not-like-other-girls” type of girlie. But you were. The second Namjoon hinted at the wedding, in your head you were already at the altar, bouquet of light pink roses in your hands, the veil covering your face.
But Kim Namjoon never came to the altar. He was a runaway groom, who was standing at the church doors, but never took a step forward. Throughout eight years of being with him, your dress’ white color turned into yellow, the roses withered and the veil got covered in a thick layer of dust. You turned into a Corpse Bride while being alive and breathing, with your own evil boyfriend who, in reality, never wanted to marry you.
The sheer amount of freedom you felt the second you let him go was mind blowing. It was overwhelming, how you could dress up in those tight, revealing outfits without his judgement or lingering jealousy. You were his girl, but only behind closed doors. However, even being kept as a secret, you had to be cautious with what you wore, who you talked with. For god’s sake, if someone flirted with you, and you laughed it off? Namjoon would be clenching his jaw in the back of the room, all pent up frustration later turned into aggressive make out session. He’d grab handfuls of your ass, squeeze your hips, bite your lips till they were a light shade of purple. “You’re mine”, he’d growl into your skin, leaving love marks all over your neck, “and mine only”.
You loved being his, even as an illicit affair. When the two of you met, never in a million years you’d think this relationship could last that long. You were nineteen, freshly debuted as a soloist, slowly building up your career and fanbase. He was twenty, a well-known star already, but not worldwide popular. Having been a promising songwriter, you were assigned to work with his group by your company. It would bring a great benefit to all of us, they said. Oh yeah, it did.
You two seemed to hit it off in an instant; you’d stay there, long hours spent in the studio, writing and sharing your lyrics with one another. He’d write about his ex-girlfriend, you’d write about your previous relationship with the high-school ex. No wonder, several months later you ended up staring at him in awe, as he held out a bouquet of pink roses, his face matching the shade of the flowers.
“Go on date with me”, he uttered, voice a bit shaky. “And go out with me”.
You agreed to both simultaneously, taking the bouquet from his hands, the smell of your favourite flowers, associating with him, forever etched on your memory.
Your date turned out to be the quietest you’d been on. You had a picnic in the park, with people surrounding you — sure, not every freaking person knew him back then. You shared fruits and berries, as he read his favorite poems to you, while you were sitting beside him. And as the end of the day approached, apricot colored sunset drawing everyone’s attention to it, Namjoon took your hand in his. You remember looking at him as he watched the sunset, your interwoven hands on his lap, a big delighted smile on his face. You returned it, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and put your head on his shoulder, immediately melting to his warmth. That was the moment you fell in love with him. And that was the moment, one of many, you kept reminding yourself of whenever any doubts about him would creep up in your brain.
The boy you fell in love with turned into a man. The man had this intimidating aura to him, so mysterious yet so fluffy at the same time. He was still that boy who held your hand under the table and blushed every time you pecked him on the cheek. But the man Namjoon grew up to be was more demanding, his hand creeping up your thigh under the table now, fingers playing with the hem of your panties. You hated when he did that, but he never listened to your complaints.
The man also turned all the promises the boy gave you into empty ones. He gave you the ring three years in the relationship — a simple one that you saw in one cheap jewelry shop, with light purple flowers engraved on it — and promised he’d give you a real one when the time comes. You believed the boy, but the man was the person you couldn’t put your trust in. You didn’t need the ring, nor the promises; the only thing you wanted was openness. You were tired of hiding, tired of women flirting with him and him flirting back — well, it’s not like the two of you were official — tired of lying to everyone. The only thing you craved was him claiming your relationship, being proud of it.
As the two years passed, you realized there was never even a hint of pride in him. Namjoon was comfortable in the relationship with you, as you were ready to put everything at stake just for him, but he, himself? His career was a superiority to everything, always. How foolish of you was to even think that he would put you in the top list of his priorities?
So you broke it off, the relationship, the engagement, the promise you’d give to each other years ago. “To grow up, and to grow old together”, sounded like a wedding vow — there was yet another lie you fed yourself with every time he’d reject going public with you. Or, “Happiness is in privacy”, you mom would say. Wrong. Happiness is in not being scared to show your partner off. Happiness is in being proud of your relationship. That’s what you understood when your new boyfriend appeared at the horizon, putting your loneliness to an end.
It’s been almost two years and a half after you breakup with Namjoon now. He enlisted in the military not long after, texting you to ask, “Will you wait for me?”. You answered negatively, blocking his number and all of his accounts, too. The audacity this man has, you thought while crying your eyes out, asking if I’d wait for him? Seriously?
You read the news about him obsessively, though. The first few months after the breakup you unblocked him several times, waiting, hoping he’d text you. If he had done that, you’d have been crawling on your knees back to him, back to the mess your relationship turned into. But he never did.
Drowning in the mere presence of him, created by the news articles, fanfiction you’d read, edits you’d watched — anything to build up an image of him being beside you. However, the more you drowned, the more disgusted you’d become. Seeing his face on the screen didn’t bring you the necessary joy anymore — you were exhausted of his dimples, his voice, the mere image of him. Several months passed before you caught yourself not thinking of him anymore. It’d hurt a little bit if someone spoke of him or if you saw his face — but only because your heart was aching for you. You didn’t think about Namjoon anymore, and that’s when you were ready to move on.
You met Park Dae-Hyun at a party, the one your company made you come to. As a brand ambassador, you had to attend; the next morning you’d read how every tabloid tossed your photos around, saying how skinny you looked, speculating that it was the breakup affecting you that way. Everybody knew you were back on the single market, and everybody wanted to find out who your ex was. As if.
Dae-Hyun is 10 years older than you, with an established business and a divorce left behind. He has no kids, no scandals, no skeletons hidden in his closet. He’s stable, restricted, serious. He’s a grown man who’s been on the same page with you since day one.
You went out as a couple to another brand event two months in your relationship. Pictures were taken, tabloids were eating the shit up, savoring every little detail of your body language around each other. And when his hands were roaming around your waist in the back of the car, heavy kisses trailed alongside your neck, you, as moved on and conscientious you were, imagined Namjoon’s hands on your waist and his lips on your skin.
When Dae-Hyun proposed, it was straight out of your teenage dreams — on top of the highest building in Seoul, a table in the center of the rooftop with champagne and red roses. You wished they were pink though, but you never told Dae-Hyun that light pink ones were your favourite. He proposed a year into relationship, willing to give you the life you’ve always wanted. You knew he was telling the truth.
Park Dae-Hyun was a better man: he always found the time for you, no matter how much work he had; always brought you flowers whenever you felt down, returned from tour or had a successful comeback. When you fist started dating, you were in the middle of searching for a new apartment, and he helped, using all of his ties and connections in the estate business to land the best option for you. You didn’t ask for it, but he did it anyways. With Dae-Hyun, you’ve learnt how to ask for help, gradually and slowly.
So you agreed to be his wife, to be the better woman with the better man. You put Kim Namjoon to the darkest and dustiest shelf in the story of your life, letting the memory of him rot in the back of your head. You were happier now; you didn’t feel lonely whenever Dae-Hyun would leave. Now, you felt like a whole person, even when your partner wasn’t around. This is the epitome of a healthy relationship, isn’t it?
Yeah, it is. And all of it would’ve been just perfect if only Kim Namjoon didn’t come back from his military service two months ago.
Everyone was talking about it, every news source filled in with his photos and short comments about the comeback he’s already planning. And of course, of-fucking-course, he had to attend the same party as you. As if he’d known you’d be there.
Simple greetings and bows exchanged by the two of you, and you walked away, planning to leave as soon as possible. As you managed to escape seeing him again, Namjoon didn’t miss the chance to show up at your door in the middle of the night.
“Get out”
“I’m only here to talk”.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve said everything to you already”.
“But I haven’t!” He retorted. “You didn’t even let me speak!”
“I know everything”, you took several steps towards him, “everything you’re going to say. It’s always these false promises and empty words that you speak of”.
You stood in front of him, eyes piercing through his. Namjoon let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“What happened to us, baby?”
You winced at the pet name, goosebumps appearing all over your body the moment he mumbled it. You have forgotten how much the sound of his voice only made blood rush to the sensitive bundle of nerves down your body.
“You”. The answer was sharp. “You happened. You ruined me. And us”. He looked at you, gaze fixated on your trembling lips. “‘Cause you forgot when you promised… that we’d always be together. ‘To grow up, and grow old together’, do you remember?” You let out a breathy chuckle, tears already collecting on your eyelashes. “Because I do. I remember, uh… I remember when I thought you meant it. ‘Cause I did”.
The last sentence came out as a whisper as you almost collapsed there; Namjoon was quick to catch you and hold you in his arms, while you let out muffled cries. He wrapped his arms around you even tighter when you body started shaking because of all of the sobbing. You heard his breath hitch, chest heavy as he let you cry out in his arms for as long as you could.
And when you calmed down, you raised your head to find him looking at you, cheeks wet from tears. You gently wiped them away, subconsciously smiling — just because you felt cozy in his arms again. And as he cupped your cheek and returned a smile, you couldn’t hold back any longer.
I’m a swift moment your back was pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist. The kiss was sloppy, saliva dripping from both of your mouths as your tongues battled for dominance. You were both grinding on each other, moaning every time his growing bulge would touch your closeted clit.
As your clothes were left somewhere in the living room, you were on the bed, fingers tangled in his hair. Namjoon was between your legs again, biting your thighs gently.
“Joon-“
“Don’t say a word”, he growled, ripping your panties off your body, “you didn’t let me finish this last time. Take it as a good girl now”.
You’d forgotten his dominant persona; when he was this demanding during sex, you loved turning into the obedient mess he was making out of you.
Slow circles drawn by his tongue on your clit, torturous pleasure making you arch your back. His hands were massaging your hips, as he lapped at your folds, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Parting your lips, he tongue-fucked you, moving rapidly from licking your folds to sucking on your clit. One of your hands tugged on his hair, burying yourself in the soft curls, while the other was pressed to your mouth in order not to let a single sound escape. All of your neighbors knew who your fiancé was; and tonight, he wasn’t in town.
Heat pooling in the lower back, you felt your cheeks burning. The familiar ache between your thighs signaled at you chasing a climax, and the sloppy sounds Namjoon was making brought you even closer to the edge. As you slightly raised your head to look at him, you found him watching you the entire time while making broad strokes with his tongue, eating you out as if you’d been his last dessert.
“You wanna come, baby?”, he asked, slipping two fingers inside, slowly spreading your pussy open, ready for him. “Where d’you wanna come?”
You panted. “On y-your..”
Namjoon moved from in between your legs and you gasped at a loss of contact; he positioned himself at your entrance, his even more bulky body hovering over you now.
“On my mouth?” He asked again, a playful smile on his lips. You noticed saliva dripping down his chin and leaned forward to lick it, savoring your own taste on the tongue. Namjoon moaned and grabbed the back of your head to pull you in another sloppy kiss.
“On your dick”, an open-mouthed kiss left on his jaw, “I wanna come on your dick”.
A smug smile on his face. “Your wish is my command, baby”.
He pushed in inch by inch, making your breath hitch in your throat. In a mere moment you were stuffed with him again, and it felt-
“So, so good”, you whined, hand grabbing the back of his neck, “Joon, uh, shit!”
“I haven’t even moved yet”, he whispered against your lips, “and you’re already begging? Pretty girl”, he tucked strained hair behind your ear, “all mine”.
And his hips snapped. In a merciless rhythm, he thrusted in an out of your entrance, hitting that sweet spot with every frenzied pound of his. He sucked on your lips, teeth grazing, as his thumb was pressed onto your clit, circling around.
“Aw”, he cooed, hand grabbing your breast, “your legs are trembling. Does it feel that good?”
“Yeah”, you breathed out, pressing your tits to his chest, grabbing his back to pull him even closer if it were possible. You were kissing each other, lips nibbling, hot breaths on skin.
“O-oh shit”, he huffed, the sound of smacking flesh being music to his ears. He licked the skin on your collarbones, as your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks all over them. “You’re all mine, baby”, his breathy moans filled in the room, “mine, and mine only”.
You let out a chuckle. “Ah-I.. I’m not.. y-yours…”.
He growled into your ear, hands grabbing your hips roughly to lift them up a little, fingers leaving marks.
He slammed into you frantically. “You” Another slam. “Are”. Slam. “Mine”. Slam.
You bit on his shoulder to hold back your moans. “D’you understand this, baby?” He kept on drawing circles on your swollen clit. “You’re my girl”.
Having heard his last words, you felt your walls fluttering around his cock, and your eyes rolled back as you only saw the dark while Namjoon fucked you through your high. Sweet nothings whispered into your ear, with the one last powerful thrust he emptied himself inside of you, painting you as his once again. You both were shivering but holding each other tightly as Namjoon left a languid kiss on your lips.
He fucked you in the shower several minutes later; made you come on his fingers when you were trying to get dressed; you sucked him off as he sat on the couch. The couch you fiancé bought you.
After that you swore to never see Namjoon again. You tried to forget that you cheated on your future husband with your ex-boyfriend, but not even a week later you found yourself on your knees in the studio.
“Fu-uck, baby”, Namjoon croaked, as you swirled your tongue over the tip of his cock, “you’re being such a good girl to me. Sucking me off so, so perfectly”. He brushed the hair out of your face, maintaining an eye contact. “Only you, my girl, shit, only you”.
After that? You broke it off again. You were torn between the perfect, healthy relationship you’ve had with Dae-Hyun and that unhealthy, hot mess you and Namjoon shared. You wouldn’t continue this affair, you’d break up with him again and move on to your wedding preparations.
