#I had said I’d be free but I think I was lying

[littlelamy]

can you do something with rafe and insecure!reader like about her body. he gets mad when he sees the scale is out and stuff like that etc

lamy's notes: i hope you like it!

the scale was out again. rafe stood in the doorway, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he watched you step off it, your shoulders slumping as though the little screen had just hurled an insult you couldn’t shake.

“what the fuck is that doing here?” his voice cut through the silence, sharp, angry, but you knew him—beneath the anger was something softer, something protective that didn’t always know how to come out gently.

“you can’t be mad about a scale, rafe,” you muttered, not meeting his eyes as you moved to tuck it back into the corner of the bathroom. it felt safer there, out of sight, out of his glaring.

but rafe’s hand shot out, grabbing the scale and tossing it into the hallway with a clatter that made you flinch. “no. no fucking way. i’m not letting you do this to yourself.”

you crossed your arms, shrinking in on yourself under his intense gaze. “it’s not a big deal,” you tried, but your voice wavered, giving away the lie.

his chest rose and fell, breath coming heavy as he ran a hand through his hair. “not a big deal? you’ve been…” he gestured to you, his words faltering as though he didn’t know how to say it without breaking you further. “you’ve been looking at yourself like you’re not… enough. like you think i’d ever see you the way you’re seeing yourself. it’s bullshit.”

his voice cracked on the last word, and it made your throat tighten, tears pricking at your eyes. “it’s not about you,” you whispered.

“but it’s about you, and that makes it about me,” he shot back, stepping closer until he was right in front of you, tilting your chin up so you had to look at him. “you think i’m gonna let you stand there and tear yourself apart? that i’m gonna let you… punish yourself over some stupid number? fuck no.”

his words were harsh, but his thumb was soft as it brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tear that slipped free despite your best efforts.

“it’s not that easy,” you said, your voice cracking, and it felt like admitting that broke something in you, the walls you’d been holding up against him crumbling under the weight of your own insecurities.

“yeah, it’s not easy,” he said, his voice softening, “but you don’t have to do it alone. and you sure as hell don’t need that thing”—he nodded toward the scale lying abandoned in the hall—“to tell you your worth.”

you swallowed hard, your chest heaving with the effort of keeping yourself together. “what if i don’t know how to stop?”

he pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in arms that were solid and warm and everything you needed to keep you from falling apart completely. “we’ll figure it out,” he murmured into your hair. “but it starts with me getting rid of that fucking thing. deal?”

his lips pressed to your temple, lingering there like he was willing his own strength into you, and for the first time in days, weeks, maybe longer, you felt like you could breathe.

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[eternallynamelessvoid]

One day I hope I’m just vapor in the clouds in the never-ending water cycle. I’d actually have purpose then.

I wish I had wings.

Really I just wish I could run.

[nmakii]

must be love

— you find sae’s phone opened, and you decide to snoop.

or; sae gets exposed for being a fake idgafer. this is too sappy. 2.7k words, this is my longest fic in my whole life… what life feels like as a girl who loves too much core

tags: @narcjsistx

— for @itoshiluvbot. love ya, partner.

‘she seems really eager to please,

but she has quite the backbone.’

you huff out in frustration. “ah!! ugh…” you scowl. sae raises his eyebrow. “my groupmate never started on her share of the work… ugh, now i have to cram it..!” you explain your sudden outburst. sae scoffs. “then tell your teacher or something. it’s not like i can do anything about it, im not your teacher.” he, quite obviously, points out. “wh… ugh, i’m gonna… i just— needed to let out my anger.” you groan, face planting and screaming into your textbook. and he hums in response. although he didn’t show it on his face, your outburst was quite out of character for the person he had grown to know. it was… weird, to say the least. and it had caused him to make a mental note not to anger you.

‘her generosity knows no bounds.’

“sae, this is for you. merry christmas!” you hand him a wrapped box. “hm..? i don’t take christmas gifts.” he bluntly states. “i haven’t gotten any gifts since i was 10 years old.” you scoff to yourself. “maybe that’s why you’ve always got that stick in your ass.” you tease. “excuse me?” he glares daggers at you. “aaaanyway! open it!” you shove the box into his hands. he looks at the box, and then at you, and he decides to open it. “new cleats.” he acknowledges. yes, mhm. these were indeed cleats..! “i didn’t need these, i was going to buy them myself.” he states.

“i know, you could probably buy them yourself. but, i thought i’d save you the hassle, y’know?” how thoughtful of you. he eyes the cleats up and down; it’s an expensive brand, but it’s worth the price for the quality. “…thanks.” he says, at last. he didn’t expect a gift from you, he doesn’t have one prepared for you. he’ll make sure to buy you something you’ll love later. “oh! hold on, i wanted to give you some other things ♪~” you fish a keychain and envelope out of your bag and hand it to him.

“…cinnamoroll..?” he questions. “it’s cute right? i thought you’d like it.” what an odd way of thinking… never once has he mentioned anything about cinnamoroll. but then again, it is pretty cute. “…well, i won’t say i hate it. thank you.” he thanks you as he eyes the envelope. “ah, don’t read it in front of me..! i got a bit sappy, it’s pretty. embarrassing…” you awkwardly laugh. “ah, got it.”

later that day, he opened the envelope. there was a letter; it had cute doodles all over. and, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel your affection radiating off the letter. it was… really sweet.

‘what a beautiful human being she is.’

itoshi sae is what you like to call a shy lover, if you were to put it kindly.

you know for a fact that he loves you, he just isn’t good at verbally expressing it. words of affection are too sappy for him. he prefers to show it through the thoughtfulness of his gifts, and the longing touches of his hands, which seem to never leave your’s.

you know he loves you. but, you can’t help but wish for him to say it more often.

it wasn’t many nights lately that the two of you would have a date night. with sae’s rigorous training schedule and endless interviews, the only thing he wants to do at night is to fall asleep beside you.

however, today was the end of the season. meaning, sae would have much more free-time for you.

with sae’s last game for the year completed in 0-4, the first thing he had to do was call you. even though you weren’t far away at all, sitting in the VIP lounge with the relatives and girlfriends of sae’s teammates.

“s/o?” he calls your attention. “mhm? congratulations on your win, babe! i knew you’d win.” you congratulate him. “they could barely keep the ball when they had it. is it really an achievement for me to have won this match?” he says, almost sassily. “pssh— alright. i get it, mr. ‘tepid.’.” you tease.

“don’t call me that.” he huffs. “stay where you are. i’ll go to you.” he commands. you hum in acknowledgment, and he hangs up.

he doesn’t keep you waiting too long before showing up. “there you are…” he sighs in relief, kissing you as his hands automatically find themselves on your body— one tangled in your hair, and the other resting on the curve of your spine.

once he finds the will in himself to finally pull away, he’s breathless.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, his fingers flowing through your hair. “…get ready for our date later tonight, yeah? formal wear.”

you nod, and his lips curl upward. “i’ll see you later.”

you decided to go all out, pull all the brakes. and when sae picks you up in his car, he can’t help thinking that you look like a dream. ‘are you sure you aren’t a model?’ he muses to himself. his heart twists, and the fat of his cheeks redden with affection. your hair flows like silk, and that glimmer in your eyes was once a star, handpicked from the skies, he’s sure of it.

everything about you encourages him to keep staring, but he manages to get ahold of himself. “…you…look beautiful.” is the only thing he can get himself to say. but, beautiful doesn’t seem to encapsulate it, not at all. it’s not even close. beautiful is only a fraction of what he thinks. “heh, you think so?” you ask. “yeah; beautiful.” he assures. “let’s go.” he says, barely turning his attention away from you as he turns to the road.

the drive to the restaurant is quiet, but sae’s mind is screaming at him. his eyes can’t stop moving back to take sneaky glances of you. he drinks up your beauty like a serpent, and he still hasn’t had his fill.

“…we’re here.” he pulls the shift into its’ brake. he gets out, and hands his keys to the valet boy— his words are inaudible through the car door, but he quickly finishes his conversation and moves to open your car door.

you take your first step out, and his hand immediately moves to help you out. god, you might be even prettier under the gleam of moonlight, shining like the pearl of the planet.

his arm moves and snakes around your waist, guiding you into the restaurant under the flash of paparazzi cameras. he grimaces at the loud, pitchy voices of news interviewers, begging for a comment; anything for a headline quote.

the gentle touch of his fingers tighten, as he silently encourages you to walk faster, and lose the crowd. the two of you hurry up, and dash into the restaurant, where you’re greeted with a dim candlelight, mahogany walls, and the rhythmic trumpet of jazz.

“welcome, mr. itoshi.” the receptionist greets. “your table for two is right this way.” she quickly guides the two of you into a secluded part of the restaurant, just like he’s always done as to make sure neither of you are spotted and harassed in public.

lamps hang on the walls, creating a romantic atmosphere. and the curved dark-brown leather booth couch perfectly complements the dark oak roundtable.

the date isn’t too different from the others. the two of you chat about anything that comes to mind. but, it’s actually more like it’s just you chattering on, and sae listening as he admires that excited grin on your face.

on the outside looking in, it’s obvious how he has heart eyes when he stares at you. he’s in a trance as he listens to the rich honeying sweetness of your voice; his finger traces the lines on the roundtable, wishing that it’d be the crinkles of your smile he’s tracing when he blinks and opens his eyes again.

his trance is broken though, when his phone rings. damn it, he forgot to put his phone on do not disturb… “something wrong?” you ask sae, and he takes his phone out of his pocket. “not sure. there shouldn’t be a problem, i cancelled everything for tonight. ugh… just a second, amor…” he remorsefully takes your hand in his as a silent gesture of apology. he took too long to pick up the phone, it already went out…

he opened his call app, and saw that it was from his publicist, dabadie. he groaned before picking up.

“sae! you didn’t mention that you’d be going out on a date today, your paparazzi shot is already all over social medias..!” he worriedly stammers. “i didn’t? well, whatever… it’s just a date photo anyway.” sae shrugs, speaking quietly to ensure that you don’t hear. “right— but… you know the internet… they might criticize you, and say that she’s distracting you from soccer…”

sae is about to correct him— he’s about to say that you aren’t distracting him from his career, but he holds back once he remembers that you’re right beside him, eagerly waiting for his attention to be back on you.