But you just had to come back and taste him one more time. You had to make excuses, to cover it up with rehearsals and late night studio sessions, with dance practices leaving you sweaty and out-of-breath. Joon would fuck you in the practice room, making you watch yourself in the mirror, and then you’d get seated in Dae-Hyun’s car, while he drove you home.
You were the most horrible person on the entire planet. Although, you swore to yourself it’ll all end when you get married; after the official ceremony, you’ll be committed to Dae-Hyun only. The time passed, you’d get dicked down by your ex at any possible moment and then you’d come back to your fiancé to have him gently make love to you. Such stupid double-life moment will always result in disaster.
And so it does now. You’re standing next to the sink, a pregnancy test in your hands. His arms suddenly wrap around your waist, head on your shoulder.
“Is it mine?” Namjoon whispers, kissing your neck slowly, knowing exactly whose baby you were pregnant with.
“Yeah”, you breathe out. Dae-Hyun would always use protection, as the two of you planned to have kids after the marriage. Now, you guessed, the whole plan went south.
“Good”, Joon responds, his grip on you tightening. “Means we’ll get married now”.
What a shit show. All of the thoughts were mixed into a mess in your head, not knowing whether to get an abortion, break up with Joon and go back to Dae-Hyun like nothing happened, or to start a messy little family with your ex-boyfriend. What have I done?
As you have stated many times, Dae-Hyun was a better man. Namjoon, on the other hand, was toxic and possessive, needy to keep you around for him and him only. And, as much as you wanted to become a better woman alongside Dae-Hyun, you were destined to be a beautiful disaster beside Kim Namjoon.
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Note
Kendall Roy angst or fluff with scenario m (keeping the relationship a secret) please
Illicit Affair.
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m. Keeping the relationship a secret
Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my baby kendall - all i want for him is a happy ending :( sorry lukas, but kennys my boy <3
Pairing - Kendall Roy x Matsson!Female Reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - cursing, cheating
Word Count - 650
Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.
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You're practically vibrating with anticipation.
The Roys are coming to the annual retreat in Norway to attempt to finalise the GoJo deal with your husband, Lukas.
In approximately 20 minutes, you're going to be face to face with Kendall Logan Roy.
The love of your life.
Admittedly, having an affair with one of your husbands business rivals wasn't on your to-do list. However, the first time you met Kendall, you knew it was inevitable.
You are irreversibly, undeniably, completely illicitly in love with a man who's not your husband.
It's been surprisingly easy to sneak around. Bathrooms, back rooms, offices with the blinds closed. Fleeting touches, momentary eye contact, silent communication. Every time Kendall looks at you, he lights your nerve endings on fire.
You both know it's doomed to fail. You'll have to end it privately, or you'll get caught and have to end it publicly. It doesn't stop you, though.
The Roys arrive, and you all go about formal greetings and passive aggressive hellos. The entire time, Kendall's eyes are locked on you, completely unflinching. Your husband is too preoccupied to notice the man looking at his wife like she hung the stars in the sky.
Kendall nods his head subtly, signalling in the direction of the bedrooms. You tap your watch, giving him a signal - wait for me. He grabs his bags and goes to unpack, while you mill around, waiting for your chance to leave.
Finally, the small talk dies down, and you find your opportunity.
"I'm going to go and catch up with a few of their team," you tell Lukas. "Haven't seen them in a while."
He knows you're fairly friendly with people like Jess, as you've seen her often. He doesn't question it, just presses a kiss to your cheek distractedly, walking off to talk to Gerri and Frank.
You slink down the hallways, practically running to Kendall's door. You barely knock once before it swings open, strong arms pulling you inside.
Kendall cradles your face in his hands, and looks at you carefully.
"Hi," he whispers, breaking out into a grin.
"Hi, yourself," you whisper back, smiling like a madwoman.
He pulls you into his arms, his warmth seeping into your skin. He smells like musk and fresh soap and that cologne you gifted him for his birthday last year.
"Missed you," you murmur into his chest, tightening your grip.
"I missed you," he replies into your hair. "So fucking much."
"Don't leave it so long next time," you beg. "I'm going insane here without you."
"I'm sorry, honey" he mutters, pulling back to look at you. "Everything's been fucking crazy."
You throw your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.
"I'm sorry about your dad, Ken," you say against his mouth. "He was the fucking worst, but he was still your father."
"Finally," he chuckles. "Someone who gets it."
He kisses you harder this time, one hand tangling in your hair. The other caresses your cheek, thumb stroking soothing circles.
"Promise me something."
"Anything, sweetheart. Anything."
"Whatever happens with this shit - promise me it won't affect us. I'm not losing you over a fucking business deal, Ken," you plead.
He smiles gently - a rare and beautiful sight.
"You are the only thing in this entire world that I am sure of," he reassures. "I don't give a fuck about this deal, or your husband. I care about you. Just you."
You kiss him in reply, lost in the way you fit together so perfectly. You're like two pieces of the same puzzle, twin flames that have finally found each other.
"I swear, when this is over, I'm moving you to New York. It'll be me and you against the world."
You must look unsure, because he continues.
"Fuck the rest of them."
"Fuck the rest of them," you grin. "Me and you against the world, Kendall Roy."
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325 notes · View notes
latteseungs · 11 months
Text
moth to a flame : seungmin
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moth to a flame : ksm
pairing: seungmin x f!reader (ft. lee know) genre: heavy angst, smut, there's not a speck of fluff in this, non-idol au word count: 4.4k warnings: 18+ minors please do not interact. cheating (please do not read if you are uncomfy with themes like this and for the love of god please don't cheat), name calling (babe, baby, love), explicit sexual content, desperate / jealous / possessive unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, choking, use of foul language, drinking, masturbation (m), oral (f. receiving), no happy ending, god this is a lot wow
✦ 。description: you loved seungmin out of convenience. but he was almost everything you ever wished for. the only thing missing was he wasn't minho.
📓 .✦𓂃 masterlist | AO3 | reblogs are very much appreciated <3
author's note: be mindful of the timestamps. hihi. this fic is inspired by moth to a flame by swedish house mafia ft. the weeknd, illicit affairs by taylor swift, and a few hints of high infidelity by taylor swift too. i highly recommend giving moth to a flame a listen while you read <3 an additional warning that i hate y/n here. i really do. lmAO. also, would really really appreciate some feedback because this was kinda out of my comfort zone when it comes to writing. anw, thanks for being here!!
april 2023 7:46 pm
“Hi baby, how was your day?”
You felt a pang in your chest once you heard your fiancé’s voice. He was in the kitchen as usual, drinking his favorite homemade coffee as he watched kdramas on his phone, even if you have a fully functioning large tv in the living area.
“It was alright,” an outright lie.
Work was shit. Co-workers were shit. But even if everything in your work life is slowly coming into flames and you have no choice but to face some of the shittiest people ever as your clients, you can’t believe that the shittiest out of all of them was still you.
Seungmin seemed suspicious of how you answered, probably sensing that you were lying right through your teeth. How he knows you like the back of his hand was absolutely endearing. But sometimes, all it felt like were a ton of bricks on your back.
“You sure about that, babe?” He asked, starting to put down his phone on the table. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
You hate him.
You hate how so damn perfect he is. You hate how much he loves you.
But you hate yourself more for not loving him the same way.
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5:15 pm that day
“You should have told them that it wasn’t possible then?”
“It was possible, but not with the time frame they gave me!” You exclaimed exhaustively as you crashed on the couch. You pulled Minho’s button down tightly around your body, finding comfort in his scent.
“And don’t you dare tell me that I should have told them too because you, of all people, know how much I need this deal closed.”
Minho scoffed, “Shouldn’t your fiancé know about this too?”
You abruptly fixed how you sat on Minho’s couch, pushing a hand through your bed-ruined hair. Seungmin knows about the deal you have been trying to secure for almost six months now, but he doesn’t know as much as Minho does.
And that’s on you.
“Please, he also knows about this,” you were defensive, holding up your arms to your chest as you tried not to overthink.
“Then you wouldn’t be here ranting about it again for probably the third time this week alone,” he petted Soonie on his lap as he gulped the rest of his beer. His eyes never landed on yours as he talked about your fiancé.
“He’s a lawyer, for god’s sake. He would have probably closed this deal of yours months ago.”
Minho was right. He always was. Even if he was one of the most outstanding chief marketing officers out there, you sure as hell needed a good lawyer to back you too. But your fucking pride and independent mentality are in the way. You knew Seungmin could have helped you ever since you talked about the terms and conditions of the contract. You knew that Seungmin could have easily discussed how you could have agreed with better terms. You knew that Seungmin could have lessened the stress that you were going through now. But you didn’t even share a peep with him, only the tip of the iceberg.
“You know me and my tendencies to not ask for help.”
“Yeah, I know,” he grimaced. “But I can’t help but think you have a different purpose; why you didn’t ask your Seungmin to rescue you.”
He sounded cocky and bitter, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind. You didn’t ask your oh-so-perfect fiancé because you didn’t want to seem like a damsel in distress. You didn’t want to look like you were using his career to boost yours. This was your work, your business, so why the hell would you cry out to be saved?
“Care to enlighten me?” You poked, knowing damn well that Minho wouldn’t dare explain his thoughts.
“You did it to have reason to be constantly here, using my job as a cover-up, and not make it look like you’re cheating on your soon-to-be husband.”
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december 2022
“Don’t be stupid,” Chan throws you a judging stare. “And don’t you dare look at me like that because I know you came to me for a reality check and not some advice you want to hear.”
You kept your mouth shut. Thinking about leaving your perfectly good boyfriend to get back with a borderline-toxic ex might be one of your stupidest thoughts to date. Chan, being one of your closest friends for the longest time, is verbalizing it because you can never admit it to yourself.
He sighed, plopping down beside you as he handed you the beer you requested. “Cheers,” he mumbled, raising his bottle of energy drink.
“It’s stupid, no?” You groaned. “Even the thought of it is stupid.”
“Yes, it is, and I’m glad to know that you actually recognize that.”
“But—”
“But, what?” He immediately cut you off, probably knowing what you’ll say next. “It doesn’t feel the same way with Seungmin? There’s no thrill? There’s no rush?”
Shame. You were the one who would judge people for leaving their partners just for a speck of thrill before. And now you’re the one being judged. You can’t lie to yourself because you know for a fact that you deserve it.
“People would kill to be in a relationship you’re currently in, y/n. That peace you’re feeling with Seungmin? Some people crave that because they know that ‘peace’ in a relationship is what you call home. It makes them realize they’re finally with the one they’re meant for.”
But it doesn’t feel that way with Seungmin.
It was smooth sailing with Seungmin. It was actually a breeze with him—safe. He treated you like royalty. You don’t even want to think about how he looks at you because you would feel guilty even contemplating leaving him. He would hold you in his eyes like you had the entire universe. And in his world, maybe you did.
“Look,” Chan cleared his throat. “I am in no place to say this, but you need to hear it.”
You took a gulp of your beer before looking at him, prepared to hear the most heart-wrenching speech that would finally wake you up to reality and stop with your fantasy land.
But the words that came out of Chan’s mouth were something you would have never expected. Not at least for another two or three years.
“What do you mean he’s going to propose?” You gasped. It wasn’t impossible, considering the two of you have been dating for at least three years. The both of you had a stable job, your family adores him, and you’re both living together… it made sense. It would be more unusual if he wasn’t thinking about it. But to you, it felt too soon, like you were rushing into it.
“I’m not that kind of person who wants to put words in other people’s mouths, but just hear me out, okay?” he squeezed his hand on top of yours.
“Say yes. Accept it. Nothing gets better after Kim Seungmin. Trust me. Minho gave you nothing but heartbreak.”
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7:58 pm
“No, baby, it’s okay, really. I’m just tired from work,” you said, kissing Seungmin on the cheek.
He sighed as he got a whiff of Minho’s perfume off of his fiancée. He wasn’t sure how many times he got to smell it that week, but he stopped counting right after knowing that this would be a regular thing for you.
You were being distant again. You always were right after being with Minho. Even if you try your best to hide that you were with him that day, a scent always lingers. Seungmin honestly doesn’t know if you were sleeping with your ex or doing anything physical with him; the fact that you would rather be with someone else hurts the same way.
Seungmin tried. He really did. But it seems like he was never really enough for you. Seungmin wasn’t dumb. He knows you were still madly in love with your ex-boyfriend even after you said yes to his proposal. He knew what he was getting into when he first started dating you, but he thought that over time, he could finally replace Minho in your heart. So maybe he is a little stupid, thinking you could get over the love of your life.
“Do you want me to run you a bath, babe?” Seungmin asked as he entered the bedroom. You were a little startled because you were in the middle of changing, but you immediately settled down when you turned to see him.
“Thanks, baby, but I’ll just cha—”
Seungmin interrupted you with kisses trailing down your neck from behind. His hands swiftly made their way to your bare waist as he gently pulled your back to him. He made sure that you felt the growing bulge from his pants.
He wanted to see if some part of you still belonged to him.
A soft moan escaped your lips, but you held Seungmin on the nape, making him halt his ministrations to your skin. “I’m not in much of a mood today, Seung.” You whispered apologetically.
That felt like a gunshot to Seungmin’s chest. He rested his head on your shoulder in defeat.
“We haven’t had sex in almost a month, y/n,” He breathed, honestly ready to raise a white flag. The way he said your name was so full of emotion and pent-up exhaustion.
He wasn’t trying to force you to do anything with him. He wasn’t some sex-deprived maniac. He can keep his dick in his pants. He doesn’t even mind if you both don’t fuck for more than a month. What worries him is that you don’t want to do it with him. This was one of the things that Seungmin was holding on to, one of the things to see if you were still even slightly attracted to him, whether it may be purely physical, he’d accept it.
It was a desperate move. But Seungmin was desperate.
You stiffened in his hold after you heard him. Twisting in his linked arms, you circled your own on his neck. “Has it really been that long?”
Seungmin didn’t even try to look at you, his eyes locked on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Seung,” you rested your palm on his cheek, turning his head in your direction, getting him to look at you. “I’ve just been so busy with the deal.” You sounded so guilty, and of course, as always, Seungmin ate it up. He always drops down his walls whenever he feels even an ounce of love from you.
“Let me make it up to you,” you started to go down to your knees, but Seungmin immediately pulled you up.
“Baby, you don’t have to do that,” he said, holding onto your arms.
“But I want to,” you dragged, starting to pepper his face with kisses.
And that was it. Seungmin folded. You have him wrapped around your fingers once again. At least he knows he was not entirely out of the picture yet.
“If you want to make it up to me, let’s do it properly,” Seungmin grumbled before kissing you fervently. He tried to kiss you with so much passion; maybe there, he could make you feel all the raw love he has for you.
Even if you don’t feel the same way.
He laid you gently on your bed, a soft moan escaping your lips when his knees came in contact with your center. Seungmin did it again and applied some pressure, making you squirm under him.
“Seung,” you moaned out, hands lifting his shirt. Your hand ran through the expanse of his torso as Seungmin shivered lightly with the way you traced his toned stomach.
He made his way down to your legs, two of his fingers tracing your clothed, wet core. He placed kisses on the inside of your thighs before pushing your underwear to the side. He tentatively placed his tongue on your clit, and you covered your mouth to stop yourself from letting out a loud groan.
He ran a stripe of his tongue on your sex, making you hold onto his hair with greater force than you intended. Seungmin felt his pants restrict even more with every sound you make, with every pull of his hair that you do. But even if he started to feel uncomfortable with how his cock went hard, he continued to lap you, making sure that no one else would make you feel the way he was making you feel right now.
“Fuck, Seungmin!” You let out, not stopping yourself anymore.
With the scream that left your lips, Seungmin couldn’t help himself. He took out his cock from his pants and pumped himself off as he continued to push his tongue in you, his other hand circling your clit.
“Yes, baby. Don’t stop. That’s so hot,” you were panting, feeling your release coming to a close when you saw Seungmin getting himself off with his hand while he ate you out.
When you started to feel the buildup in your lower stomach, Seungmin stopped altogether. You almost complained before you felt him enter you with no warning. He bottomed out immediately with how wet you were. You could instantly feel his cock in parts of you that only felt like heaven.
Seungmin tried to muffle his groan by kissing your chest, but his voice still resonated. He undid your bra quickly as he started to thrust into you. He palmed your breast, the other being sucked into his mouth while he slammed his hips into you.
“Oh my fucking god, Seungmin!” You practically screamed.
His hands on your tits were now placed around your neck, adding a little pleasure you always liked.
“You’re mine, right?” Seungmin suddenly asked.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
You can feel your release starting to build up again on your lower stomach as you continue to take your fiancé’s cock in you. He was hitting all the right spots, and you were starting to see stars.
“Say it!” Seungmin demanded again.
“I’m yours, Seungmin!” He felt you come around him, your constraining walls feeling perfectly around his throbbing dick, your moans filling the bedroom.
“You’re mine,” he mumbled, his thrusts starting to feel erratic as he came too close to release. “I’m the only one who gets to come inside you.”
Seungmin was surprised by the words that left his mouth. He was never this possessive. Not even during sex. But maybe all the feelings that he’s been trying to bottle up were slowly spilling.
“I’m yours, Seung.” You whispered again before feeling Seungmin shoot his hot cum around your walls.
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1:43 am
“Do you hate me that much to call me at this hour? Are you for real right now?” Minho grumbled from the other end.
“Then why did you answer, you dipshit?”
“Because I have no self-control when it comes to you.”
A silence enveloped the two of you. All you could hear was rustling and maybe one of the cats trying to lay beside Minho in bed.
You snuck outside your bedroom just to go out the balcony so you could call him in peace, ensuring that Seungmin was sleeping soundly in bed. After what happened with Seungmin earlier, it made you wonder if you were really not paying that much attention to him anymore. He rarely showed that vulnerable side of himself to you because he was always so composed and put together. Seeing him somewhat defeated earlier made your chest hurt.
You admit you’re unfaithful, but it doesn’t mean you don’t love him even, if that sounds so messed up.
“C’mon, what do you want? I have to leave early for work later, and Doongie is getting real chatty.”
You chuckled after hearing the constant meowing from the background; Doongie was probably grumpy that you woke him up too.
“It’s nothing. I just…” You sighed, not even remembering why you called Minho. Now you have to think of something important because he would probably not let you hear the end of it the next time you see him. If there is a next time, at least.
Thoughts started to leave your mind as your heart calmed at just hearing the sound of Minho’s breathing. No matter what others say about him or what he did to you when you were together, nothing would amount to how he makes you feel. Who would have thought that breathing through a call would calm you down? He didn’t even need to say anything.
“If I… if I break it off with Seungmin… Would you take me back?”
The question suddenly came out of you. It wasn’t even what you were planning to say. But the long pause that Minho gave as a response was already an answer.
When you were about to say you would hang up, Minho cleared his throat.
“Would you leave Seungmin?”
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one week later 7:50 pm
“Aren’t you supposed to be rich?”
You scoffed at Minho’s snarky comment, but you continued to stir the pot in front of you.
After the little call that you made with Minho last week, it really shook something inside you. But you, being the coward that you are, ignored it. You promised yourself that you would start coming to Minho for business-related purposes only. Still, here you are again, cooking a meal for the both of you instead of doing it for your boyfriend.
“You probably have a personal chef at your beck and call in your huge penthouse, so why the hell would you ransack my barely stocked cupboard and refrigerator for food? You do know that I have three cats to feed, right?”
“Shut up, that’s nonsense.”
“How dare you call my cats nonsense? Look at those little devils enjoying their playground that’s worth at least a month of my sala—”
“Idiot!” you playfully hit Minho’s arm after he misunderstood what you said. “I was talking about having a personal chef; that was nonsense. I’m not rich.”
“Yeah, say all you want. But your fiancé is probably swimming in money.”
There he goes again. You sighed, turned off the stove, and removed your apron as you entered his living room.
Minho has been quite vocal about you being with Seungmin lately. It was like an unspoken rule between the both of you to rarely talk about him when you two were together. Seungmin doesn’t exist when it’s just the two of you. But recently, he keeps pointing out how you were with someone else.
You heard his footsteps follow you to the sofa, but you didn’t even want to look at him. He called out your name, but you didn’t respond. When his voice went stern, you finally glanced in his direction. He stood a few feet away from you, hands bawled into fists.
“Leave him,” Minho’s voice was barely above a whisper, but you heard him clearly. So loud that you felt like it echoed throughout the whole apartment.
“What?” You feel breathless, feeling like you were underwater; your body suddenly doesn’t want to move to gasp for air.
“Be with me.”
Minho was determined. He was finally tired of hiding. He was tired of pretending he was okay when you didn’t stay the night or hurry home before the two of you get caught. He was so sick of trying to meet you in secret or only seeing you when there was no sun outside.
He wanted to hold your hand, grab you by the waist, kiss you on your forehead. He wanted all those things back. He loved you and wanted everyone to know how much he did. He may have fucked up before, but he swore he would do better when you decide to be with him instead.
He was sick of all the sneaking around and all the lies he needed to remember. He doesn’t think he has the stomach to hold it all together much longer.
“Choose me.”
Tears were pricking your eyes, and your vision blurred with the image of Minho waiting for your answer. All you could do was open your mouth, but no words came out. You weren’t sure of the answer the day he asked if you would leave Seungmin for him. You thought that some part of you could do it and finally be with Minho. He was your greatest love and you thought you could drop everything just to be with him. But right now, with Minho almost begging you to be with him, leaving Seungmin suddenly became a clear-cut picture in your head.
You couldn’t do it.
Seungmin was too perfect. His love for you was so pure. You know that you can never return the amount of love he has for you, but you know for sure that you love him enough to stay.
And you don’t love Minho enough to choose him.
“I—”
A single tear fell from Minho’s eye. He knows.
“No, don’t,” he sighed. “you don’t need to say it. He’s good for you.”
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8:06 pm
The silence between you and Minho was ear-piercing. Even after deciding that you’re not leaving your boyfriend over him, you can’t believe he still has the heart to lead you outside his apartment and volunteer to take you to your car because of how dark the streets get.
It would have been pitch dark outside if not for the dimly lit street lights and the flashlight on Minho’s phone guiding your steps on the pavement as you looked for your car. You were so used to leaving Minho’s apartment at this time that the darkness didn’t even bother you anymore.
Not until a voice so familiar called out your name from a distance.
“What’s this?”
Your heart dropped to your feet.
“Seungmin—”
“Is that Minho with you?”
Minho was suddenly in front of you, his body covering yours as Seungmin stepped closer to the both of you.
“What the hell are you doing with my fiancée?” Seungmin’s voice was raised, a voice you had never come out from him through all the years that you were together. He doesn’t look like himself. His eyes were blazing with mixed feelings, anger, hurt, betrayal, and it was all because of you.
You pushed Minho away from in front of you and ran towards Seungmin, tears overflowing in your eyes as you tried to reach for your boyfriend’s hand.
“Seungmin, I can explain, I promise!” You sounded hysterical, trying to get a hold of Seungmin, but his eyes were zeroed in on the man behind you.
“Seungmin!” Grabbing his face in your hands, you tried to get him to look at you instead. “Listen to me. This isn’t his fault. It’s me, all me, okay?”
“No,” He removed your hold from him, the voice he let out seeming like broken glass but unwavering. “You listen to me.”
A strained whimper came out from your lips, not knowing what to do. It felt like your whole world was falling apart slowly and painfully right in front of your eyes with every tear that fell from Seungmin’s eyes.
It was you who did this.
“You know what? All this time that you’ve been sneaking around with him,” there was so much venom in the way he spoke as he pointed at Minho, but he remained quiet and still, letting all the anger fall on him.
“I know about it. I’m not naive! But I told myself that one day, one day, you’re gonna stop,” Seungmin tried his best to hold in his sob, but it was too much for him. “One day, you’ll finally feel that you belong with me.”
He tried his best to remember all the times he did you wrong. He tried to think if everything he did was too big of a mistake that you have the need to cheat on him. Did he not treat you right? What was missing from him that you found in Minho instead?
He ran a hand through his hair, furiously wiping the salty tears that kept falling. “Every fucking time I smell his perfume off of you, I told myself that I would turn a blind eye to it as long as you don’t get yourself caught. As long as I’m the one you come home to.”
The pain you were feeling right now would never amount to the pain that Seungmin was feeling. All the time he kept it all in, it finally pierced through his chest, that it felt like he was physically bleeding from the pain.
“Do I love you too much to do that?”
You sob, unable to bear how much hurt you’re putting him through right now. You tried reaching for him again, but he immediately stepped away. He looked at you like he saw a completely different person was before him, not someone he asked to marry.
“Seungmin, please. I stopped. I promise I did. I already cut things off with him to stay with you,” at that point, you didn’t care. What you said was so wretched and cruel for both of the people there with you, but you couldn’t possibly see your future without Seungmin. It was too late for you to realize that, but you’re taking all your chances here just to be able to stay with him.
He scoffed. He couldn’t honestly believe that you thought you would win him back with that. “Is that supposed to make me happy? Is that supposed to redeem yourself?” He questioned incredulously. “Do you think that you finally leaving Minho after all these months, I would forgive you?”
Minho remained quiet behind you. He just stood there, taking all of it in. He deserved it. In fact, he thought he deserved more than the words coming out of Seungmin. He probably deserved a hit in the face or a few curses and vile words from your fiancé, but Seungmin wasn’t like that. That’s how nice he was; he wouldn’t even curse the man you had illicit affairs with.
While you, on the other hand, can’t do anything but cry. It was pathetic of you, but you know there was no escape from this. This was the end of the line, and you knew there was no one to blame except you and your selfishness.
Seungmin covered his tear-stricken face as he let out a choked laugh, “It’s fucking bullshit that I still don’t hate you after all of this.”
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trordiscord · 1 year
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FEST MASTERLIST
Huge thank you to all of our amazing participants! We have a total of 15 submissions from 11 creators who produced a total of 2 fabulous art pieces and 46,688 written words for this fest!
Please check out all our amazing entries under the cut!
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❤ Insatiate by doshu E | 1.9k | Complete | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Voldemort stole both Harry and the Philosopher’s Stone, and doomed Harry to live a half-life. That was ten years ago.
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❤ In the library [Art] by chiocchi G | Art | No Archive Warnings Apply
Tom Riddle was always the last one to go to sleep and the first to wake up. Sleeping was a waste of time that left him in a vulnerable state and he didn't trust anyone. Dating Harry wasn't going to change that. Or so he thought.
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❤ Friends with Knives (and Benefits) by ChemFreak E | 5k | Complete | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Tom discovers that his fuckbuddy/friend with benefits/roommate Harry has a very compatible kink. What begins as a mutual arrangement quickly develops into something more.
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❤ nothing left to lose by eleven_eaves E | 7.4k | WIP | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Earlier that day, they had gotten into such a disagreement, the same one as always. But Tom held all the cards, and he knew it. “Please...” Harry begs. “Please, put it... put it back in me. I need to feel it again.” Tom smiles down at him, vicious and coldly amused. “No.”