“i… have to speak to you for a second, im already outside the restaurant… the paparazzi didn’t censor out the location well enough either… so, the agency’s security car will follow you two home…” he adds on. sae sighs. “i have to speak to you too. i’ll meet you outside.” he hangs up. he huffs in exasperation and shallowly drops his phone, making it clatter on the table; the screen is left open on his call record. “im sorry, amor… i have to quickly take care of something, i’ll be back soon, i promise.” he kisses your hand.

“hmph, don’t worry. it’s dabadie, right? he’s always worried about something…” you laugh. of course you’d be understanding about it. you always understood. “heh, that he is.” he sasses before leaving the table.

…and you can’t help but notice that his phone is still open.

his phone is practically yelling at you, “check out what’s on me, s/o! check it out right now!”, and you simply can’t resist the temptation to!

first, you simply scroll around at his call record; nothing too interesting, it’s filled with calls from dabadie, and you. as well as occasional calls from his mom. how tepid, as sae would put it. you exit the app, and find his home screen wallpaper to be a picture he took of you; you’re looking out into the distance, the large castle of sleeping beauty in the background.

you smile to yourself at that cute photo, and move to his photos; it’s filled with photos of you, and almost none of him— not unless you were beside him. you scroll down to check out his older photos; they’re childhood pictures, only a few of them are with rin included.

…

…anyways, ‘what is in sae itoshi’s notes app?’, you ponder. you open his notes app.

‘things i want to eat: 1. omelette, 2. paella, 3. pesto pasta’

‘onitsuka tiger mexico - kill bill/grey, new balance 2002r - grey, asics gel NYC - oyster grey’

‘laundry’

‘i love you’

you laugh at the randomness of his notes, quickly scrolling through them. it’s true when they say that a boy’s notes is truly random.

but that last note catches your eye. it’s a pretty odd note that just says ‘i love you’ with no additional text. and, it makes you wonder.

sae’s an organized person, more or less. so, his notes must be filed too. and, you’re correct. there are three files; ‘lists’, ‘important documents’, and a file with your initial as its’ name.

the other two don’t seem as interesting, nor seem as mysterious. so, you click on the mysterious file.

and, the file is filled with everything about you; he’s written down your birthday (including the time…), your family members’ names, foods you like to eat when you aren’t feeling well, shows that you like to watch… everything.

and, there’s a note that catches your eye. it’s a cut-off sentence, since it was too long. you decide to feed your curiosity and click on the note.

‘she talks to everyone, even the people she doesn’t like.

it takes a lot to piss her off.

she’s always kind to me, after all.

she seems really eager to please, but she has quite the backbone.

she works really hard, but i don’t think many see it.

her generosity knows no bounds, and she always knows what kind of joke to make.

i didn’t think it was possible for a soul to be so beautiful.

nor, that someone like i would meet a soul like her’s.

but, im grateful to the stars above that i met her.

someone as kind as her deserves to receive all the love she gives.

i don’t think she knows how loved she really is though.

what a beautiful human being she is.

there simply isn’t enough words to describe the way her dimples crinkle when she’s happy.

the day she was conceived, the gods must’ve tenderly sculpted her heart out of ivory and gold.

the way she enamors everyone in the room simply by walking inside, and the way her personality shines in her rushed, yet sweet handwriting.

one day, i hope she’ll finally be perpetually happy.

so, that she can always shine that enchanting smile of her’s.

she deserves all of it.’

was this a poem..? it didn’t seem like it, it didn’t rhyme, and the stanzas didn’t have equal amounts of lines… but, the way he worded it out almost made it seem like he was a poet.

you don’t… even know what to think at such a romantic confession. it’s certainly much more than sae has ever verbally said to you. but, the fact that he had written this with you in mind makes your heart pound like crazy.

you’ve always known that sae loves you, but seeing his private thoughts all written out for you to read was… overwhelming.

“going through my texts, amor? i’m not texting any other woman besides you.” sae nonchalantly jokes. shit— time went quicker than you’d thought. “ah, nn… just got a bit curious, babe…” you hum. “what were you looking at..?” he asks, and his eyes widen the moment he sees what you were reading. out of all the things on his phone, that was the last thing he wanted you reading.

he embarrassedly closes his phone. “so… what was all that writing about..? were you trying to be a poet?” you jokingly ask; you knew that sae wasn’t mad, per say… he was probably just embarrassed. “n..no… it was, ah…” he clears his throat. “it was just… something i typed out when i realized i had many observations about you that i needed to write down. i just got sidetracked while i was typing.” he explains.

you smile, your entire body feeling like you’re on fire. the love you feel for sae itoshi feels like too much to contain in your heart. “it was really sweet, sae…” you assure him. for some reason, you have the odd incentive to just… cry right now. you love him so much.

“i know. but, it’s also too sappy.” he huffs. “aw, don’t be so shy… i know you’re just a huge softie under that tough surface…” you tease, moving closer to cuddle up to his side. “im not soft. i just love you, okay?” he groans. “don’t make me say embarrassing things.”

your smile widens, making him look at you with that lovesick look in his eyes. “aww… well, i guess i know how much you love me now anyway, so that’s good enough..!” you mentally fist pump at this small victory.

the atmosphere suddenly feels light again as you start to chatter again, teasing him slightly before going back to what you were speaking about before he had left. and still, sae’s looking at you like you’re the world cup trophy, like you’re all he’s dreamed of.

and sae thinks…

‘…you’ll know how sappy i can get when it’s our wedding day.’

but he should save that for another 5 years, or so.

[xneens]

three cents

you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

Girls' night out was wild, no one knew where you would end up. One night, you ended up on a boat and the next you were on a train to NYC. After getting thrown in jail with Emily, JJ, and Penelope during another night out, you all vowed to keep whatever happened during the night a secret from everyone, specifically Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan who had bailed all four of you out of jail, Derek Morgan who teased you relentlessly for weeks after.

After a long case, Emily suggested another girl’s night which all of you agreed on, desperately needing a celebratory drink after saving a little girl. It was around one in the morning when you got back to Quantico and though Aaron gave you the day off for tomorrow–or well, later today–all four of you decided to crash at Emily’s and drink to your heart’s content.

Popcorn and Hersey kisses lay on Emily’s coffee table, bottles of half-empty wine and jello shots litter the floor and you’re all giggling about whether to prank Derek by getting phone cases with a picture of him shirtless. You’re all on board and Penelope is getting them custom-made through a website she’s found.

“Speaking of Derek’s abs.” JJ drags the ‘s’ creating a hissing noise. She turns to you, grinning. “I’ve wanted to ask ever since you went to that Doctor Who convention with him. Do you like like Spence?”

You giggled, taking a small sip of wine, thinking about the genius. “Noooo. Spence is my friend. And he runs with his gun like it’s weighing him down. Besides, I only went to that Doctor Who convention because he went to see Barbie with me. He’s, like, too young for me, too.”

“He’s older than you.” Emily points out, smirking, knowing full well you liked older men. “He’s adorable and sweet.”

“Spencer is definitely cute and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a sex dream about him,” you confessed, smiling as the girls burst out laughing. “But he’s too … inexperienced. I like my men like I like my wine. Old.”

Your phone had been on mute since you entered the plane, not wanting to abruptly wake anyone up if they were resting, so not a single person in the room had heard your phone ringing or Aaron’s multiple “hello’s” trying to get your attention. All of you were oblivious to your boss listening in to the conversation.

“Is Rossi too old for you?” Penelope asked, inciting another round of giggles.

You nodded, finishing off your glass of wine. “Just a bit. I’ve seen pictures of him when he was in the Marines though, and I definitely would’ve been the fourth Mrs. Rossi back then.”

Emily cackled, a bit of red wine spilling from her full glass. “Okay, I have a question. Would you guys fuck Hotch for ten million dollars? Be honest here.”

“No!” both JJ and Penelope spit out. They all turned to you, grinning like madmen.

You shrugged, filling another glass. “I’d do it for three.”

“Damn, three million? That’s–“

“Nope,” you smirked, taking a sip.

Emily paused, head tilting in confusion. “Three … hundred thousand?”

“No.”

“Three thousand?”

You shake your head, grinning at the confused woman. “Nope.”

“Three hundred?”

“No.”

Emily’s eyes widened, jaw-dropping a little further as you denied her guesses. “Three dollars?”

“No.”

“THREE CENTS?” JJ was the one to shout, mouth dropping open when you giggled and nodded.

Penelope threw a pillow at you, and you giggled, dodging it, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “Hey! This is supposed to be a judge-free zone. I’d suck and fuck Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner for three measly cents.”

“Okay, I’d understand if you said Derek but Hotch?” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“Exactly! That’s part of the appeal,” you replied. You were sure by tomorrow no one would remember your confession–though you were positive you wouldn’t either–and that they wouldn’t tease you too much over it. “He’s the literal definition of a DILF.”

The girls laughed at your words, JJ having to clutch onto a pillow to control herself.

“And!” you continue. “I was working out with Derek once and Hotch came in the gym with gray sweats and his dick looks humongous. It was a huge fucking bulge. I think I saw it twitching.”

Penelope slaps her hands over her ears, playfully grimacing at your words while Emily chugs the remains of her glass, absolutely baffled. You didn’t mind, sex and boys were common conversation topics during girl’s night (and sometimes when Emily would catch you making eyes at someone.

The rest of the night continued the same, though less talk about Hotch’s big dick and more on whether you all should make more jello shots. By the time you’re coming up with an answer, it’s five in the morning and all four of you are knocked out from the alcohol in your system. Even in your drunk state, you knew you’d wake up to a pounding headache.

When Derek calls in the morning, telling everyone about a new case, you’re all moody and grumpy. Hotch wanted everyone in even though he had given the day off, so no one was jumping for joy especially not in your hangover state.

Despite drinking the most, Emily drives the four of you back to the BAU, mumbling obscenities under her breath on the way. When you enter the elevator, Derek is there, causing all of you to groan at his presence. One look at you and he laughs loudly, knowing what had transpired the night before.

You wish you could shoot his foot.

In the briefing room, Hotch apologizes for having you all come in on your day off, pausing to glance at you before presenting the case. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid that much attention to it, your headache taking up your attention. Fire, serial arsonist, fifteen dead, Seattle.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announces, walking across the table. As the team filters out of the room, he calls your name. “In my office, please. I want to discuss something with you.”

Confused, you follow him to his office, pushing through your headache to think about what he could possibly want to speak to you about. You come up blank, even more confused when you see him lock the door to his office as you enter. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hotch shook his head, moving past you to his desk. He picks up something and turns around. In his hands are three pennies, and he’s holding them out to you. “Three cents.”

You’re getting deja vu on the words, and it’s not until several seconds of standing in silence and confusion that it clicks. Three cents. You blush, looking at the pennies. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d suck and fuck me for three cents,” he smirks at your shock, placing the coins in your hands.

“What–”

Hotch unbuckles his belt, causing you to stop mid-sentence. “You’ve got twenty-eight minutes to suck my cock. Get to work.”

[snarltoothed]

chronically ill crowd what is your least favorite weird symptom/condition???? mine is hyperhydrosis <3

[cameronsprincess]

Hi prettyyyy! I neeeeed jealous stepbro!rafe, maybe something like he catches you sneaking back in after seeing a boy, or sneaking out, your the brilliant writer so I know you’ll do absolute wonders with this idea!!! 💋💋💋

i love stepbro!rafe so damn much, ugh. thank you for this request and the kind words baby!🤍🤍

CW: smut! 18+ only! stepcest, mean!rafe, punishment, slight choking, ass slapping, fingering, dirty talk.

rafe masterlist | requests

you’d been waiting on the perfect time to sneak out and see jj, the pogue you were forbidden from seeing by your mother and your obnoxious stepbrother, rafe.

it was finally the night, your mom and ward being out of town for a business gala and rafe was at topper’s house, you were home alone.

or so you thought.

you had just finished the final touches of your makeup, grabbing your phone off the floor and shooting a quick text to jj, letting him know you were about to head his way.

gathering everything you’d need, you quietly make your way out of your bedroom. you turn to head for the spiral staircase, but you run into a wall— or rather, your stepbrothers chest. you fall backward onto your ass, a small groan falling from your lips as you slowly look up, finding rafe’s bright blue eyes glaring down at you.

a smile spreads across his lips. “and where exactly do you think you’re going?”

you slowly push yourself back to your feet, dusting off the back of your leggings before squaring your shoulders, looking up into rafe’s eyes.

“well, not that it’s any of your goddamn business, i’m going to a friends house.”

“a friend?”

you scoff. “yeah. a friend.”

crossing your arms across your chest, you let out an exasperated sigh. “look, rafe. i don’t know what your problem is with me, but it’s getting old. just let me go to my friends house, it’s not that big of a fucking deal.”

rafe takes a slow step toward you, his hands reaching out and gripping at your upper arms. he pulls you into him, dipping his head down, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, “so much attitude for someone with no power here. mommy and daddy aren’t here to save you, princess, so i’d consider your next words very carefully.”

his eyes scan the length of your face, and you suck in a sharp breath. you squirm in his hold, trying to rip your arms out of his grasp, but it’s no use. rafe digs his fingers into your arms, making you whimper out in pain, but you still don’t back down.

fuck him and his thinking he can control you. fuck him for thinking he can tell you what to do, he’s your stepbrother, not your keeper. you lift your head, narrowing your eyes on his, “fuck you, rafe. you’re my stepbrother, why the fuck do you care about what the hell i do with my free time? you don’t see me crashing out over you spending nights out of the house, bringing girls in and out of your room, i don’t give a fuck what you do, so why the fuck do you ca-”

rafe’s right hand releases your arm, coming up and wrapping around your throat. he squeezes so tightly tears blur your vision. a silent scream escapes you as you kick your legs out, bucking and fighting against rafe’s hold on you. he pushes your back into the wall, your head banging harshly against it, causing a dull throb. he leans forward again, pressing his lips against yours in a messy, slow kiss.

at first you’re confused, this isn’t right, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think your stepbrother was hot. i mean… he was fucking gorgeous. you stop fighting against his hold, melting into his touch instead. you kiss him back hungrily, tongue swirling with his, teeth clashing against each other as you both breathe heavily against one another.

rafe breaks his lips from yours, reaching his left hand to the side and pushing open the door to your bedroom. he quickly yanks you inside, kicking it shut behind him as his lips find yours again. he drags you to your bed, falling back onto the end and dragging you across his lap. his fingers push into the waistband of your leggings, harshly tugging them down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles. rafe groans when he sees you had no panties on.

“going to a ‘friends’ house with no panties on? such a dirty little thing aren’t you, princess?”

you whimper when his large hands firmly grope at your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands before he begins to run them down your thighs, reaching the heat of your soaked core. you feel his cock stiffen beneath your stomach, a whimper pulled from you as he runs his fingers through your slick folds.

your hips buck, soft whimpers and whines falling past your pouty lips as rafe teases at your entrance with his thick fingers.

“so wet, princess,” rafe groans, shoving his index and middle fingers inside your cunt, curling them slightly and toying with your g-spot. “you’re fucking mine. always have been, and i think it’s about time i show you that you belong to me.”

rafe’s fingers begin to harshly thrust in and out of your soaked pussy, the lewd noises of your arousal bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. the muscles of your thighs tighten, your inner walls contracting around his thick digits.

rafe lets out a dark chuckle, the pace of his fingers picking up. he fucks you hard and fast, that familiar fire burning low in your belly. this is so wrong, and you know it. you know rafe knows it. you might not be blood related, but he’s still your stepbrother. if your parents found out about this… ward would kill rafe.

your thoughts are interrupted when rafe’s low, raspy voice fills your ears. “pussy’s so wet and tight, my sweet little stepsister loves when i have my fingers stuffed inside her cunt, doesn’t she?”

“r-rafe… please?” you beg, another soft moan slipping past your parted lips. your eyes squeeze shut, your clit pulsing and walls clenching around his fingers.

“say it!” rafe shouts, slowing his fingers before completely stilling them inside you. “say you’re mine. say you won’t ever let another man touch you.”

you roll your hips, trying to push yourself to your release, but rafe’s free hand slaps against your ass cheek, a tingle spreading down your spine from the impact. “say it, princess, and i’ll let you cum.”

“i’m yours! all yours, rafe! please… please let me cum!”

rafe lets out a satisfied hum, his fingers pushing in and out of you again. his pace is rough and fast, “rafe… ‘m gonna cum… shit!”

your entire body jerks against his thighs, legs shaking as your orgasm rushes through you. rafe’s fingers fuck you through your high, only slowing when your body calms down, falling slack over his lap. he slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, rolling you over so you’re facing him, a wicked smile on his lips.

“such a good girl. this is our little secret, but you’re mine, princess. don’t ever fuckin’ think of pulling a stunt like this again.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafeyscurtainbangs @starkeysprincess @littlelamy @httpsdrewstarkey @rafesbabygirlx @oceandriveab @nemesyaaa @kiiyomei @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll

[paddockletters]

late-night talkings | oscar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x reader

summary: Late at night, unable to sleep, you and Oscar dive into a heartfelt conversation about racing, the future, and life beyond the track. As memories resurface and dreams unfold, you realize just how much the future holds for both of you.

author's note: first fic with oscarrrr, i hope you liked it .. Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

It was well past 1 AM, and neither of you could sleep. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the dim light barely enough to push back the darkness. You lay next to Oscar, staring at the ceiling, each of you lost in your thoughts.

His sigh broke the silence first, and you turned your head slightly to see him lying on his back, eyes heavy with exhaustion yet still wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice was low, barely a whisper in the stillness of the night.

“Nope,” you replied, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “You?”

Oscar chuckled lightly, running a hand through his messy hair. “Not even close. My mind won’t shut off.”

You shifted closer to him, the blanket sliding down as you propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand, a small, comforting gesture.

“Everything,” he finally said, his voice soft. “Racing, the future, us…”

You tilted your head, a small frown forming on your face. “What about us?”

Oscar let out a sigh, his eyes flickering over to meet yours. “I’ve been thinking… about where I want to be in a few years. About what happens after racing. And I don’t know, it’s just been on my mind a lot lately.”

You paused, taking in his words. It wasn’t the first time you had these late-night conversations, but this one felt heavier, more serious.

“What do you see?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I see more races, obviously. Hopefully a few wins,” he added with a small smile, but there was something deeper behind it. “But after that... I don’t know. I just know I want you there with me, wherever that is.”

His words settled in your chest, warm and comforting. You remembered a conversation you'd had early in his career, before everything got so intense, before the constant travel, the pressure, the sleepless nights like this one.

It was his rookie season, and everything had been so new—so exhilarating and overwhelming all at once. You were standing in the paddock, watching him from the sidelines as he navigated the chaos of his first race weekend. You could still remember the way his face lit up when he saw you after the race, his excitement bubbling over despite the exhaustion that lined his features.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he had said, pulling you into a hug. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, his heart still racing from the adrenaline of the day. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far, but here we are.”

“I always knew you would,” you had replied, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “You were born for this.”

Now, lying next to him in the dark, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory. So much had changed since then, but in many ways, things were still the same. You were still by his side, through the highs and the lows, the wins and the losses. And he was still the same Oscar, even if the weight of the world sometimes rested on his shoulders.

“What about kids?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “Do you ever think about that?”

Oscar’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “You’re really asking me about kids at 2 AM?”

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Why not? You’re the one who brought up the future.”

He sighed, his expression turning thoughtful. “I do think about it sometimes. Not anytime soon, obviously, but... yeah. I could see us with kids one day.”

There was a moment of silence, and then he added with a teasing grin, “They’d have to be faster than me, though. I can’t have slow kids.”

You burst out laughing, playfully swatting his arm. “You and your racing. I swear, you’ll be teaching them to drive before they can even walk.”

Oscar grinned, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous sparkle you loved so much. “Absolutely. I’ll get them in a kart as soon as they’re old enough. Gotta keep the Piastri legacy going.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest only grew. It was moments like this—these small, quiet conversations—that reminded you of why you loved him so much. Despite the craziness of his career, despite the pressure and the constant traveling, he was still the same goofy, thoughtful guy you fell in love with.

“Do you ever wonder what we’d be doing if you weren’t racing?” you asked after a beat of silence.

Oscar turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think… this is where we’re supposed to be. I don’t think I’d be happy doing anything else. And I like to think you wouldn’t either.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re right. I can’t imagine a life without you doing what you love.”

His hand found yours under the covers, and he squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m glad you’re here, you know. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache in the best way, and you leaned in closer, resting your head on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The conversation lulled, but the silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken promises and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. You lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the future stretching out ahead of you in a way that felt both daunting and exciting all at once.

But eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, and you could feel Oscar’s breathing start to even out as he drifted off to sleep. You stayed awake for a little while longer, your mind swirling with thoughts of everything you had talked about—the future, kids, racing. It was all so uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel scared.

As sleep finally began to claim you, you whispered into the quiet, “Goodnight, Oscar.”

In the dim light, you felt him smile, his arms tightening around you as he mumbled sleepily, “Goodnight, love.”

[catbolt]

— PRETTY

[SOUNDTRACK] Pretty - The Weeknd || ▶︎

Sylus doesn't take breakups lying down. Well... maybe lying on top of you.

[TAGS] sylus x female mc, angst, smut, rough sex, ex-boyfriend!Sylus, cheating (with him) (on Zayne eek), dubcon sorta, choking, Evol, mentions of blood, glasses sylus bc it's soooo hot

[A/N] my debut fic for LADS (have not written for genuinely years so forgive any rustiness, first time doing any smut also, so i was frankly a bit light with it.) More angst than smut tbh as that is my comfort zone hehe. 100% inspired by "pretty" by the weeknd from my sylus playlist

plz reblog and share or comment if you want! Feel free to leave any thoughts or feedback as this is my first time writing in a while :)

[WC] 5.1k

songfic 1/?

Sylus’ call comes unexpectedly. As his calls always did, but especially this time, considering the last time they talked she had cursed him out and damn near trashed his house, saying she was done, telling him to delete her number. He had sat on the couch with an impassive stare, arms crossed, legs splayed leisurely, completely silent. This had just enraged her even further, and she had thrown a pillow at him, desperate for some kind of reaction. He had caught it and set it down next to him calmly, continuing to refuse to give her even a morsel of proof he cared.

Whatever the two of them had had, it was over. She thought she had made that extremely clear. So her eyebrows furrow in confusion and annoyance when his name comes up on her phone screen. Sylus wouldn’t be the type to beg for her back, so what could he possibly be calling her for? Especially when he knew she was going on an out of town mission?

Especially when he knew Zayne was on this mission with her?

Against her better judgment, she accepts the call and leans back in her chair in her hotel room, mouth drawing into an irritated grimace. “What.”

The line crackles with his dark, familiar laughter. “Hello to you too.” “Talk,” she spits.

“I’m on a flight,” he says. “To where you are. I’ll be landing in an hour. Let’s see each other.”

“I don’t think so,” she retorts immediately, seething  at his audacity-- how he could possibly be calling her right now as if what had happened last week was nothing. 

“Ah. Let me rephrase. That wasn’t a question,” he says sternly. “I will be seeing you when I land. Consider this a courtesy heads-up.”

“You don’t know where I am,” she responds. “I am not seeing you. It’s late and I have work tomorrow.” “Don’t piss me off.” He snarls. “I don’t like being underestimated. I obviously know exactly where you are.”

She grits her teeth, realizing she should have anticipated that, but quickly regains her composure. She’s used to the back and forth with him. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to see me.” “Of course not,” he says coldly. “I’m here on business. I just happen to have a free night.” His voice softens. “And I’d like to spend it with you.”

Her hands curl into fists. “Don’t act like I didn’t tell you to your face to never contact me again. What the hell are you doing?”

Sylus doesn’t respond for a moment, and then the silence is broken with his chuckle. “You didn’t block me. So it seems you weren’t as adamant about that as you acted.”

Her cheeks redden with shame. He’s obviously right, she didn’t block him-- something had stopped her, even though she knew she should have. In the back of her mind, she had maybe fantasized about him calling her desperately, apologizing, begging for her back, and her crushing his hopes coldly like he had done to her so many times before.

“It doesn’t matter. You know I’m with Zayne now,” she says matter-of-factly. “You have no right to see me. I’m with somebody else.”

“I said don’t piss me off,” he bites, the simmer of irritation beginning to seep into his voice. It gives her a shiver of satisfaction knowing that she’s able to get under his skin even just a little. She leans into the receiver. “In fact, I was just on my way to his place now. It was a long day... we definitely both need to rest up together.”

The line falls quiet, and then Sylus finally replies, voice icy and measured. “You can’t possibly think I’m buying that, are you? Please, princess. I told you I’ll be there in an hour. Doll yourself up for me. I’ll take you out.”

The line drops. She scoffs, shaking her head. She’s pissed that he saw through her lie about Zayne-- he’s still working late, and there’s no way she’ll be seeing him tonight. She wonders what gave it away. Was it that he’s got men spying on them, or was it that her voice betrayed a hint of halfheartedness when she lied?

Her heart thuds, and her mind snaps back to the situation at hand. One hour. She sits still in the seat, completely unsure of her next move. Deep down she knows whether she likes it or not, Sylus will be on her doorstep right when he said he would. It’d be fruitless to attempt to escape him when he has eyes everywhere. So her plan... should be to fend him off. 

Her resolve was always weak when it came to that, but she tries to steel herself, taking deep breaths, recounting all the times he had ignored her, pushed her aside, forgotten about her. She tries to channel that resentment into a cold hard shell around her. She won’t be weak again. Not now. Not when she’s found someone good and kind who’s shown her that she’s worth time and effort. She won’t “doll herself up” for him. It’s her turn to show she doesn’t care.

The hour ticks by in a second, and there’s a steady knock on her door. Her heart sinks-- she had hoped that somehow his plans would have been foiled by some unexpected flight delay, but he was right on time as always. She sits still on the corner of her bed, unmoving. 

“Don’t make me pick the lock,” he chides softly. His voice is muffled through the wood, but the gleam of amusement shines through. She buries her face in her palms for a moment, and then slowly walks up to open the door just a crack. 

He pushes it fully open with a strong hand, smirk playing on his lips already as he looks down at her. “Still in your uniform,” he chides. “You want to wear that?”

“You are not taking me out.” She responds coldly, turning to walk over and sit at the coffee table again, not meeting his gaze. She needs to maintain distance. 

“If you’d rather stay here, we could make that work.” Sylus shuts the door quietly behind him and then leans his back against it, posture casual in a way that sends a spike of annoyance through her. This is why they broke up in the first place-- he was always so motherfucking casual about everything, even her, face betraying not a sliver of his true feelings. 

“What do you even want from me?” She snaps, eyes glued to the coffee table. Anything to avoid looking at him. “I told you I’m with someone else. I’m not interested in restarting anything with you.”

“When did I say anything about that?” He chuckles, clearing the room in a few swift strides and sitting on the loveseat opposite her. He’s wearing a casual sweater and sweatpants-- even his glasses, which he usually doesn’t. His hair is mussed up a bit, and she notices light bags under his eyes that give her pause. Something’s definitely up. She doesn’t know what, but doesn’t want to ask. She can’t invite more conversation if her goal is to get him out of this room. 

“I just want to take you out,” he murmurs, head now resting in his hand. “Is that a crime?” “Yes, when I’m spoken for by another man, it is.” She glares at him. “What about me being with someone else do you not understand?” “Does he make you feel pretty?” Sylus drawls, red eyes flickering with a hint of contempt. Her breath catches slightly, not anticipating the question. “What--”

“Does he?” Sylus pushes, leaning forward in his seat. “Does he make you feel beautiful?” “I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“No.” he cuts her off. “He doesn’t.” 

She’s stunned into silence. He leans back again, chuckling and pushing up his glasses, a motion that unfortunately sends a familiar fire coursing down her body, through her chest to her abdomen. “You didn’t fight me when I came in. You didn’t yell, or tell me to leave. That tells me all I need to know, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she sneers back. 

Suddenly Sylus’ hand is gripping her chin hard, forcing her head to meet his eyes. He’s closer than she had realized, his eyes staring deep into her own. “He can’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus rumbles, his thumb tracing her jaw, expression an inscrutable mask. 

In a moment, she finds herself sprawled out on the hotel bed before she can think. His Evol-- he can throw her around how he pleases, she reminds herself, mind flashing with memories she’s tried to forget of all the compromising positions her body’s been twisted into at his whim. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed across his chest as he looks down at her. She feels the heat of his gaze like two laser pointers as they examine her, lingering on every part of her. It's as if she’s under a scientist’s microscope. His gaze is unfeeling, but still somehow red-hot, and she can’t help the way her chest heaves up and down, feeling so observed.

He takes note of her body’s involuntary reaction. “He can’t make you feel like this by just looking at you, can he doll?”

“Fuck you,” she barks, face flushed with shame as she backs up on the bed, increasing the distance between the two. He smirks. “You’d like to?”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that what you’re here for? Sex?”

“No,” he muses, sitting down at the corner of the bed, looking at her. “Though I’m not opposed. I wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Her breath is coming out ragged. She can’t hide her anger much longer. “How are you acting like nothing happened? We--I-- I don’t love you! I don’t want you! What about that is so hard for you to understand?”

“Liar,” he hums in a sing-song tone, brow quirking as he meets your harsh stare cooly. “I don’t understand it because it’s a lie, sweetie. If I touched you right now your body would tell me the truth. But I already know it.” His face is smug. She wants to slap him.

“Just-- just because I might still be attracted to you doesn’t mean I would ever do anything with you again, Sylus. I have morals,” she spits.

In a red flash, he’s on top of her, a finger pressed into the center of her chest, other hand braced on the headboard. Her body convulses involuntarily in shock of his sudden proximity as well as the feeling of his skin-- even just his fingertip-- pressed against her.

He grins at her reaction. “That’s my girl.” 

“Get the fuck off me,” she hisses up at him. He lowers himself so his lips touch her earlobe, so his chest is pressed against hers. “No,” he whispers simply.

At this distance, she can see even more strikingly the weariness in his features. His skin is rough. His eyes are tired. There’s a small pimple on his cheek, a hint at the fact he must have been skipping his skincare routine that he’s always been so adamant about staying on top of.

For a moment she relishes in the thought that his undone-ness is because of her. Her instincts get the better of her, and she ensnares a fist in his sweater, pulling him down even lower, tilting her head to whisper in his ear, now--

“You look like shit. Are you sad about me?”

He reels back in surprise, eyes clouding for the first time with something other than smugness, brows momentarily twitching, betraying his facade. His hand wraps around her throat, holding her into the pillow, the touch gentle but forceful. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds her steady. His mask is on before she can double back.