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❤ monochrome by Ilyaa_zzz M | 5.4k | Complete | No Archive Warnings Apply
Tom deals with soulmates. “I found her,” you say, and it is the tone of your voice that clues me in on what you are talking about. We have gone over this before- the name tattooed on your wrist. We have talked about what would happen if we ever found her, what you would like me to do or say if it were me who crossed paths with her. I called you paranoid, then, because it is only a small percent of people in this world that ever cross paths with their soulmate. But I should have known, if someone could have such luck, then it would be you.
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❤ Anniversary by doshu E | 3.7k | Complete | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
There’s a feather-light touch to Harry’s scar, one that lingers before trailing around the side of his face, coming to rest over his lower lip and tugging it slightly. Harry steels himself, then opens his eyes. “Hello, husband,” he says, facing Voldemort’s hungry gaze. “Happy anniversary.”
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❤ Identity by crowthing E | 5.1k | Complete | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
It's been a year since Harry and Tom started dating, and a few days since Tom found out about his inheritance. They decide to celebrate their anniversary by taking a trip to the middle of nowhere to check out the Gaunt estate. This should be fine and perfectly safe. If Tom's warnings about his alter ego were actually serious, it would have come up by now.
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❤ Stress Relief by Lolo_69 E | 2.7k | Complete | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Tom gets back from a grueling day of work at the MoM only to find his boyfriend already in bed, asleep.
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❤ it's kind of tripping me up babe, i've got it bad for you by Limonium E | 3.4k | Complete | No Archive Warnings Apply
This could've been prevented, if they were paying attention. Harry says they were. Voldemort sighs, exasperated. His little menace. “Were we?” “Yeah.” Harry answers confidently. Paying attention to each other. Voldemort pinches him on his side for his cheek. Who would’ve expected magical books to be so volatile around people having sex? * In which they get isekai'd into a cursed erotica book.
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❤ We're (Not) Together by doshu E | 3k | Complete | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
From Tom's point of view, they never broke up.
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❤ you alone of all creatures by pwplicity (duplicity) E | 3.3k | Complete | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
You never ask, and I do not offer. What we have—what we do—is an illicit, unspoken affair. There is no place for us in the light, where my robes bear a Prefect’s badge and you are addressed as ‘sir’, and so I have been cornering you, for weeks now, in darkened corridors and dusty, abandoned classrooms.
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❤ silk of midnight and dawn by Sinning Ilya (Ilyaa_zzz) E | 2.9k | Complete | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Harry approaches, quietly, arms raised in front of him. But it doesn’t take long before pale skin transforms into soft fur as dark as the night sky. Red eyes, now green, look at Harry with such an intensity that he has to take a step back. Four-legged and as imposing as he is when standing in two, Tom Riddle has transformed into a panther. It’s a big thing, compared to Harry’s short build, exuding raw power as if it was a second skin clinging to it. It stalks around him, sniffing his clothes with what Harry hopes is harmless curiosity. Harry swallows thickly, with difficulty, the sound almost audible in the sudden silence that appears to have fallen over them. Deep down Harry knows he is safe. He knows Tom remains somewhere inside the beast’s head, that Tom would never let anything happen to him. But it isn’t often that one encounters such a ferocious animal, dangerous and on the loose, so who can blame him if he feels like he is going to shit his pants any second now?
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❤ Because it is his by TheOnceandFutureQueenofTarts E | 2k | Complete | No Archive Warnings Apply
He glanced over his shoulder and caught Tom staring intently at Harry’s… well, Tom’s arse. “Tom.” To his credit, Tom showed not an ounce of shame as he let his eyes drift up to meet Harry’s. “Yes, darling?” “Were you just effectively checking yourself out?” Or: One time, someone told Tom to go f*** himself. He took that to heart.
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❤ The Green Herring by duplicity G | 0.7k | Complete | No Archive Warnings Apply
There are more important things to know about Harry Evans.
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❤ That's Your Boyfriend by solavonn (vonnibel) G | Art | No Archive Warnings Apply
In which Tom decides to try out Quidditch and Harry is in awe featuring Ron Weasley.
57 notes · View notes
romanarose · 1 year
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Seattle: Part 3
Marc Spector X Fem!OC
Chapter 2 : Chapter 4
Seattle Masterlist
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Fic summary: A friend from Marc's past calls on him for help when she's trapped in an abusive relationship, but will show allow him and Steven to help?
Chapter summary: Rebecca and Marc travel from Seattle to Rebecca's new home with Marc in New York. Marc reflects on how much Becca changed and the night they spent together
WARNINGS!: Mentions of abusive relationship (not with Marc), mentions of miscarriage, smut, PIV sex, loss of virginity (m and f) fingering, Marc being a bit subby (idk why i moved it to this direction but I thought it would be a bit of a change from other loss of virginity fics)
Scenes in italics are flashbacks.
Italics are Marc, Bold is Steven. This is very Marc focused, but Steven will make appearances.
**************
Marc waited patiently outside the women's bathroom door for Rebecca to return, he heard her voice as she walked out. “Stop, listen, no, dad”
Anger surged through Marc, but not at her, never at her. Why was she talking to her dad? He knew she was back in contact, that she had been at least since the wedding, where Marc avoided him simply out of respect for her and her wedding day. Not that he had any respect for her marriage, he always hated Jack, but purely out of respect for Becca. Jack had hated him from the beginning, as did her dad.
“Yes, I’m getting divorced. I know you don’t approve, but that’s what I’m- god, I know how old I am!”
Marc, as irritated as he was, couldn’t help but smile a bit. This, this was the Rebecca he knew. Not the watered down, painfully polite, passive version. No, the version he knew was this; the version that stood up for herself, the version that stood up to her dad, no matter what happened. 
“Hey dad, Marc and I are going to study in my room” She called to her dad as she dragged Marc down the hall to her room, passing the living room where Carl sat watching the game. Packers game. Of course he was a fucking Packers fan, only person in Chicago who was a fuckign Packers fan.
“Stop.” He called.
In front of him, you stopped, pausing for a moment. He could feel you prepping yourself. 
“Becca, get in here.” He called again.
Rebecca turned to Marc quickly, shoulder length brown waved bobbing as she grabbed Marc’s shoulder, whispering. “Stay here, don’t. Move.” When she walked past Marc and he turned, she stopped dead in her tracks. “Don’t”
Rounding the corner, she put on a smile as she disappeared. Marc could make out some of the words her dad said, names he called her: Slut, whore, bitch. The usual. A slap. Marc clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to go in there, to protect her. But he knew that would make things worse. She said to stay, he had to trust her. 
“We’re not doing anything, dad. He’s just my friend.” a pause and her dad said something. “Maybe I’m gay” She taunted. Marc smiled, there she was, until he heard another slap. 
Rebecca came flying out of the room, grabbing Marc’s hand and pulling him into the room. She called to the living room. “We’re keeping the door open!”. When they sat on the bed, Rebecca noticed Marc looking at her red face. “Don’t”
“Beccs, we can study elsewhere, it doesn’t have to be here.”
She shook her head. “Nope. This is my home. I understand he doesn’t want me getting pregnant under his roof so I’ll respect keeping the door open, but I’m not going to tip toe in my own home”
“Oh yeah, Jack talk to you huh? Jack also tell you he bruised three ribs and scalded my face with hot water?...... Ohoho of course you don’t see a problem with that…. Take a wild fucking guess who I’m with….. Yeah, you’re favorite…. I don’t have an attitude, I’m an adult! Okay, you know what? I’m gonna hang up, Marc and I have a very busy day ahead with our illicit affair, lot’s of extra marital sex to have, babies to make.” With that, she hung up.
Rebecca turned to Marc, who stared at her, mouth agape. “What?”
“Nothing.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Just happy to see you being yourself.” 
Her face faltered a bit. “Was I too harsh?”
Marc groaned a bit. “No, sweetheart, not at all. C’mon, let’s find food.”
They talked together through the busy airport. Ironically, their layover was the Chicago O'hare airport. Both of them opted to not sightsee in their home city. They found a sandwich place and sat down.
“He said I’m not getting any younger.” She grumbled. “That I’m not going to find someone to marry me now.”
I would Marc thought. I love you, I love you, I love you Marc felt like it would burst out of his mouth.
“Like I even want to get married again, after that shit show.”
Marc knew this, of course. No part of him held out hope that this would make her love him. He knew his time passed. The morning after they made love, he hadn’t said anything, they never addressed it. His window closed. Now she was scared, traumatized, and lost. His job wasn’t to manipulate her into love or sex, his job was what it had always been, and what he had always failed it. Protect her.
When the waiter asked what they wanted, Marc ordered a BLT
“And for you, ma’am?”
“Same” Rebecca ordered, drinking her water as the waitress walked away. “When did I go from miss to ma’am?”
BLT. She ordered a sandwich with pork.
So? Steven questioned.
She was always observant…
She looked up at him, finding his quizzical look. “What?”
Marc didn’t falter.
Rebecca’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, you’re judging me for eating bacon!”
Marc rolled his eyes. “I’m not judging you! I literally ordered the same fucking thing.”
Rebecca didn’t back down. “Wow. Wow. You have no right to judge me.” She was only half joking, her genuine distress being covered by an overly dramatic call out.
Marc raised his hands defensively, giving a little laugh. “I’m not! I don’t care what you eat!”
With an aggressive point, she defended herself, although Marc got the feeling she was defending the sandwich to herself more than him. “I fell out of habit, that’s all”
Marc couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped him, eyebrow raising. “You fell out of the habit? You didn’t eat pork the first 30 years of your life and you just…. Fell out of the habit?” His face slowly faded into a frown of concern. 
She dodged his eyes. “What does it matter? You always ate pork. Besides, I ate it when we were homeless.”
“Beccs… I had to practically force feed you.”
Rebecca had been trying to trade food with Marc from the soup kitchen. “Give me your side and I’ll give you my hot dog.”
“No way, betukah.”
“You don’t even like corn!”
“You can have my corn, but I’m not eating your hot dog, you need protein. You’re gonna freeze to death when the cold comes.” Right now in the summer, neither Marc or Rebecca could fathom the cold, not with the sweltering heat clinging to them. 
Rebecca scoffed. “Well, I’m hoping to not be homeless this winter, Marc. Besides, I don’t eat pork, you know this.”
Marc rolled his eyes. “What kind of Chicagoin doesn’t eat hotdogs.” his chicago accent making it sound more like hahtdahg.
Holding up a finger for each point, she countered him. “One, jews, for the last 100 years, two, Chicagoins isn’t a word”
Marc got more serious. “I think God will understand.”
She shook her head. “I can’t go to Shabbat, not when we’re trying to avoid everyone. I refuse to get lazy. If I start eating pork, I’m going to start slacking on other things, and I just won’t do that.”
Marc thought for a moment. “I promise you, if you eat this stupid hotdog, which, by the way, probably isn’t even real meat,” he said with a little smile. “I’ll take us to the suburbs to go to Shabbat, away from the prying eyes of the Chicago jewish population. When she still hesitated, but was clearly mulling it over. “Listen, I had an aunt who was diabetic, right? One day I caught her eating while the rest of us were fasting for Yom Kimpur. I asked my dad, and dad said that she can’t fast, God doesn’t want us to do things that harm us. And remember Rachel Rosenbaum, who went to a treatment center for anorexia? She isn’t allowed to fast either, because it might send her back to spiraling. God doesn’t want us to hurt ourselves. I think he’d rather you eat. Especially because we didn’t have lunch. Or breakfast.”
With a small frown, she agreed.
Rebecca wouldn't look at Marc.
Marc, mercifully, filled the silence. “What did he do to you, Rivkah? I noticed… he didn’t like you being Jewi-”
“He wasn’t against me being Jewish!” Rebecca raised her voice. When she noticed people glancing over, she lowered her voice, finally looking at Marc. “His religion was just very important to him, as mine is to me. We found compromises.”
“You had an entirely christian wedding, Rebecca. You didn’t even have the hurrah. It’s not a compromise if you give up everything.”
“Can you drop it? Please?”
“Why are you defending him again?”
“Marc, please drop it!”
Marc was silent.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be”
“No, Marc, I-”
“Honey.” Marc caught her brown eyes again. “Honey… it’s me.” Marc took in how much she changed. Her hair, which she always kept shorter, was long, past her chest. It was so much lighter… And straight. That stood out. She was always proud of her large hair, thick with waves. Her face was still burned, likely would be for a long time, but the doctor assured it would fade away, maybe completely by a few years. What had he done to her? How had he managed to break her down piece by piece, until not only was she physically unrecognizable, but her personality had been stripped away. “Rebecca, you can argue with me. You can disagree with me, call me out. You always have. Don’t stop now.”
“I know.”
When Marc found her exiting the doors of her college, her face lit up brightly. “MARC!” she shouted, running to him.
He hadn’t told her he was back in the city. He hadn’t intended to come, but he had nowhere else to go. Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. He could go anywhere. But nowhere called to him. Only she did. It was early November, 3 months since he left. He had intended to stay away. The deal had been that Rebecca would start school, her full tuition being paid for by scholarships and aid, and get an apartment while Marc would find his way elsewhere. Where, he didn’t know. But somewhere else. It killed him to leave her, but he needed to go, and she needed to stay. She wouldn’t leave her brother, who was still living with her dad. 
“Marc, why are you here! Not that I’m not happy, but I thought you were down south?”
He was. He was busy fighting in less-than-legal fights; he was good at it. He had made a fair amount of money.