“Can’t a man have an off day?” he chides her. “Maybe I haven’t slept so well. I was just on a long flight. Sue me.”

“Doesn’t look like it was just a day,” she responds instantly. “Looks like an off month. Are you finally regretting being a dick?”

He sneers, hand twitching around her throat, but he remains gentle. “I’m not a dick.”

“You are a huge fucking dick,” she spits back. He leans back off her, rising into a kneeling position, smirking down at her, releasing his hand from her neck It’s then she realizes she’s been holding her breath even though he hadn’t been choking her.

“Then why are you still lying here under me? If I’m such a dick?” 

“You’re just gonna use your Evol to put me back. It’s no use fighting you,” she retorts, but inwardly she knows she could have at least tried to struggle, shame rising in her stomach. 

“I’m not buying that, sweetheart.” He absentmindedly hooks a finger in the top of her uniform and pops the top button open with one hand. Her face flushes involuntarily at the gesture. “W-what are you doing?”

“Seeing how long it’ll take you to shove me off. If you really do hate me so much as you say.” He murmurs, finger sliding down to pop open another button. 

Her body freezes, her breath stilting into uneven inhales and exhales. It’s as if Sylus’ Evol is pinning her down, restraining her movement, but he isn’t-- he’s barely restraining her, only his finger on her body now, wrapping in the cleft of her shirt and undoing yet another button. Yet she can’t find the strength to move, eyes hazing over with the familiar lust she’s always had for him, and something further-- adoration, as she watches his face concentrated on her body. Even in this disheveled state he radiates, makes her heart swell against her will, beat hard and insistently like it’s pressing up against her ribs. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down slowly to kiss at her jaw, lips warm and soft. She chokes back a sigh, clenching her teeth at his touch but still inexplicably unable to move. “You know you want this.” She doesn’t respond, grappling with herself, memories of Zayne rearing, his soft and measured touches, in contrast to Sylus’ raw aggression. Finally, hearing Zayne’s voice in her head, she snaps herself out of her paralysis, hand coming up to push Sylus back, palm flat against his chest. “W-wait.”

He stops, eyes searching her face silently. “I--I--” she stammers, eyes wide, not able to get any words out. 

“Shh,” he murmurs, tracing a thumb across her lips. “I won’t make you ssay it.” He focuses on her, and then she feels heat flood her senses, a key sign he’s using his Evol again, in the other way. Her vision darkens, and she knows here, in this quiet black place he’s taking her, she can’t hide from him. It’s a place where she can only be honest. She feels her back arch as the feelings burst out of her-- I need it, I need you, make me yours, I miss you-- she feels a pang of relief that he’s removed the burden from her of saying it, of forcing her to betray herself, betray Zayne, out loud. But the shame eats away at her, corrosive like acid, as she looks into Sylus’ eyes, watching them glimmer as they decipher her hidden thoughts. 

Sylus focuses, attuned to her mind and body, feeling the words of her consciousness rush in as if uttered directly into his ears, proving what he already knew-- that he still has her wrapped around his finger. “Let me have you,” he purrs, fingers wrapping around yet another button.

Her resolve crumbles with her deepest desires surfaced by his Evol. He makes work quickly of the rest of the buttons, tearing open her shirt, exposing her bra. He growls at the sight,  eyes narrowing. 

“You want this... don’t you?”

Her response is choked in her throat, but manages to slip out despite her better judgment. “Yes,” she moans, and that’s all he needs to hear. His mouth meets her collarbone, sucking attentively. “Good,” he murmurs between kisses. “I’m not fond of sharing, you know.”

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she mutters, her body’s reaction to him involuntary (or so she convinces herself.) “I’m still not... your girlfriend, or anything like that. I don’t even like you.”

“Who said anything about you being my girlfriend?” He mutters, mouth working over her neck now. He smiles into her skin. “Ah. Do you think I came here to get you to be my girlfriend again?”

“No.” She snaps, blushing furiously, her hands landing on his arms that are braced on top of the mattress as he leans over her. “I didn’t say that. I’m just reiterating what should already be beyond clear to you.” “I’ll tell you what’s clear to me,” he murmurs, pulling back for a second, his deep blood-red eyes boring into hers. “What’s clear is... this Zayne guy doesn’t seem to be able to handle this beautiful gift he’s been given, and it seems like this gift herself knows she isn’t being cared for properly. Enjoyed properly.” He hooks a finger into her bra strap. “Or else it wouldn’t have taken her only five minutes to crumble.”

“I’m not going back to you,” she spits out. 

“You never left,” he says softly, a half smile rising on his chapped lips. 

Suddenly she’s being flipped onto her back, her face smothered in the pillow below her, the sensation of a cold hand gripping the back of her neck, fingers encircling it with practiced ease. His weight presses her down, pins her deep into the blankets. With his other hand he deftly unlatches her bra from the back, and then tugs off her pants, leaving her exposed with just her underwear on. She whimpers, feeling the air smooth over her hot skin. 

“He doesn’t do this for you, does he?” Sylus drawls, an arm snaking under her hips to pull her upward on her knees, his other hand still pressing her head and neck into the pillow. Her cheeks burn at this new position, knowing how vulnerable and bare she is. She stays silent, a flicker of anger mixing with desire. 

He roughly yanks down her panties, and before long she feels a calloused thumb between her wet folds. She bites into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar warmth of pleasure surges over her. She curses herself internally for letting herself become so pliant, so weak in his hands.

“Seems like I’ve got my answer,” he mutters, thumb pressing against her clit. She bites back a groan, teeth impaling her bottom lip. She can hear his usually stoic voice growing thicker and deeper with his own building arousal, a sound which only makes her feel weaker.

“Now sweetheart, I don’t have much time.” He bends down by her ear, leaning over her, hot breath sending a shiver down her body. “I’d love to take care of you slowly, bit by bit, but I wasn’t joking when I said I was here on business. I have some pressing matters to take care of that need my attention, after this... matter right here.” He slaps her ass, hard. She yelps, drawing a rough chuckle from his throat.

“I only have time for one round, unfortunately, so I’m going to ask for your input.” He purrs into her ear. “Don’t say anything else-- just be good, and answer my question. I don’t have time for your backtalk.” The flat of his hand smooths over the spot he slapped, sending bolts of heat through her abdomen. 

“Fingers, my mouth... or all of me inside you. Choose.” 

She tastes the tang of blood from where she’d bitten her lip earlier as she opens her mouth to speak, voice hoarse. She whispers something unintelligible into the pillow. 

“Speak up, love,” he murmurs, gently easing up his hold on the back of her neck. 

“All of you...” she mutters, embarrassment making her cringe, face pressed into the side of her pillow. 

Suddenly Sylus spots her bleeding lip, and his brows furrow for a moment. His hands scoop her up so that she’s positioned up off the pillow, on her knees, his chest to her back and arms securely around her waist. He uses one hand to tilt her chin up and to the side. “You’re bleeding, honey. Bit your lip?”

“What does it look like,” she responds gruffly, still not wanting to give him the pleasure of agreeable answers. His thumb skates across her bottom lip, dabbling in the blood there. She winces. “Were you trying to be quiet?” he murmurs, examining his thumb that’s now flecked with her blood. 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, leaning down to kiss her softly, the metallic acrid tang of blood mixing between both their tongues. “Don’t do that,” he whispers softly into her lips. “I don’t want you to be quiet. You know that’s not what I like.” 

The moment is more intimate than the previous ones they’ve shared tonight, and for a moment she softens a bit, her heart giving an uncomfortable fluttery lurch at his kiss, at his gently murmured words. But the moment is gone quickly, and his hand finds the back of her neck again, fingers pressing into her skin. “Remind me of your choice?” He says through clenched teeth. 

“All.. all of you...” she says through a soft gasp. His face is so close to hers that all she can see is the slope of his jaw and a burning eye that’s trained on her bottom lip. 

He nods curtly, and then lays her back into the mattress, her face finding the pillow again, her back arching as he nudges her knees further apart, his own legs coming between hers. As she hears the sound of his belt buckle unfastening and his low, deep breaths, she feels the shame and regret already churning in her stomach as she lies there, spread and prostrate, waiting.

“Don’t think about him,” Sylus says darkly, as if he’s reading her mind. She feels his large, muscular hands grip her waist, as if to steady her mind, to bring her back to earth, back to this moment. “He’s not here right now. Think about me.”

She stifles a moan as his fingers drift between her legs again, spreading her wide open. Her throat feels tight, and her entire body is covered in goosebumps. She trembles in anticipation, unable to deny the feeling. 

“He won’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus snarls, his hand returning to her hips, digging into the flesh. His voice is angry this time, and then her eyes blow wide as he sheaths himself completely inside her in one sharp thrust. A strangled sound tears itself from her throat, a sound she hasn’t made in a long time. He stays there, back hunching over her, his arms shaking, his knuckles white as his fingers press bruises into the skin of her waist and hips. 

He starts, his pace brutal, and she can immediately detect something in the way he thrusts, in the way his hands are so rough as they move up to her breasts, gripping her from behind. Rage. His hips snap against her, sending nearly painful daggers of pleasure through her belly. She gasps each time he pistons in and out of her, unable to see him behind her, face still pressed into the pillow. “He can’t make you feel beautiful like this..” Sylus spits between grunts as he buries himself deep, again, again, again...

“Sylus,” she chokes out, eyes hazy with pleasure, the world around her vignetting, falling dramatically out of focus. “I want to see you-- let me turn over--” she babbles. 

He pulls out with a harsh grunt, and then flips her over onto her back at her request. She takes him in fully now, eyes raking over him, torso bare and sweater discarded on the nearby couch, his pants at his knees, his face contorted in a mess of lust and fury, glasses slipping lower and lower on his nose. It might be the most upset she’s ever seen him look, even more upset than when they’d broken up.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says harshly, gripping her hips again and aligning himself with her dripping entrance. 

“Like what--ah!” She hisses as he enters her, cutting the conversation short. He resumes his unrelenting pace, coming down to his elbows, inches of space between them as he ruts into her.