“I’m back, because you didn’t keep your promise” Marc frowned at her. “You promised me you would get an apartment for the winter, I know you have enough saved up” 
Holding Marc’s hand, they began walking down the street to Rebecca’s bus stop. “I know, I tried, Marc! No one wants to rent to an 19 year old with no credit, so I’ve been couch surfing.”
Raising an eyebrow, he doubted her. “Couch surfing?”
She sighed. There were no secrets from Marc Spector. “Okay, it’s some couch surfing. Some shelters… and sometimes I stay with my dad”
“Beccs-”
“You don’t get to do that.” Rebecca stopped on the sidewalk, facing him. “You left, Marc. And that’s fine, please know that’s fine, you have to do what you need to, but so do I. And sometimes that means swallowing my pride and staying with my dad until it gets bad again”
Feeling his jaw clench and tick, he tried to not react too strongly. “Until things get bad again?” He asked.
Rebecca sighed, starting to walk again. “Yes Marc. I’ll go there, stay a few days or a few weeks until he hits me again, is that what you want to hear?”
“No! Why would I want to hear that?” He trailed after her. He knew what he had to do. As much as he hated it, as much he hated the idea of being in Chicago or even talking to his dad. But he does it. He asks his dad to cosign a lease for him and Rebecca, a short term, 6 month lease to get her through the winter safely. They split everything, as much as Marc tried to pay for it all. Rebecca had pride, and refused to let Marc pay for everything. As much as she had always let Marc help, she refused to become dependent on him, on anyone, let alone a man. How things had changed with Jack.
It was dark by the time they trudged into Marc’s apartment, the cold March of New York seeping into their bones. “It’s not much, but it’s ours” He gestured to the open studio. It wasn’t as small as their place in Chicago when they were teens. No, that place was tiny, big enough for their full sized mattress, fridge, stove, and a few plastic bins in which they kept their clothes, much of which was shared. Rebecca had preferred t-shirts and loose jeans, men’s clothing a far reach from the clothes she had now. Maybe she grew up, maybe after working professionally she found a liking for nice clothes, but Marc couldn’t help thinking Jack was changing that part of her too.
“It’s nice.” Rebecca smiles genuinely, taking it in. It was a little messy, piles of books and take out boxes, but minimally decorated. She assumed the books weren’t Marc, they must be- She gasped, turning to Marc covering her blushing face. “Oh my god!”
Marc looks panicked. “What?”
Rebecca continued covering her face. “Oh my god, I haven’t met Steven!” Rebecca had been so caught up in being back with Marc, she had forgotten about Steven. Marc had, of course, told her about Steven and Moon Knight. No secrets, not between them.
“Is that all?”
She removed the hands. “He must think I’m so rude!”
Marc laughed. “Trust me, honey, he does not think that. Would you like to meet him?”
She perked up at that. The light in her eyes that he missed so much returning, just a bit. “Can I?”
That alright Steven?
Yes! I would love to
“Hello love! So nice to finally meet you, Marc’s said so much about you, I feel like I already know you.”
Rebecca’s grin widened “It’s nice to meet you too!”
Ever hospitable, Steven showed her the bathroom. “I’m sure you’d like to shower and get settled in, Marc brought some clothes from your apartment but if you need anything, you can use ours, and use whatever is in the shower.”
Rebecca laughed a bit. “You mean Marc’s 3-in-1?”
“Well, actually, I have converted him to actual shampoo, body wash and conditioner.”
“Really.” Rebecca looked impressed. “I thought his hair looked particularly pretty”
Pretty Marc thought She thinks my hair is pretty
Steven grabbed a towel from the closet. “Here, Oh!” He got a second one. “For your hair. We can go to the store tomorrow and get you what you need, alright? After a good night's sleep? And we have a friend who said he’ll be your divorce lawyer-”
Steven
Rebecca’s eyes left Steven and her previously genuine smile changed to something estranged, an attempt at remaining polite. “Thank you Steven, but I don’t need charity. I just need a place to stay while I get on my feet. I have money saved up, and I still have access to Jack’s bank account, and the money I had from my job before he made me quit. And I can easily find a job, there’s always a need for social workers and my license is still active.”
“Oh no! Don’t even worry about that, he will do it pro bono, and we don’t mind buying things while you get on your feet, it’s no problem!” Steven, stop “And don’t even worry about work yet, we need to get you to a doctor first, get through the divorce so you don’t have to deal with him-” Steven, she doesn’t-
Her voice was strained in a distressed smile as she interrupted him. “Steven, that’s very sweet of you, but I can handle it, okay? Thank you for your hospitality, I do appreciate it.” Her eyes pleaded with him to stop. Leave it, please.
Steven nodded, nervously ringing his hands. “Okay, yeah, absolutely, whatever you need” Steven saw her wince. “Or don’t need!”
Rebecca gave him a soft smile, then headed to the shower, carrying her towels. When the door closed, Marc took the body again
What was that? Did I do something wrong?
No, no, she’s just… she doesn’t like depending on people. Never has.
But she’s here, she needs help.
It’s a little different with us. We’ve always just been… We’ve always needed each other. And right now she’s embarrassed.
She shouldn’t be, none of that was her fault
I know, I know Steven. But I also know her, and her pride is wounded. We have to let her handle herself, and just be there when she needs us. She’ll tell us what she needs. 
Bullocks, this is going to be hard.
I know.
Steven was a caretaker, this went against everything in his nature.
The night was cold, colder than shit, record temps in Chicago. They had been spending way too much on heat lately and he and Rebecca were huddled together, comforters covering their heads to try and stay warm. They had spent nearly a year at this point sleeping in each other’s arms, that wasn’t new or weird. But something about this… was different. Maybe it was how they had spent the last several months playing house, essentially functioning as a couple in every sense except sex and the name. Maybe it was the fact he, completely accidentally, had turned around too fast when they were changing, and he seen her in her underwear. Maybe it was the fact Rebecca didn’t cover up, didn’t yell at him or panic. Maybe it was the fact she smiled at him as he stared like the dumb teenager he was.
Maybe it was the fact her ass was pressed right up against him.
But he felt himself getting heard. And he felt her heart pick up as she noticed.
“I’m sorry” He mumbled, scooting back and starting to remove his arms, face blushing an insanely bright red as he intended to get out of the bed.
She grabbed his arm, gluing him to her. “Stay.” she whispered. Hesitantly, she ground her ass back into him, eliciting a whimper from his mouth. 
“Beccs…” With a slow hand, he moved the hand around her stomach up to just under her breasts, unable to cross the line to touch her. After everything, he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. All these years of restraint were hard to break out of.
Her back was to his chest as he spooned her. She took his hand and guided him to her chest; once there, he groped at her, thrilled beyond belief that this was happening. “Marc, I want this.” Becca interlaced her fingers with his. “Do you?”
Marc lightly kissed her neck, taking the opportunity to take in her scent. “I think that’s obvious.” He rutted his thick erection against her.
“I didn’t ask if you were horny, I asked if you want this.” Rebecca sighed out as he dipped his cold hands under the shirt to feel the soft skin of her breast. 
She was everything he imagined, living up to every thought he had while touching himself in the shower. “Beccs, what are you talking about?” Everything he knew about women, which wasn’t much, came from his dad, who had taught him to make sure she wanted it, to not pressure her. And here she was checking on him.
“You’d do anything for me, you always -hmmm- you always have” A hand reached around behind her, feeling his ass in the pajama pants. “But I don’t want you to do this just for me, I need to know you want this.” Neither had ever had sex before. Their close friendship had largely kept other potential offers away in high school, and even with their short absence from each other, neither had interest in anyone else. 
“I want you” Her hand moved his lower, across her stomach, hearing her breath hitched when he reached between her legs. Marc sucked on her neck, moving his lips up to where he had wanted them for years. “I’ve always wanted you, no one else, only ever you”
“Fuck” she breathed out, nails digging in through the thin material of his pants, into the skin she wanted to touch. It was too cold to fully undress, the frigid walk home still felt in their bones. 
His lips were on her cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
Giggling out her reply, she turned her head to meet his. “Sweetheart, your hand in between my legs.”
He still smiled softly at her, adoration shining through, even in the darkness under their blanket. “Can. I. Kiss. You.” He punctuated each word with a kiss on the cheek, fingers beginning to strum on her clit with her guidence, making her buck against him.
Rebecca didn’t beg. Not to her dad, not to teachers, not to anyone, especially not men. But the way she looked at him, desperate and pleading, the words left her lips as she took his hand, bringing him against her entrance. “Marc, please?”
Marc obliged, taking her mouth in his, as his finger entered her.
When she emerged from the shower, she looked more tired than ever.
But something else took his notice. “Rebecca…” She was drying her hair with the towel wrapped around her. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be distracted by her body in the towel; he’d seen her in a lot less. “Your hair is still straight.” He didn’t know much about hair, but he was pretty sure that water made hair curl again. 
She looked at him a bit confused for a moment, then it registered. “Oh. Yeah. I got it chemically relaxed”
Marc’s eyes widened a bit before narrowing in confusion. “Why? You loved your hair?”
Rebecca rolled her eyes, going to her bag of clothes “It’s easier to manage this way.”
Marc wasn’t dropping it, eyes following her. “That’s why you always had it short.”
Rebecca threw the clothes on the ground. “Can you drop it Marc? I’m tired. I don’t know if you remember, but my sleep was interrupted last night.” She glared. “I want to go to bed.” After a pause to look at Marc’s sad face, she softened. “Sorry, can I lay down, please?” She grabbed a throw blanket and went to the couch.
“Aht aht aht!” Marc tried to grab the blanket. “You’re my guest, you’re not sleeping on the couch.”
Putting her hands on her hips, her face reset in determination. “This is your home, I’m not taking yours and Steven’s bed while you sleep on the couch.” Despite the exhaustion clear on her face, he knew she wouldn’t budge.
“We could… I mean it’s a queen… we could share. It wouldn't be the first time.” Visions of that night they spent together nearly 20 years ago, and he quickly added “I can afford heating this time, so we can use separate blankets.” Marc tried to avoid cringing. They never talked about it, not after all this time. 
She watched him, considering. “Okay. But if I get annoying, you have to kick me out. Steven okay with this?”
That’s fine. You can have the body when we go to sleep so she’s not sleeping next to a stranger
“Yeah, he said he won’t take the body at night, it’ll just be me.”
Rebecca nodded, body visibly relaxing. “Okay. You do what you want, I’m going to lay down. You know I can sleep through anything, so don’t feel like you gotta go to bed or anything.” She climbed into bed, and Marc joined her.
“I’m beat, I think an early night would be nice”
Becca eyed him like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t have any fight left. 
She was warm, so warm against his finger. “Marc, I’ve touched myself before, you don’t have to- ah!” She moaned out as Marc added a second finger. His were thicker than hers, that was for sure. Rebecca could feel him move against her thigh; he liked the sounds she made. “Bring your other arm under me, baby” she coaxed, Marc did as he was told, both arms were now wrapped around her, holding her back to him. His fingers felt incredible, but she needed more, more of him. 
“Show me what you need honey, I want to make you feel good.” Marc was not prideful. Rebecca knew Marc had never so much as touched a woman yet, and the fact he didn’t act like he automatically knew everything just endeared him to her even more, if that was even possible. 
“Keep your fingers inside, touch me” She whispered.
“Where?”
“Everywhere, Marc. I want to feel you everywhere” And she did. Nothing existed but him, his hands, his mouth, exploring her both over and under he clothes; in turn, she rewarded him with touching his fully erect cock through his pants, giving him all the pretty little sounds he kept chasing. She felt her orgasm approaching, her breath becoming hitched and strained as the little world they had always existed in felt like it was drawing in on itself, pulling each other ever closer.
“Fuck baby” his fingers picked up speed, the wet squelch of her cunt filling the small apartment. “Are you getting tighter? Is that good or bad?”
She nodded, her poofy hair tickling his face. “It’s good, that means I’m close, don’t stop.”
Marc had no intention of stopping, if he could, he would never stop unless she said so.
When Rebecca came, he could hardly see her face, but god, if the sound she made wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Incredible. He wanted to spend the rest of his life coaxing those sounds of her, if she’d let him. He’d learn her body, learn what she liked, learn what made her sound like that.
When he climbed into the bed next to her, he fought the urge to draw her into his arms as they had done so many times before, time and time again when he stumbled back into her life and she welcomed him with open arms. Always open arms. In the years after she graduated college, she often opened the door of her apartment to find Marc. Sometimes he was beaten and bloody, sometimes wet, sometimes starving. When he had nowhere else to go, he had her. They always shared what they had, always. Rebecca would bandage him up, feed him, and he’d stay with her until that itch came back. Sometimes a few days, sometimes a few months. Sometimes he’d see his dad, sometimes he wouldn’t. Never his mom. Although they slept in each other’s arms everytime until she married Jack, they never had sex again. After half an hour, Marc turned over to look at her, surprised to find her staring at the ceiling, tears falling down to the pillow. 
“Hey, hey sweetheart, what-” He almost finished that sentence.
She snorted out a small laugh. “Oh god, you were not about to ask what’s wrong, were you? After the day we had?” But she smiled at him, knowing he meant well.
Brushing a bit of hair that seemed to uncharacteristically her away from her face, Marc returned the smile. “Force of habit. Anything you want to talk about?” Marc took her hand. If she didn’t want him to touch her, she knew she could pull away. She didn’t.
“It’s stupid.” She sniffled.
“Rivkah” Marc kissed the side of her head, her straight hair unfamiliarly smooth on his lips. “You’ve been through hell, whatever it is, it isn’t stupid.”
She sighed. “I keep thinking about the pregnancy. It hur-” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before starting again. “It hurts, which doesn’t make sense, I don’t even know if I was going to keep it. I don’t have any right to be upset about the miscairrage when I might have had an abortion.”