“Like you’re fucking examining me--” he sneers between thrusts. She protests, her hands finding his shoulders as she’s pulled deeper and deeper into pleasure. “I’m not examining-- hah... I’m just looking at y-” 

His hand clamps over her mouth. “Don’t talk,” he snarls. Her eyes widen. Something’s snapped in him, his demeanor different, whatever cold exterior he’d managed to build cracking undeniably now, revealing the twisted feelings layered underneath. His muscles ripple with unrestrained emotions, and sweat beads on his brow as he snaps his hips into her. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” he mutters. “I don’t want to hear that I look like shit. I don’t want to hear you ask me why I’m angry as if it’s some fucking surprise to you.” With each thrust it’s somehow more intense, the friction and heat between them growing exponentially. Her hands find his hips as he pistons into her, scrambling for purchase on flesh that’s now slick with sweat. “Of course I’m fucking angry,” he hisses. They’re face to face, inches apart. “I’m angry that-- you’re gone-- I can’t--” he lets out a strained noise that sounds almost like he’s in pain, his abs clenching as he holds himself back. “He can’t make you feel like this... he can’t...” 

His hand is still clamped over her mouth, and she breathes through her nose, the restriction of air making her heart speed up with adrenaline. He fucks her deep, and it takes more of a toll on him than she knows it should. The way he’s sweating, the way his face is still twisted with anger and anguish and desire, the way his free hand grips her waist possessively as he ruts into her-- it’s not the physical exertion making him act like this. He’s genuinely upset in a way that he’s never let her see before. “Sylus,” she pants, her orgasm building deep in her core, like a coil of fire. As if the noise triggers his memory that his hand is still over her mouth, he removes it suddenly, holding her waist instead. He looks away briefly, eyes finding where their bodies connect instead, eyes black with lust as he thrusts into her. She can see the way he’s starting to go quiet, the way his rhythm is staggering. She knows he’s close too. 

“Do you still love me?” He blurts out, still not meeting her eyes. 

She doesn’t expect the question, and she doesn’t know how to respond. She evaluates a thousand possible answers at once, her brain overloaded with pleasure and confusion. 

His head falls, weak, as he continues rutting into her. “P-please...” he says, his voice breaking. 

She’s stunned. Almost as a reflex, she sits up a bit, gaze lacing with a newfound concern. “Sy...?”

“Say it,” he groans, his pace becoming more erratic, the unpredictability of it driving new spikes of pleasure through her. “Say you--”

“I love you,” she whispers softly, before she can stop herself. “I love you, Sylus.”

His body hunches over as he comes, as if on command at her words, and her own orgasm follows quickly, her hands seizing the sheets for a moment in a brutal grip before latching on his waist again. She gasps, holding him close, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as she feels his warmth fill her, feels his body jerk with exertion and pleasure. Her hands find his face, cupping his jaw as he weakly thrusts himself through the aftershocks, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself upright over her. 

The moment flickers with a liminal quality, and she feels like she’s trapped in limbo, some hellish purgatory of confused emotions. She’s said those words she can’t take back now, and now the two of them are floating in the dead space, less than lovers, a lot more than friends. He’s weak in her arms now, completely undone, whatever mask he once wore in pieces, ground to dust under the weight of her confession. He lies there atop her for a minute that feels like an hour, as she strokes his hair, confused by her own tenderness but unable to hold it back. And then he tears himself away from her. He’s buttoning his pants, pulling on his sweater, wiping a wrist across his brow and readjusting his glasses. It’s as if they hadn’t done what they just did, like they’re strangers again. She lies there almost in shock still, attempting to cut through the foggy haze of afterglow and form more coherent thoughts.

“I have to go,” he mutters under his breath, his voice still betraying some of the turmoil in him. It’s softer than he usually sounds, and more uncertain. 

At his words, she snaps out of it. “Wait,” she blurts. “We-- we need to talk about this. You can’t just go after that!”

“I have to.” He says quickly, organizing his messy hair in the mirror. “Don’t have time.”

“Don’t have the time?!” She says incredulously. “You can’t treat this like some one night stand!”

“I never said that,” he mutters, looking at her. His eyes drift down her body, to her entrance, staring at the evidence of their encounter. She flushes, clamping her legs shut. Sylus clears his throat. “I never said it was,” he repeats. “I... I’ll call you. We can talk later.”

“When later?” she says hoarsely.

“When I can,” he replies, tone smoother now, regaining his usual  impassioned quality. She notices, and it pisses her off. “You can’t just do what you always do,” she snaps. “You can’t just run away again and act cold. Like this doesn’t matter.”

He pauses in the doorway, and exhales a small sigh. “It matters,” he says quietly. 

And then he’s gone.

[spacerockfloater]

Alicent and Criston have every right to be together.

I’ve read a lot of posts regarding their non-existent hypocrisy and I’d like to clear some things up.

First and foremost, stop using Alicent’s “Where is duty, where is sacrifice?” line against her or Nyra’s outrageous “Exhausting, wasn’t it?” speech because you think you’re eating when you’re, in fact, starving. Alicent has done her duty and sacrificed herself. It’s the only thing she’s been doing for the past 20 years. She gave the man she was forced to marry four children and she took care of him despite all the shit he put her through. She has lived all her life based on her principles and now her husband is gone. She mourned him, she buried him, it’s been more than 10 days since his death (confirmed that E1 S2 takes place 10 days after Lucerys’ death) and she is finally fucking free. She deserves a sliver of comfort. Alicent is the only one in this series that’s been faithful and dutiful to a T, yet look where that got her. If someone has the right to break the law a little bit, it’s definitely her.

That being said, I don’t know when it was decided that Alicent is a pious saint that can do no wrong, but I need to remind y’all that following a religion does not magically prevent you from sinning. Is she committing fornication? Obviously. However, you are all under this impression that this is hypocritical on her behalf because she berated Rhaenyra for it when they were younger, without considering that her anger was justified for a myriad of other reasons, such as (but not limited to): 1) the fact that Rhaenyra���s freedom to marry whomever she pleased was a privilege granted to her thanks to Alicent’s efforts, who supported her even if Rhaenyra hated her, yet her friend casually threw that away, 2) the fact that Rhaenyra lied to her by swearing on her morher’s grave and never even mentioned Criston, 3) the fact that Rhaenyra had the guts to call her “sister” while lying to her face, 4) the fact that her lies resulted in Otto getting fired since Rhaenyra misled Alicent so that she speaks to Viserys in favour of her friend and betraying her own father by siding against him (a decision she wouldn’t have made if she knew the truth), leaving her completely alone and friendless at court, even if he was right all along and finally 5) the fact that Rhaenyra is the most sought after bachelorette in the whole world and by having sex she undermines herself (Rhaenyra knows this well, hence why she denies these accusations) and literally endangers herself, because had she been married to any other man but Laenor and had this man found out his wife and future queen is not a virgin, imagine the fucking horrors she could have been subjected to. Like, I hate to break it to you, but a 40-year-old widow, who’s had four kids and has completed her duty to the point where she is actually no longer needed and could leave the palace to go live the rest of her life in peace somewhere else and no one would notice her absence (literally though, she has birthed heirs, her husband is dead, her son is a grown adult king, her job is done there), having sex, is not the same as an 18-year-old princess and future heir in her prime, whose purity is linked to her worth, getting caught drunk in a brothel, hooking up with her uncle and losing her virginity to her guard, all in one night. Viserys himself was outraged. There’s lows and then there’s lows, y’all.

By the way, the crazy assumptions that Alicent has been cheating on Viserys with Criston for a while now need to stop. When Olivia Cooke said that they had filmed a messy sex scene with Fabien Frankel in a recent interview, she never said this was for S1 of HOTD. I don’t know where y’all got that from, but even if it was true, that scene has been scrapped so it is not canon. And don’t make me laugh about Daeron, a dragon rider who canonically has Valyrian features, potentially having brown hair. You’re all so blinded by your hatred for Alicent that you want her to be a lying hypocrite in order to make yourselves feel better about Rhaenyra’s mishaps, that you don’t get that the whole point of her and Criston getting physical is that she is a tortured woman who is finally able to break free, not that she has been a hypocrite all along. You’re heavily misunderstanding her arc.

Finally, when it comes to my good man Criston, y’all have lost it completely. No, Alicent is not raping him, unless he tells her to stop and she closes the door behind her like Rhaenyra did that is. No, Criston did not lie about how important his honour is to him. There’s a whole article on how Clare Kilner, the director of E4 S1, decided that Cole removing his armour slowly was necessary because it symbolises his inner conflict and uncertainty over breaking his vow: should he soil his cloak for the sake of the woman he loves? And he does soil it, because he thinks she loves him back. But that honourable man dies the day Rhaenyra tells him that he’ll never be anything more than a side piece to her. This man stops giving a flying fuck about his honour, oath, position and life. He is trying to kill himself. And you know what stops him? Alicent. Alicent is the only thing between him and death, the only person to show him kindness and understanding, to pull him up from the lowest point in his life. I don’t think you heard Alicent in E7 S1: “No, you’re sworn to me!”. Y’all. His life is hers. He doesn’t care about Rhaenyra, his job, Viserys, anyone else at this point. Only Alicent exists in his mind, Fabien himself has said time and time again that his loyalty to her is unwavering. He only exists for Alicent’s sake. He’s who you wish Daemon was. Crying that “Criston is a bad knight and a liar because he broke his chastity oath yet again!” is so pointless because that knight has been dead since Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. What does an oath mean when you find out the people you swore it to have betrayed you? Why should he keep his promise to the people who abused him?

[chubbycelebs]

Fame Greedy

Jeremy Sumpter was stood on the set of a new advert he had been signed up to by his agent. After his successful childhood in films, Jeremy struggled to break free of his past and become a serious actor now he was older. He could never land movies despite his incredible body and devotion to the roles. He was becoming frustrated with his situation. After he finished filming the advert for the day he stomped back to his hotel room and slammed the door in frustration. What more do people want. Jeremy went for a shower to cool off and when he walked out of the bathroom with a white towel around his waist he saw his agent sat on his bed. “Jesus Adam warn me next time I could’ve been naked” Jeremy said jumping slightly as he realised just how naked he was. “Oh I don’t mind Jeremy just ignore me whilst you get ready. There’s some things I wanna run past you” Adam, his agent said to him. Jeremy started to get changed. As said before he has a pretty perfect body so he wasn’t embarrassed when he dropped his towel in front of his agent to pulled on some white briefs. “So I know you are frustrated by doing adverts all the time and I think I’ve figured a way to change your direction” Adam said scrolling through his phone trying to find something. “Oh please anything is better than doing these pissing adverts” Jeremy chimed in now pulling on some jeans. “Well you see there’s been a role open up and they want you specifically.” Adam put his phone down and looked at Jeremy as he pulled on a tight shirt that showed off his toned body. “Omg no way! That’s amazing I’m so down!” Jeremy said cracking a smile. “Well there’s a catch you see. They want you but they want you to erm bulk up a bit…”

“what do you mean? How much?” Jeremy said becoming a little skeptical. “Well they didn’t give a maximum number but they said at least 60 lbs.”

“60 lbs!!!! If I gained that I’d be fat?!? Are you sure?” Jeremy said shocked by this number. “Well Jeremy they kind of want that. You see your playing a gamer for this movie and they want a big guy so they asked for you to do this…”

“Jesus christ. Well I guess I can always lose it after the film. Fine I’ll do it. Go get me some food then” Jeremy said standing up pacing around his hotel room. Was he really about to do this? He worked hard for his perfect body just to get roles and now they want him fat? I guess 60 lbs isn’t life changing. I could definitely lose that he said to him self.

Every day now Jeremy would wake up and start eating and wouldn’t stop until he passed out from a food coma. He loved eating cakes and pies and fast food. He thought there could be worse things to do. Just being told to sit on his arse and stuff his face with crap wasn’t so bad. Some days he even enjoyed lying around in his tight briefs stuffing his gut.

He started to feel his body soften as time went on. His abs melted into a soft belly that was bulging outwards. As he sat rolls formed on his body. He looked down and poked them. His finger sinking deeper into his gut was kind of intriguing. He’d never been this soft it was interesting finally letting go. It was also so easy that he started to enjoy it. He made games for him self to try and eat as much as possible. He would gain these 60 lbs in no time.

6 months had passed and the 60 lbs of fat he was asked to gain was sitting softly on his body. His body looked like it had melted away into lard. His once fit body was now replaced with a body of someone who’s lazy and unable to stop eating. Jeremy had to admit, yes he was concerned to start with but he really enjoyed the process. He loved eating and over eating. He loved sitting and doing nothing all day. And truthfully he enjoyed the extra weight on his body.

He was asked for a screen test so the ex jock actor came into the studio and got ready for the screen test. He was asked to sit in just white briefs and to sit in the set built for the movie. The camera and sound crew were all set up and ready. The director calls action and Jeremy started acting the first scene. The scene was asking Jeremy to lay on the sofa with a bag of crisps on his belly and eating the whole bag whilst a video game plays in the background. He admitted that he thought there’d be some lines to say but he happily just laid back and stuffed his belly. The director yelled cut and asked for Jeremy to come to his office. “Everything alright?” Jeremy asked the director as he entered the office still in his costume. “Jeremy my boy look at you. You look amazing. Thank you for your devotion to the project” the director said placing his hands on the sides of Jeremy’s belly. Jeremy couldn’t help but feel proud of his gain. “You see though. When envisioning the character we thought he would be well fatter. He’s a really lazy greedy character and you just look a bit chubby. We want some really mass on you.” Jeremy was a little taken a back. He felt like a lard arse already but maybe this wasn’t enough. “Alright then. I’ll erm gain some more for you then.”

“Amazing thank you Jeremy. You are gonna be one big star one day!” Jeremy walked back to his hotel room his belly rumbling. He plopped him self down on his bed. He caught a glimpse of him self in the mirror opposite his bed. He pulled off his shirt and looked at his bulging belly, the rolls that replaced his abs. He had never thought he’d get this fat but now he was gonna have to get fatter. He called for room service and huge trolly of food came to his room. He’s gonna enjoy these next few months of stuffing.

Every month Adam came round to check on Jeremy and make sure he was making progress. He would make Jeremy strip down and show his fat body. He took measurements of every part of his expanding body.

“Wow you really are packing on the pounds huh big guy?!” Adam said patting Jeremy’s belly. “I just need this role Adam. I’ve gotta show I’m serious about this. Plus it’s not hard being a lazy slob all the time anyway” Jeremy walked over to the trolly of food and stuffing in a burger. “Well you sure are a lazy slob.” Jeremy looked around at Adam as he said this. “See you next month chubs!” Adam walked out of his hotel room. That’s when Jeremy felt the hot pulse of horniness in his tight underwear. Did he enjoy Adam fat shaming him? Something about being called a lazy slob and chubs made his dick stand to attention. Maybe this fat body wasn’t bad at all. In some ways it’s actually better maybe…

A year had passed Jeremy never stop eating. He never did exercise. And never wanted to lose the weight. He awoke one morning and pulled on a tight white vest and his usual white briefs. He looked at him self. His round fat gut was huge now and hung out of his white vest. His underwear barely fit his fat figure now. He pulled up a photo of him self from last year and was so pleased to see how his body had changed. What a lard arse he had turned into. He remembers being told about this role and vowing to lose the weight after he finished but. Kw he was this huge, he never wanted to go back to his fit old self. If anything he wanted to be bigger. That evening filming started for the film. Every scene had Jeremy stuffing and eating him self silly. For months the director had him stuffed with food on camera. He had very little lines and spent the whole time being a hog on set. All this pigging out lead to him to gain even more weight and by the end of filming, the old fit boy had transformed into a huge round lard filled fatty.

Jeremy!! So good to see you big guy!” Adam came in on the last day of filming. He was met with the sight of a morbidly obese Jeremy. “You look huge!” Adam said as he hugged the greedy actor and placed hands on his belly. “Adam what actually is this film? All I’ve done is eat and be a fat pig for months. Why is that?” Jeremy said with a grin looking at Adam who had his hands on Jeremy’s fat gut. “Oh you see I was gonna say but I just kept forgetting. You see there’s a load of people who really enjoy seeing fit men get fat so me and the director thought you’d be perfect. We’ve been filming you for well over a year as you’ve grown into the man you are today. It’s like a documentary all about how you’ve turned into such a huge hog. And it’s gonna be a smash hit!”

Jeremy looked at Adam and couldn't help but smile. “You better sign me up for the sequel to this film then Adam”

“Don’t worry. The presale for this movie is already insane so you’ll be back. You’ll be along side Tom Holland as well next time!” “Oh I can’t wait to see how that goes…”

Based on the recent images I’ve posted on Jeremy Sumpter I decided to write a story with some images along side them. Hope you guys enjoy this story of the growing actor. Hopefully his fame will out weight him one day!

[harryslittlefreakk]

too sweet

summary: essentially porn with little plot… or .. when her boss decides that letting her go is in her best interests, y/n decides to show him exactly what he’s missing out on.

warnings: swearing, light angst, smut (rough sex, oral m receiving, slight domrry) also don’t ask me how he can receive oral if she’s on the desk ?? it just happened

wordcount: 2.8k

a/n: much like the rest of the world, i can’t stop listening to too sweet :) and to me it has ceorry written all over it!! as always please let me know if you enjoyed!! I really want to start trying my hand at more tropes and aus so please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see!!!

my masterlist & taglist can be found here 💖 love you

“Mr Styles, I-”

“I promise you, sweetheart. It’s not a set back, it’s just-”

“I can show you, please.” You were begging and pleading like this job hadn’t been draining the life out of you for months now. You knew that Harry was right, but you didn’t want to, couldn’t, accept another failure.

“Listen.” His words were stern but his face was soft as he reached over the table, placing a ringed hand over the top of yours. “It’s not personal. To succeed in this business you need grit. No one ever got to the top without a hint of cunt, me included.”

He held up his free hand as you opened your mouth, silencing you before the words had even begun to form. “You are special. You don’t have that mean streak, and I refuse to be the one to manufacture it within you. I will find a spot in this company for you, shift people around if I have to. You need to find a role that grows with you, not one that will tear you down.”

You nodded slowly, speechless as his words sunk in. How can you be fired for being too nice? Not cunty enough? You tugged your hand away from Harry’s as if it burned you, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Is this because of the cakes?” you asked, cringing as you thought back to all the nice things you’d done around the office. If you weren’t supposed to be nice, why not put that in the job description? Under requirements: IT skills, maths degree, asshole.

Harry laughed, leaning back in his seat as he grinned at you. “In a way, I guess it is because of the cakes. Just trust me, okay? This is for the best. I’d never forgive myself if I turned you into a monster. Finance is a cut-throat world,” he finished, staring out into the office.

When he didn’t say anymore, you stood up, smoothing out your skirt across your thighs. “Thank you for your time, Mr Styles. I’ll wrap up my work and send it over to you, I assume you won’t need me past lunch?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you y/n,” he smiled, nodding as you turned away.

“Dick,” you muttered, pulling the door closed behind you. You could hardly rant and rave to his face, especially after repeatedly hearing how nice you are, but you were inwardly seething. Treating your colleagues like shit would be a good reason to get fired, treating your clients like shit would be a better one. But to be too kind? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make sense to you, but it was still downright unfair. You had grit, and you’d show him.

You sat silent and dignified until the office left for lunch, wrapping up with the clients you had and sending the remainder to Harry. No one stayed past lunch on a Friday, so the second the last stragglers left, you rushed to the Harry’s office door. You had no game plan, except for bursting in and proving him wrong. Only, as soon as you were about to reach out and knock on the door, it swung open. “Y/n.”

“I have grit,” you told him, slipping past him into his office. It was all you could think to say.

“I-”

“Close the door please,” you motioned your head towards Harry’s seat, signalling for him to sit back down. He was frozen in the doorway, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “I have grit,” you repeated, gaze following Harry as he pushed the door closed and circled back around his desk.

“You said that,” he sniggered, loosening his grey tie as he watched you pace around the office. “If I didn’t have grit,” you started, willing something entirely different to come out your mouth, knowing that it wouldn’t. “I wouldn’t mention that I know you spent the entire Christmas party in here with Stephanie. With the door locked. And I wouldn’t mention that I’ve noticed the way you look at me,” you finished, eyes glued to the skyline behind Harry’s head.

His jaw clenched a few times, his hands flexing against the wood of his desk. “Good point,” he murmured, his expression totally unreadable as he looked at you. “Come and sit down.”

You padded over tentatively, fingertips gripping the back of the chair as you pulled it out in front of you.

“Not there.” He pushed his chair back, tapping on the wood between his hands.

“What are you-” you started, gaze darting between Harry’s icy stare and your feet, dragging themselves the short distance to Harry’s desk.

“You came here to show me you have grit, no?”