Marc waited for a moment, making sure she was done before talking. “You always have a right to feel what you feel, Beccs. Even if you had an abortion, you’d have a right to mourn that. You always wanted kids, you just didn’t want one under these circumstances.” He played with her hair with the hand that wasn’t holding hers. “If you’d like, I can talk to my dad and see if he knows any Jewish rituals or traditions for miscaraige? I don’t have to tell him it’s you, unless you want him to pray for you or-”
She turned to face him. “Since when do you talk to your dad?” 
“Rosh Hashanah, actually. Remember when you called?” Marc waited until she nodded. “I ended up uh… well I actually came to Chicago. Made it for the last night. Met him at a synagogue”
Rebecca propped herself up on her right arm. “You went to services? With your dad?” A  small smile was growing on her face.
Marc nodded. “Yeah, we even got dinner after… we talked about things, just a bit.”
Eyed widening, Rebecca tried not to react too heavily. “Oh?”
“Yeah” He laughed out. “It wasn’t much but he… he said sorry. And I forgave him.”
“Marc…” She squeezed his hand. “I’m so proud of you.” Rebecca let go of his hand, to his disappointment, but that disappointment was subdued when she cupped his face to his kiss forehead. She laid back down on the pillow, and Marc did the same; faces so close, he could kiss her. “If you could talk to him, I’d appreciate that, and I’d love for him to pray for me. Thank you.”
“Do you need anything to help get to sleep? I don’t have any melatonin, I have benadryl that might help?”
Her face showed hesitation, as she weighed her answer. “Marc, I know it’s been like, 5 years, other than last night, which was a special circumstance…”
He knew what she was asking. “Always, Beccs.” 
Rebecca grinned at him, planting three kisses in quick succession: forehead, nose, lips. It was so fast he didn’t process what happened until she was wrapped up again in his arms. This was right. This was what should’ve been. What could’ve been if Marc didn’t allow himself to get in the way, how it would’ve been if Marc hadn’t spent his youth as a rolling stone, a rambling man. She wouldn’t have bruised ribs he had to be careful around and her face wouldn’t be red and raw.
“We can stop, Beccs, if you want” Marc assured her, his fingers drenched in her, rubbing his slicked up hand along her thigh, under her sweatpants.
“I don’t want to stop” She turned back to kiss him, gently biting his lip. “Do you?”
Marc returned the kiss, feeling bold enough to quickly suck on her tongue, rewarding him with a moan from her mouth. “No way”
Despite this, Marc didn’t make a move to undress her, he continued rubbing her thigh, kissing her and caressing her body. Rebecca knew he was nervous; worried he’d hurt her, worried, he’d do the wrong thing. He wanted to take care of her the way he always had. She rolled over to face him, happy to see his handsome, youthful face. “Can I help you baby?”
Marc looked at her with awe and wonder, only capable of nodding. He watched as she reached back down her pants, touched herself for a moment as her free hand pulled his length from his own restraint. When her hand withdrew from between her legs, Rebecca’s come coating her hand and fingers, she wrapped that hand around his cock, a gasping Marc having to stop himself from coming right there. “Fuck, f-fuck baby”
Rebecca kissed under his jaw. “See how wet you make me?” Instead of an answer, a loud whine escaped him. He was completely at her mercy, he would do anything she asked, forever and always. She shuffled down her pants just far enough to allow him access, lining Marc up at her entrance. She lifted a leg up over his hip, giving his access. “Marc, honey, you’re shaking… are you okay?”
He nodded vigorously. “I just… I never thought I’d be this close with you.”
“Can I pull down the blanket? I wanna see your face.”
Marc nodded again. The air outside their little world was brisk and cold, but the light allowed them to see each other clearly. She didn’t want to miss a minute of this. She ran her fingers through his hair, reveling in the thick curls. “Can I ride you, baby? Would that be alright?”
Marc wondered if he was dead. She wanted to ride him? Not only did she want him, but she wanted to take care of him. “Please?” He pathetically whimpered out, all his bravado was gone. He existed completely and wholly for her. 
Rebecca shucked off her pants, laying Marc on his back as she straddled him. He was so beautiful, the light of the moon bathing him, illuminating his features; he looked like he was born under it, belonged to it, was destined for it. Rebecca continued kissing him, every moonlit feature she could find. “Are you sure honey?” When Marc again begged for her, she lowered herself onto him.
A choked sob escaped Marc’s pretty little mouth as he felt her swallow him, wet and smooth and soft. He opened his eyes to see her wincing. Marc reached up to touch her face. “You alright, Beccs? I don’t want to hurt you”
When she looked down at him, she was smiling, adoration lighting her eyes, love for the man under her. “Oh sweetheart, I’m perfect.” When she sank down, feeling him buried fully in her sheath, they moaned in unison. Marc was her first, but she was no stranger to penetration and began to move on him quickly. They remained chest to chest, two layers of all-too thick clothing separating them. Their mouth’s never left each other, their hands exploring their bodies that seemed so new, yet so familiar. They knew each other, seen each other in swimsuits and underwear, bodies familiar and comfortable to their touch. Years of close friendship, codependency, and blurred lines of friendship and attraction, all came together. There was no doubt in either of their minds in this moment. It was love. Maybe it was always love, that something beautiful bloomed the moment he opened his door to find her with that terrible food. They were interconnected by their souls for the better half of their lives, it was only fitting they were connected by their bodies. 
Rebecca had always believed that virginity was a silly thing to get hung up on, but she wouldn’t have had this any other way. There was no one she trusted more, no one she loved more than Marc Elias Spector. There was no one she would rather this be with. He was perfectly deep inside her, hitting that perfect spot. He was perfect. He was everything. She knew Marc was not done wandering, that when the lease was up and he knew she would be safe and warm, he would leave. There wasn’t any idea in her head that this meant they were together, that this was forever. No, that wasn’t who Marc Spector was. He had miles to before he sleeps, and miles to go before he sleeps… but this, this would always be them. One of several firsts they would only have with each other.
Marc gazed up at her, unbelieving that she had graced him like this, giving herself to him, trusting him… He couldn’t picture a better moment. Marc was so entranced, so enamored by the look of her, the feeling of her lips lavaciously kissing him as her wet cunt took him, he fooled himself into thinking this was forever, they were forever. He would never leave, he could never leave her, not after this. Not as long as she’d have him. Rebecca was everything, forever. Everything. His hands roamed her, claiming her, mine, mine, mine. He would never let anyone touch her if she gave herself to him. If she wanted, their bodies would be entwined like this the rest of their lives. Two beings, completely united as one. He would give up traveling, living in this god forsaken city, for her.
“Beccs, honey, I’m not gonna last.” His hips involuntarily bucked up to meet her.
“It’s okay baby.” Rebecca kissed him gently, lightly tugging on his hair. “I don’t want you too, come when you’re ready.”
Marc grabbed her hips, his touch still soft, he moved her along him.
This shot a spark through Rebecca, bringing her closer. “Fuck, just like that baby, take what you need, fucking take it.” 
“Want you to come again, Becca. Tell me what you need, please, I’ll do whatever you need.”
“Just keep doing that, Marc” Rebecca slipped a hand between their bodies, touching herself. She spread her fingers along her lips, feeling him enter her and the wetness between them. She massaged her clit with her left hand, her right hand on Marc’s face.
“Fuck, say my name again, please” He begged.
“Marc” A kiss on the side of his head. “Marc” otherside. “Marc” Neck. “Marc” His lips. She chanted his name into his mouth as she kissed him, until it melded into a moan, swallowing the sounds of the orgasm her tightening cunt drew from him. Years latter, both would reflect on this, the stupidity of two teenagers having unprotected sex and coming inside. Neither had been taught about female birth control or plan B, and barely knew what a condom was. But right then, it felt right, they felt like the entire universe existed only in that moment, in that tiny, shitty studio, and between their two bodies.
Rebecca turned her back to him, and Marc wrapped his arm around her the way he had done for 2 decades, the way he had last night while she cried herself to sleep. She settled right in, sighing in contentment. This is how it should have always been.
Right before he fell asleep, finally able to relax, knowing she was safe, he heard her.
“Marc… Do you ever think about that night?”
“All the time, Beccs. All the time.”
When he was sure she was asleep, Marc closed his eyes. It wasn’t often he prayed, but this was a special occasion. She was safe. She was here, with him, safe. With a soft whisper, he said the words he remembered his dad praying after the safe return from a travel. 
“Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, ha-gomel t’chayavim tovim she-g’malani kol tuv.”
(Blessed are You, Lord our God, ruler of the world, who rewards the undeserving with goodness, and who has rewarded me with goodness.)
Rebecca was his goodness, she always had been, and he was so blessed.
*********
THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!
I hope this chapter is happier than the last one. I hope you liked the smut scene; I wanted it to be really sweet.
Special shout out to @apollo-enthusiast, it was their idea to use the prayer at the end.
I am not Jewish, I am a hopeful convert. If I said anything incorrect or offensive, please let me know!
Reblogs are the only real way to share my work, and comments mean the entire world to me.
Love y'all!
Spotify playlist: if you have song ideas, comment or send in my asks!
@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories @tippycakes26
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rebelrayne · 1 year
Note
Can you give recommendations on Suresh fanfiction that either you or someone else has written?
Hi anon! I’m going to be 100% honest here - I’m not the best about S5 lol I can talk and rec S4 all day, but I really went through the fics on AO3 and these are the ones I recommend! Under the cut 😊
chaptered
jaded by @mrsbsmooth rated E
no other love by @luckyqueenreign rated G
somebody that i used to know by @ellegreenwxy rated E
one shots
and my waves meet your shore ever and evermore by @ellegreenwxy rated M
baby (one more time) by @i-boop-you rated E
either way we’re both suffering by @wildberryjams rated E
i just can’t lose you again by @perfectlysunny02 rated M
i miss you more than life by @perfectlysunny02 rated M
midnight rain by @i-boop-you rated T
that’s the thing about illicit affairs by @ellegreenwxy rated E
the answer was simple by @willkimurashat no rating
tonight i wanna get nasty by @mergrl rated E
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aflame4goinghome · 1 month
Text
Illicit Affairs
d.r.w x reader
chapter ii
Tumblr media
Word Count: 7.2k
Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!! swearing, flirting, power dynamic; SMUT: fingering, touching, sexually implicit language, dirty talk, oral sex (m. receiving), unprotected sex, slight choking, sir kink, spanking, a little bit of degradation, praise kink, hint of dom/sub dynamic
A/N: This story is in collaboration with my wonderful, talented friends @gretavanstink & @childinthegardenn!! Go give them a follow and give @gretavanstink’s fics some love! Thanks for sticking with us! We’re so glad you like the story so far :) Enjoy!
Listen to the official playlist on Spotify here!
chapter i
· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·
As you stand in the hall waiting for the elevator to open, you pull your phone out and see another text from Rose.
From: Rose🌹
HELLOOOOO? Are you alive?
The doors slide open and you step inside, pressing the button for the third floor and leaning back against the wall as you type a response to her.
To: Rose🌹
He made me stay back after everyone else left. CHECKED THE CLASSLIST LIKE HE DIDN’T KNOW MY NAME and told me to “hang back for a sec”
You press send and shove your phone back in your pocket as the elevator doors slide open. Stepping out, you turn your head to look down both sides of the hall and see a sign that points toward offices 311 to 321. You follow the sign, stopping in front of his closed door, and glance around for somewhere to sit. There’s an uncomfortable-looking bench tucked into an alcove across from his office and nothing else. Better than the floor, you think as you take a seat, plopping your bag down next to you. Your phone buzzes with another text from Rose as you notice the faux stained glass privacy shade Daniel has on his office window.
From: Rose🌹
Oh, he’s evil. What are you gonna do?
To: Rose🌹
I DON’T KNOW. He told me we should talk privately so now I’m just sitting here outside of his office waiting for him to get back from a meeting with another prof
From: Rose🌹
You’re insane, I love you. Keep me updated, I’m heading into another class🩷
To: Rose🌹
Love you too, I will🩵
You slip your phone into your back pocket and cross your legs, unsure of how long he is going to keep you waiting. Ten minutes pass with no sign of him and you let out a sigh, rifling through your bag and pulling out Dante's La Vita Nuova. You flip to your current page and set your bookmark on your leg, letting your back rest against the wall as you skim the page.
After about twenty minutes, you hear the clack of dress shoes on tile from around the corner and your stomach flips, recognizing the sound from class as Daniel paced around the room. You fix your posture and pretend to continue reading even though your brain is too scattered to absorb anything. 
Daniel rounds the corner and sees you waiting, a smug grin forming on his lips as he approaches you. Stopping in front of you, he plucks your book from your hands and glances at it before looking down at you and winking. He leans down and lifts your bookmark off your thigh, slipping it between the pages and placing the book back in your hands. Your eyes follow his every move, focusing on his hands, as he unlocks his office and steps inside, leaving the door open. You slip your book back into your bag and stand, slinging it over your shoulder as you step into the doorway.
 As you look in, you notice a black leather loveseat tucked between two bookshelves against the wall. The bookshelves are filled with different eras; the Italian Renaissance, the liberation of France, and the Industrial Revolution. Your eyes fall on a copy of Voltaire’s Alzire and a smile forms on your lips. The top shelf boasts a scale model of the Duomo di Siena and a photo of himself in his early twenties during what you assume was a study abroad program. Daniel clears his throat, snapping you back to reality, and you turn his way. 
“Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there?” He asks, leaning forward on his desk. His eyes travel down your body before flicking back up to meet your gaze. “Because I’m fine either way.”
You feel your cheeks redden and you step inside, pushing the door closed behind you. You lower yourself into the seat across from his desk and set your bag at your feet. You’re unsure what to say so you sit silently, returning his stare as he looks right through you.
“Well this is certainly a different view than I had the other night,” he finally says, leaning back in his chair. You fight the urge to look at the floor, keeping your eyes trained on him as he stands and moves around his desk to your side. He leans against it and folds his arms across his chest, watching your face for a reaction. 
“Daniel…” You say, your voice barely a whisper. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “We have to stop, right?”
Daniel shrugs his shoulders and lowers his arms, bracing himself on the edge of the desk and crossing his ankles. Your eyes leave his face and focus on how his fingers wrap around the edge of the wood, the way his forearms flex and his veins bulge.
“If that’s what you want,” he says, his tone bordering on indifference. A smirk forms on his lips as he notices you staring at his arms again and he pushes off the desk. He walks around your seat and places his hands on the back, leaning down to speak in your ear. “I don’t think that’s what you want though, sweetheart.”
Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him brush your hair to one shoulder, his lips ghosting over your neck as he says, “No. I think you like this.”
You push yourself out of your seat and walk to the window that overlooks the quad, the closeness making your head spin. After taking a moment to collect yourself, you turn back to face him again, leaning back against the windowsill. 
“I think you like it,” you say, bringing your eyes up to meet his as he crosses his arms, watching you.
“You’re right,” Daniel says, closing the distance between you. He places his hands on the windowsill, trapping you between his arms, and looks down at you. “But you didn’t deny liking it.”
He captures your lips with his, one hand moving to the small of your back to pull your body against his. You relent, returning the kiss, as if you were putty in his hands. You didn’t deny it because you couldn’t. Something about him made you feel like a live wire, dangerous. You feel his tongue run across your lips and you part them, letting him in. He breaks the kiss and places more along your jaw, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt and resting on your waist. 
“It’s wrong isn’t it?” You ask breathlessly as he continues down your neck. He lifts his head and looks into your eyes but doesn’t let go of you. You can feel your arousal soaking through your panties as he holds you tight to him.
“Says who?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “We’re both adults.”
Daniel lets his hand wander down the outside of your thigh and then between your legs, pausing there and smirking. 
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this,” he says quietly, his hand drifting up to the button of your jeans.
“I do, but,” you sigh and place a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. “I’m your student.”
Daniel takes his hand off of you and backs up, giving you space to breathe. You return to the seat across from his desk and cross your legs, looking at your hands and picking at your thumb absentmindedly as you think. He takes your place, leaning against the windowsill, and waits patiently for you to continue.
“Like, morally, this is wrong,” you say finally, turning your gaze towards him. “And if we get caught it’ll be a world of trouble for both of us.”
“Guess we can’t get caught then,” he says, sitting back down. He leans forward, resting his arms on the desk. “Just think about it, okay?”
“Okay,” you say quietly, nodding. You stand and slip on your backpack and Daniel stands as well, walking you to the door. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and looks down at you, a reassuring smile on his face.
“Don’t think too hard,” he says, twisting the knob and opening the door.
“I’ll let you know by the end of the week,” you say, smiling softly and stepping into the hallway.
You make your way back to the elevator and press the down button, standing back and waiting for the doors to open. When they slide apart, you step inside, press the button for the ground floor, and lean back against the wall, letting it hold your weight up as you take a few deep breaths. The doors open and you walk through the lobby and out into the afternoon sun.
You pop your earbuds in and start your walk home, your music picking up where it had stopped earlier. Fitting, you think, blowing a short laugh through your nose, as Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash flows into your ears. You hum along to the song, your mind replaying what just happened as you wander off campus. 
You buzz yourself into your building and jog a little to catch the elevator that another resident held open for you. When you get into your apartment, you toss your bag into the chair at your desk and flop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. You fold your hands on your stomach and close your eyes, realizing how exhausted you are as you start to drift off.
Your eyes open at the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by Rose’s bedroom door closing, and you check the time on your phone, 4:57 pm. You let out a deep sigh and sit up, knowing you should at least try to read the syllabi for your classes tomorrow. 
You walk to your desk and pull the chair out, moving your bag to the floor next to you as you sit down and slide your laptop out of its case. As you type your password in, Rose knocks on your open door and leans on the doorframe, peeking in at you.
“So,” she begins, drawing out the word. “What happened?”
Reading can wait, you think as you turn your chair to face her, pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing heavily. 
“He kissed me in his office,” you say, feeling your stomach flip as you say it. “Against the window that looks over the quad.”
Rose’s eyes widen and she steps into your room, sitting on your bed cross-legged. She rests her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands as she waits for you to continue.
“And all I could think was that I wanted him to keep going,” you add, standing and joining her on your bed. You rest your back on the wall and let your head fall back. “What am I gonna do?”
“What do you want to do?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“I want to crawl in a hole and come out when the semester is over,” you say, laughing and shaking your head.
“Well that’s not really an option, babe,” she says. You shoot her a look and roll your eyes, drawing a giggle out of her.
“What if I drop the class?” you ask, rubbing your temples. “Then I wouldn’t have to see him. I could just forget the whole thing.”
“Could you really just forget it all though?” Rose challenges, tilting her head to the side. “I mean…he’s really hot, Y/N.”
“I know, Rose,” you say. “I want him. But I’m his student.”
“Who cares,” she says, lengthening the second word. “It’s not like you have to fall in love. Just have good, hot sex.”
You burst into a fit of laughter at the idea, pushing Rose’s shoulder, and fall to lay on your side.
“Alright,” you relent. “Maybe you have a point.”
“What’s the harm?” She adds, shrugging her shoulders. You roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling, resting your hands on your stomach. Focusing on the rise and fall of your stomach with your breath, you let your eyes fall closed and think quietly for a few moments.
“Just good, hot sex,” you repeat, opening your eyes and turning your head to look up at your best friend. “I told him I’d let him know by Friday.”
“See, you have time to think about it,” she says, patting your leg reassuringly. “Was he really that good?”
You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk, feeling your cheeks turn pink as you replay the night in the bar in your head.
“Best I’ve ever had,” you say, tossing your head back. “Like…unforgettable.”
“I could just forget the whole thing,” Rose teases, doing her best impression of you. You snap your head back up and slap her arm.
“Shut up,” you giggle. “Get out. I have some things to think about.”
“Oh you mean Dr. Wagner,” she says as she stands, running out of your reach before you smack her again. “I’ll leave you to it.”
She winks and walks out of your room, closing your door behind her and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sigh and sit up, your mind reeling at the way this semester was off to a start you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest dreams. Hopping off your bed, you grab your laptop and crawl under your covers. You give a quick skim over your syllabus for the rest of your classes, trying your hardest to focus as you add some important dates to your planner.
After an hour, your focus is shot and you decide to grab a quick shower, as you always do your best thinking in the warm steam. You strip out of your clothes for the day, deposit them in your laundry basket, and stand looking at yourself in your full-length mirror. Your hand finds the fading purple mark at your collarbone and your cheeks flush as you imagine Daniel’s lips on your skin. You turn your back to the mirror and look over your shoulder, seeing the bruises on your thighs and thinking of the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh. 
You let out a shaky breath and slip your robe on before making your way to the bathroom. Shrugging the robe off, you start the shower to let it warm up before you step in. You sigh as the hot water hits your muscles, the tension leaving your body and flowing down the drain with the water. Your mind wanders back to Daniel’s office as you wash your hair and a chill runs down your spine, bringing goosebumps to your arms and legs.
I think you like this, you hear him say in your mind. Tell me you don’t want this.
You rinse out your hair and lean against the wall, your hand reaching down to massage your clit. A sigh falls from your lips as you set a quick pace of circles with your fingers. You imagine Daniel’s fingers working you, his strong hands bringing you closer and closer to release. The hot water beats at your skin as you let your head fall back against the tiles, moaning softly as you feel the familiar tingle in your abdomen. 
Come on, sweetheart, give it to me, his voice echoes in your mind, sending you tumbling over the edge as your thighs quiver. You squeeze your eyes closed, his name tumbling from your lips as you ride out your orgasm. Once you’ve collected yourself, you finish your shower and slip your robe back on, wandering back to your room and slipping into your pajamas. 
You crawl into bed and close your eyes, making a pros and cons list in your head as you try to find sleep. Pros: hot guy, hot sex. Cons: getting caught, trying to focus in class, morality.
You scoff at the last one. Can you really say you have morality about this when the only thing you wanted in his office was for him to keep going, right there against the window? 
What’s the harm, you hear Rose say. Maybe she’s right, what harm could a little fun do?
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You wake up to your alarm early Friday morning and immediately feel a tight knot in the pit of your stomach. You have to face Daniel again today and finally tell him your answer. You feel slightly giddy over the prospect of getting him alone again, though you do hope that he isn’t going to treat you any differently in class now. You’ll find out soon enough.
The first half of your morning goes by in the blink of an eye. Next thing you know, you’re on your way to the other side of campus for his class. Despite the nervous energy, you still managed to get your assigned reading done. You’re nothing if not committed to academic success, regardless of the situation with Daniel. 
Surprisingly, you rather enjoyed the assignment. Since you were taking the course as a core requirement and not as part of your major, you’d never studied art history before. The level of analysis behind different works of art and how they reflect the social and political climate at the time was fascinating to you. You were surprised by how it ended up connecting well with what you’ve learned in your philosophy classes before about politics, so the subject ended up coming rather easily to you.
You walk into the building and open the door to the lecture hall, thankfully not running late this time around. You have about five minutes to spare before the class begins, giving you a better choice of where to sit. You stand there at the top of the stairs for a moment, looking around for a good place to sit, not wanting to be too close or too far from the front. Finally, you decide to take a seat in the middle somewhere, hoping you might possibly be able to blend in with the rest of the crowd. 
As you bend over in your seat and take your notebook out of your bag, you start to hear the familiar sound of Daniel’s shoes descending the stairs. Here we go, you think, trying to prepare for the awkward class that’s ahead of you. You place your notebook on the small pull-out desk attached to your chair, then decide to suck it up and look up toward the front of the classroom.
You watch as he sits down at the desk and pulls his laptop out of his leather bag. He doesn’t look up once, focusing on connecting his computer to the projector screen and pulling up his presentation for the lecture. After the presentation pops up on the screen, he pushes his chair back and stands up, finally catching your gaze.
One corner of his mouth turns upward into a half-smirk as his eyes meet yours. He goes to push the rolled sleeves of his black button-down up a bit further on his arms, causing your eyes to drift downward. His biceps peak out of the bottom of his sleeve and you can see the muscles flex slightly as he adjusts the sleeves. You bite your lip almost out of instinct, leaning your arm on the desk and resting your chin on your hand. 
Figuring out that you’ve definitely been staring for too long, you look back up to see a full-on smirk across his face. When your eyes lock again, he shoots over a subtle wink before clearing his throat and getting on with the start of class. There’s a lot of chatter going on throughout the room, making it difficult for him to get their attention at first.
“Okay, everyone, settle down,” he says, projecting his voice loud enough to quiet down the room. “Let’s jump right into this first chapter, shall we?”
Daniel uses the remote in his hand to transition to the next slide of the presentation, which shows the first painting from the reading. He starts pacing around the room, walking over to stand on the first step of the stairs as he asks the class for their initial thoughts.
You take the opportunity to look at him closer, thanks to this new proximity. He paired his black shirt with dark gray slacks and his usual black shoes. Your eyes fall on the gold chain around his neck, wondering how much it might have cost, considering how high-quality it looks. He really knew how to put an outfit together, looking expensive yet casual all at the same time– yet another thing that made him annoyingly attractive. You’re still lost in thought when you suddenly hear your name being called, snapping you back into reality.
“Y/N? Are you still with us?” Daniel asks, standing with his arms crossed as he raises an eyebrow at you. You sit up straight in your sight, clearing your throat before answering.
“Oh, um, yes. I’m sorry,” you say, which comes across as almost a mumble.
“I was asking you about what you thought about Liberty Leading The People,” he says, leaning back against the side of the chair on the aisle across from you. “From last night’s reading, assuming that you’ve completed it.” His voice is very matter-of-fact, almost as though he’s catching you in a lie. You won’t give him the satisfaction of embarrassing you in front of the class, that’s for sure. 
“I did do the reading, professor,” you answer, your tone having a bit of a bite to it unintentionally as a result of your frustration. “And I thought that the painting was a perfect representation of the heart of the French Revolution. They united as one and fought together to take down their oppressive government.” The smug look on his face immediately disappears as you continue sharing your analysis with the class.
“Liberté, égalité, fraternité, or liberty, equality, fraternity– the phrase that would end up defining the entire future of the French Republic. It represents the foundation of democracy in France and how it united the entire country, despite their differences. The painting symbolizes these founding ideas of democracy and freedom, which we know is still a prevalent theme in France today.”
You finish speaking, looking up at him as you cross your arms over yourself in your seat, waiting for his response. He wanted to catch you unprepared, which he has failed to do. A small smirk starts to appear on his face as he turns around and walks back toward the front of the classroom, pressing the button on the remote to switch to the next slide.
“Very good analysis, Miss Y/L/N. Outstanding, actually,” he says after turning around to face the class. If he’s feeling embarrassed, then he certainly isn’t showing it, but you’re glad to have been able to put him in his place. He uses the small laser pointer on the remote to point to the short bulleted list on the slide as he starts his lecture on the painting.
You hate how much this act of academic praise satisfied you, especially coming from him. You think to yourself that you’d do anything to have it happen again— to be the one that he compliments in front of the entire class. Despite whatever your relationship with Daniel may be, the desire for your knowledge and thoughts to be appreciated and acknowledged by him was intense. You wanted to please him, in more ways than one.
The rest of the class goes smoothly, thankfully. He manages to leave you alone, choosing to call on different students as you discuss other Romanticism paintings from the reading assignment. His eyes drifted to you every once in a while, but you could tell he was pulling his gaze away almost immediately. You knew that he was trying to give you space, which you appreciated. Finally, he dismisses the class and everyone starts to pack up and leave the hall. You’re putting your things back in your bag as you hear him say your name.
“Y/N,” he says, looking up at you from behind his laptop while sitting at his desk. “Good job today.” 
You smile at him, picking up your bag and putting it on your back. “Thanks,” you say, approaching his desk at the front of the classroom. Most of the students have dispersed by now, besides a few stragglers. “Do you have time to talk, professor?” you continue, biting your lip afterward as you await his answer. You tried to sound as sweet as possible, knowing that it was unlikely for him to say no. 
He smirks, closing his laptop and slipping it into his bag. “Sure, Y/N,” he says, standing up and putting his bag on his shoulder. “Let’s go up to my office, yeah?” He then walks around the desk and begins up the stairs, with you following shortly after him.
As you walk behind him toward the elevator down the hall, you can’t help but notice how much confidence seems to pour out of him as he walks. It was like he owned the place, walking around as though it was second nature to him. You hate to admit how attractive it was, but it was undeniable.
He presses the “up” button for the elevator and you both stand there silently for a moment as you wait for it to arrive. Standing on his left with still a couple of feet between you, you turn your head to look at him. As his head turns to return your gaze, the elevator dings and the doors open.
He walks in first, pressing the button for the third floor and then stepping back as you both watch the doors close in front of you. When the elevator begins to rise, you’re taken aback by his lips crashing onto yours. His hands are planted firmly on your hips as he turns you slightly, putting your back against the wall of the elevator. Your hands begin to tangle in his hair as you feel his tongue collide with yours, making you whine quietly into his mouth. 
His lips turn upward into a smirk against yours at the sound of your pathetic noises, but you’re quickly taken out of it as you hear the elevator ding and immediately stop on the second floor. Shit. 
You scramble to get untangled from him, stepping a few feet away to the other side of the elevator. The doors begin to open and a professor steps in, seemingly going up to the third floor as well. The professor stands between the two of you as the doors begin to shut.
“Ah, Dr. Wagner!” he says, turning toward Daniel on his left. “Good seeing you! How’re your courses faring so far?” Daniel is calm and composed as he turns to his colleague with a grin and answers him. 
“Professor Thomson, it’s great to see you. It’s all going well, but it’s still early,” he jokes, making the professor let out a fit of loud laughter. You, on the other hand, are a total mess. The back of your hair has a slight bump from it being slammed against the wall and your cheeks have turned a deep shade of pink. You just try to avoid the interaction altogether and stare straight ahead until the elevator dings once more and the doors open to the third floor. 
The professor steps out first, bidding Daniel a farewell before turning off to the left corridor. Daniel walks out next, turning right and heading toward his office. You can’t help but feel a bit of deja vu as you follow him to his office. This time, however, you were feeling much more confident. You want to show him that you weren’t just a timid, innocent student like he might think you are.
He holds the door open for you and allows you to walk in past him before shutting the door behind you and locking it. You turn on your heels to face him and see his eyes boring through you– you suppose your moment in the elevator affected him more than he let on. Daniel takes a step toward you, leaving only less than a foot of space between you as his eyes study you. The feeling of him looking at you like that almost takes over you and before you even know you’re doing it, you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him close to you, connecting your lips with his.
He groans into your mouth as your hands find their place within his curls and you push his back against the office door. His arms wrap around your waist and his hips connect with yours, bringing his hard, long cock to your immediate attention. Your hands leave his hair and travel down his chest, finally planting on his hips as you slowly lower yourself onto your knees– a position that both you and him were already familiar with.
You look at him through your eyelashes as your hands start to fiddle with his belt, pulling the end through the loop and unclasping it. “Fuck, I could get used to this,” he mutters, reaching a hand down to push some of your hair out of your face. You continue, pulling down his zipper and unbuttoning the top button of his slacks. He helps you the rest of the way, pulling down his pants and briefs just enough for you to be able to pull his cock out of its confines and take it in your hand.
You pump your hand on it a few times before lowering your mouth onto him, licking a small stripe on his tip. He groans, throwing his head back onto the door and using his hand to hold your hair back out of your face. Thoroughly enjoying the effect you seemed to have on him, you decide to take him completely into your mouth until your nose connects with the smooth material of his shirt resting on his stomach, taking him completely by surprise. 
“Oh my– fuck!” Daniel mumbles, struggling to even get any words out. His hips thrust into your mouth roughly at the sensation of filling your mouth completely, hitting the back of your throat. You begin to move, taking the lead as you retract your mouth slowly and then push him back down your throat. 
The sounds coming out of his mouth as you set a steady pace is enough to get you close to release just by hearing it. You swirl your tongue around his tip and then take him completely into the back of your throat again, gagging around him slightly. As you start to pick up your pace, his hands are pulling your hair back, yanking you off of him. He tucks himself back into his boxer briefs quickly, then brings you up on your feet and his hands cup your cheeks, keeping your attention on him.
“If you keep doing all that, this is gonna end before we even get started, baby…” he says sternly, starting to place hot, wet kisses along your jawline and then down the side of your neck as he pushes you back further into the room. The backs of your legs hit his desk and your hands grip the edge, bracing yourself. “We can’t have that, can we?” 
Daniel continues his attack on your neck, beginning to suck on a sweet spot on your bare collarbone. The feelings are taking over all of your senses, overwhelming you so much that all you can muster up is an enthusiastic nod. He pulls his lips off of you, straightening his back as he towers over you, placing his hand on the back of your neck firmly.
“Words, sweetheart,” he says, scolding you. “You’re a big girl. Act like one.” Your eyes widen at his words, though you have to admit that it has you completely dripping wet.
“No, sir. We can’t,” you answer. His lips turn upward into a slight smirk as his hand moves from behind your neck toward the front. His thumb strokes your neck softly before his hand tightens a bit. “Good girl.”
His lips connect with yours once more and you moan into his mouth as his hand tightens a bit more around your throat. His other hand moves up your side to cup your breast, snug inside your tight ribbed tank top. He makes quick work of that, reaching into your shirt and squeezing your breast, then rolling your nipple in his fingers. You whine at the sensation, making him smirk against your lips. 
“Yeah, you like that?” he asks, pulling his face back a bit, rubbing his nose against yours as his fingers pinch your nipple again, eliciting another moan from you. “Yes, sir, feels so so good,” you whine, as he places a few soft kisses along your jaw.
Suddenly, he spins you around and pulls you against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “I’ve thought about doing this again ever since you walked out of that bathroom,” he mumbles, kissing your neck roughly. His hips buck into your ass as you brace your palms against the wooden desk to keep your legs from crumbling beneath you. “Fuck, so have I,” you utter, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 
One of his hands moves from your waist and pushes your back down so that you’re bent over the front of his desk. He lowers his mouth to your ear briefly and whispers, “I’m not gonna be gentle… okay, sweetheart?” You let out a soft moan as his hips press into your ass and you feel his hot breath against your ear. “I don’t want you to be gentle,” you say. He smiles as he places a soft kiss on the shell of your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You whine at the sudden loss of his body against yours as he backs away from you. But that feeling soon changes as you feel his hands back on your waist and his fingers dip into the waistline of your leggings. He bends down and pulls them down over your ass, letting them sit at your ankles. You hear him groan and curse to himself when he sees that you decided to forgo any underwear, since you typically liked to avoid unflattering underwear lines when wearing tight pants like leggings. 
His large hands grip your ass firmly, pulling your cheeks apart as he takes in the view. He starts gliding his fingers through your wetness with one hand as the other comes down and smacks your ass, hard. You bite your lip to stifle the loud moan that almost escapes your mouth, being mindful of the need to keep the noise down considering the location. He places a kiss on the spot on your asscheek, soothing the stinging sensation. 
He stands up and pulls his briefs back down, taking his cock in his hands and pumping it a few times before towering behind you once again. He brings his mouth back down to your ear as his hips buck into yours and you can feel his painfully hard cock against your ass behind you. “You asked for it.”
Daniel lines himself up with you and pushes himself into you fully. You can feel yourself stretch around him, the sting of it feeling almost welcoming. He grips your waist in one hand as the other holds firm against the small of your back, keeping you still on the desk as he sets a relentless pace inside of you. 
The movement of his hips is quick and harsh, the only sound in the room being the sound of his hips smacking against your ass, loud and wet. He’s hitting your cervix repeatedly, and you start to have no control over the noises you make. His hips slam hard into you, causing you to curse loudly. His hand moves from the small of your back to the back of your neck and pushes your head down, making you have to turn it sideways with your cheek flush against the wood. His hand then slides over to cover your mouth, pushing two of his fingers past your lips.
“As much as I love those sweet sounds, you gotta keep it down, baby…” he says as he slams his hips into you again. You groan around his fingers and catch his eye from behind you, seeing a smug smirk across his face. You suck on his fingers as he continues his quick pace inside you and your walls flutter against him, eliciting a moan from him as well. “Goddamn, you are so fucking tight,” he groans, removing his hand from your mouth and moving it to grip your hair tightly, pulling you up from the desk as he slides out of you. 
He turns you around and captures your lips for a moment before pulling away. You watch as he quickly rids himself of his pants and boxers entirely, dropping them on the floor and then stepping out of them. He lowers himself to remove your pants from around your ankles then attaches his lips to yours again. His hands grasp your ass and lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you over to the far left wall of the office, directly in front of the window. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck as his lips stay attached to yours and he places your back against the wall.
You have half a mind to get self-conscious about the proximity to the window but you’re too intoxicated by his touch to care. With your back now flush with the wall, he lifts you up for a moment then pushes himself back inside of you and picks back up on his relentless pace. 
His hands grip your ass so tight that you’re sure it’ll leave a mark come tomorrow. You’re genuinely surprised by the strength he must have to be able to hold you up as he fucks into you, which makes your head spin. His lips leave yours and work their way down your neck. When they reach your chest, he halts his hips to bring one of his hands up to pull your breasts from your shirt and bra, allowing them to spill out of the top of your tank top and giving him full access.
“Fuck, what are you doing to me…” he mutters, holding onto you tightly as he starts pounding into you again even harsher. His lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking and biting on your skin and completely taking you over the edge. You can feel yourself getting close as his hips slam up into you, his tip hitting your sweet spot over and over again from this new angle. He can feel you tightening around him, making him groan against your skin. 
“Come on, baby. Make a mess all over my cock, I’m right there,” he urges, attaching his lips to yours again as one of his hands moves from your ass and slips between you, starting to rub quick, rough circles against your clit. It sends you over the edge and Daniel swallows your moan in his mouth as his tongue collides with yours. 
He fucks you through it, his pace never slowing as he reaches his own climax shortly after you. He moans against your tongue as you feel his release coat your walls. His hips start to slow, fucking his release into you before lowering your legs to the ground and pulling out, allowing you to stand. Your knees buckle as you get your bearings, but you quickly recover and wrap your arms around his waist pulling him in for a short, soft kiss.
“I guess I got my answer then, huh?” he jests, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he looks down at you with a smug smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder softly, walking past him to pick up your leggings, then sliding them back on. He follows, pulling his briefs up over his hips and then picking his pants up off the floor. As he pulls his pants on and starts to fasten his belt, you decide to speak first.
“I want to do this with you. I do. But we have to set some ground rules,” you say, leaning against his desk and looking up at him. He raises his eyebrows at you as he tucks his shirt back into his pants and then walks toward you.
“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asks, cupping your cheek with his hand and rubbing his thumb softly against your skin. You almost melt into his touch, but you want to stand your ground before you get too soft on him.
“Well,” you start, “First of all, this should be no strings attached– purely physical. I’m not gonna be your girlfriend.” He chuckles to himself before crossing his arms and leaning against the chair next to him. “Who said I wanted you to be my girlfriend?”
“Shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. He laughs again, then answers, “Okay, okay. No strings attached. Shouldn’t be a problem. What else?”
“No telling anyone, besides people who already know. My best friend knew about you immediately after we left the bar last weekend, so it’s too late now,” you continue. He hums and nods his head. “Mine too. Can’t hide shit from Sam even if I tried.”
“Okay, so we keep it a secret. No one else has to know,” you assert. He stands up and puts his arms on either side of you, leaning onto the desk behind you. 
“Okay. One more thing,” he says, towering over you. “No falling in love.” You take a deep breath just at the thought of it– falling in love. Yeah, right. As you look up to meet his gaze, you smile softly and nod. “No falling in love.” 
After a few more minutes of sharing kisses and continuously attempting to say goodbye, you finally peel yourself away from Daniel and leave his office, heading out of the building and walking in the direction of home. You can’t help how flustered you feel after leaving him, almost not even believing that it even happened. You exchanged numbers before you left, promising to see each other again soon.
You’re feeling anxiously excited to fill Rose in on today’s events when you get home. There were a lot of details that you fear you may need to leave out, things that were too vulgar to even speak out loud. This idea makes your cheeks flush as you think about it on the walk home. You know that you’re way in over your head but hopefully, with the boundaries you’ve set, you won’t get caught up in it all too intensely. As long as you both follow the rules, no one will get hurt… Right?
· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·
chapter iii
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