You nodded, heart in your throat as you perched on the edge. “How were you going to show me?” he continued, his eyes unrelenting in their pursuit of weakness within you.

You knew what your game-plan was, but you weren’t expecting Harry to catch on and call your bluff. His voice was muffled by the blood pounding in your ears, your jaw tight as you tried to remain composed under his watch. He leaned back when you stayed silent, one eyebrow raising slightly as his gaze raked down your body. “What were you going to do, y/n?” he asked again, hooking one foot around yours to pull your legs open.

A tiny gasp falling from your lips was the only sound you made, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Harry reached forward, pushing your skirt up around your hips until he saw a flash of your red panties. “I think,” he started, fingertips trailing down your exposed thigh. “You were going to show me that sweet little cunt, show me what it can do. Am I right?” he continued, satisfied as he looked at the trail of goosebumps his touch had left.

You nodded again, eyes fluttering closed in a bid to expel some of the anticipation creeping through your core. “Use your words,” Harry muttered, tugging on your thighs until you landed in his lap.

You opened your eyes, inches away from his face as he splayed a hand across your lower back. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, a shiver running down your spine. His cock twitched beneath your core at the name, his eyes dark.

“From this moment onwards, anything that happens within these walls is between us. Do you understand?” Harry asked, his voice husky and yet somehow softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Of course,” you replied, hoping your eyes communicated the sincerity that your words couldn’t.

Harry placed his free hand on your hip, pushing you down slightly until his firm cock bulged against your entrance.

“What are you and your grit going to do about this then?” he smirked, his fingertips digging into your clothed flesh. You almost choked on the lump in your throat, eyes bulging as you shifted on top of Harry’s girth. His stare was like a challenge, daring you to retreat or prove yourself wrong. But you’d gone too far to back down now, so you swallowed the first taste of tomorrow’s regret and locked your eyes on his, rolling your hips across his lap before stepping off of him.

You answered his questioning frown by sitting back on your heels between his legs, reaching forward with a tentative hand to palm him over his trousers. Harry let you feel him for a second, before swatting you away to unzip his slacks and push them down his thighs.

From the moment you’d first met him, you knew Harry was objectively hot. He was attractive in the same way a friend’s dad would be - enough to appreciate but too out of reach for it to be any more than that. But now as you stared up at him, the strained fabric of his Calvins tight against the cock he was about to fuck your face with, he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Harry tugged the waistband of his boxers down, only enough to set his length free, grabbing hold of your wrist. “No one is to know,” he growled, waiting for your confirmation before guiding your hand to his length.

“No one, sir,” you murmured, pressing your parted lips to the side of his shaft as he pulled his hand away.

“Good girl,” was all Harry could manage as your pout wrapped around his tip, your tongue swirling across the nerves. You let your saliva drip down him, rubbing it across his skin with an unsteady yet firm hand. It felt dirty, transactional almost as if he might let you stay if you performed well enough for him. But you knew you didn’t want that, and he wouldn’t want you working for him once you’d milked his cock for all it had.

You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your mouth away from him, your hand still working up and down his length. Your gaze darted up to meet his, the hunger in his eyes unlike anything you’d seen before. He was almost animalistic, something feral juxtaposed in his features as he watched you silently, frozen in place. You willed yourself to look away as you bent further down, poking out your tongue to lick a wet line along his cock, but you couldn’t focus on anything but Harry’s face. Your arousal was pooling between your thighs, a breathy moan tumbling past your lips as you took more of him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You couldn’t take him all, not even close, so your hands worked at the rest of him, one wrapped around his base while the other found his balls, squeezing them gently as your cheeks tightened against his girth. Harry let out a small groan, his first display of your mouth having any effect on him, his hand instinctively tangling into your hair as if he’d been here with you before.

He used his grip to hold your head steady, directing your mouth up and down his length. His cock was knocking into the back of your throat, your whimpers mixing with groans and splutters, until he stopped suddenly, pushing back in his chair until there was distance between the two of you. You were too much, the sight of your pout wrapped around his tip too much for him to take.

“Up,” he demanded, placing a protective hand over the edge of the desk to save you knocking your head. You pulled yourself up to meet where he stood, resting against the desk to take the weight off your shaky legs. Harry’s thumb swiped across your jaw, his eyes fixed on your face. Your swollen red pout, your heavy-lidded eyes, mascara gathered under your lower lashes. You looked a fucking mess, and he was loving every second of it.

He bent down slightly, fingers slipping under your skirt to hook around the side of your panties. He pulled them off, helping you to raise both feet, before stuffing them into the pocket of his slacks.

“Turn around,” Harry murmured, nodding as you obeyed him. His fingers trailed across your hips, pushing on your back until your stomach hit the wood of his desk.

You let out a whimper as he pressed a hand between your legs, his fingertips dancing across your skin until they met your entrance, hot and sticky and so ready for him. Harry swiped a finger through your folds, a tiny chuckle the only sound he made as you squirmed, his free hand splayed across your back, keeping you pinned down. “Got yourself all worked up f’me, huh?” he drawled, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, too overcome with need to form any words. Harry pressed into you, collecting your juices on his tip before pushing himself inside, eyes screwed shut as your walls constricted around him. Your whimpers turned into a string of expletives, his girth too much for you to take. “Tight little cunt, all for me,” Harry whispered, stilling inside of you now that he’d bottomed out. His hands were digging into the skin of your ass, your curves engulfing the base of his cock. “All for you,” you panted, desperately trying to find something to grip on to, something to steady you while Harry tore you in two.

He pulled back, mouth hanging open as he watched himself emerge from your pretty pink lips, his length already smothered in your juices. He wanted to resist, to be gentle with you, but your cunt was begging him to destroy it, to instil in it some of the grit you claimed to have. It was between his head and his heart, yet Harry could only think with his cock.

He slammed into you hard, your hips knocking against the edge of his desk, the contents of his drawers rattling as he drilled into you. His office was far from sound proof, and any stragglers left in the building would hear nothing but your cries and screams as he rocked his hips into yours, his cock hitting every inch of you. But that only spurred him on further, the thrill of your pleasure coursing through his veins. He landed a blow on the curve of your ass, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he watched the red hand print appear, the skin bouncing with every snap of his hips.

“Fuck, Har- fuck,” you cried, breathless as Harry slammed his hips into yours before pulling out completely. He grabbed at your waist, tugging at your dress for you to turn over. “I need to see you,” he growled, eyes completely darkened when you turned to face him. You’d never seen him with as much as a hair out of place, yet now he looked possessed by his own lust. He was messy, curls hanging down his forehead and a blush to his cheeks, shirt half unbuttoned.

He circled around your clit as you looked him up and down, eyes never leaving yours. “Taking me like a fucking good girl,” he whispered, pushing back into your entrance.

“I can’t- please, sir,” you whimpered, chest heaving as he continued fucking into you with the same ferocity as before. Between his cock, his fingers, his face, you were coming apart. He was twitching inside of you with every moan that left your lips, his own climax creeping up as quickly as yours was. He stilled for a moment, his fingers never ceasing as they rubbed pleasure into your nerves. “You can, and you will. Come for me,” he urged, grabbing a hold of your waist as he thrust into you, each snap of his hips pushing you closer to the edge.

“I’m, fuck-” was all you could cry, your mouth falling open as you shook and writhed under him, his words coaxing out an orgasm stronger than you’d ever imagined. Your eyes brimming with tears, brows knitted as you cried out, hips bucking into the palm of his hand. Harry slowed down slightly, seconds between each thrust as he worked you through your high, your cream coating every inch of his thick cock.

The second you stilled, he slipped his hand under your back, pulling you up to sit as he pulled his cock from you. Harry dragged a thumb across your bottom lip, smirking at your tiny pout as you felt the emptiness in your cunt. “Open up,” he whispered, replacing his thumb with his tip, pushing it past your lips as he worked his hand up and down the length.

You took him into your mouth for the second time that day, the mix of your juices like sweet nectar against your tongue. You were dizzy from your climax, every inch of your core on fire from the sheer brutality of his cock, your walls still pulsing. Harry was grunting and groaning, even his moans husky as he twitched between your lips, his jaw tensing as he came undone, hot cum shooting to the back of your throat.

He held a hand to the nape of your neck, grounding himself as he bucked into you, filling you up at a much faster rate than you could swallow. “Good girl,” he cooed, letting you lick every last drop of cum from his tip before he pulled away, sinking down into his chair as his hand dropped down your body.

You leaned your arms back against the desk, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to catch your breath, the stinging of your entrance doubled by the sudden lack of touch.

Harry kept watching you, still under your spell, unable to will his eyes away as you panted. “You have grit,” he whispered, a glimmer in his eye. “But I can’t let you work for me after that.”

“As long as you know I have grit, Mr. Styles,” you smirked, rolling your head down to look at him again.

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @harrystylesluverrrr @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r @stylesfever

[hockeyboysimagines]

Summer Heat

Pairings: Matt Rempe x Female reader

I know I said I’d never write for him, but I’m trying something new for the new year. He’s grown on me, and I wanted to shake up my blog a little bit. Please be nice. I’m treading unfamiliar waters here.

Let me know what you guys think!

Warnings: Drug consumption(weed), mentions of drinking, skinny dipping, nudity, kissing, sex, references to sex

The music was pounding so loud it was making your chest hurt as you made your way through the house, sidestepping a puddle of liquid you hoped was alcohol and left the kitchen. Sweaty bodies of people you’d known for years were laughing, dancing, toasting and doing keg stands in every corner of the room and you smiled a little as you watched it.

Summer was arguably the best time of the year here at home. Everyone was suddenly free of plans and responsibilities, and parties erupted at the drop of a hat. What had started as a casual hangout with just a few people had evolved into a rager and you were having a great fucking time.

“Hey!” You turned in time to receive a giant ass slap from Darcy, your best friend as she came up behind you “I’ve been looking for you for ages. Where were you?”

“In the bathroom…” you trailed off, reaching in your pocket and glancing over your shoulder as you pulled out a joint, twirling it between your fingers “Wanna take a walk.”

“Hell yeah I do come on.” She followed you out the back door and off the deck, weaving in and out of people and heading past the rows of cars till you reached your own and the two of you huddled behind it.

You gripped it between your fingers as she flicked the lighter and lit it. The embers glowed bright orange in the darkness as you took a drag, inhaling and handed it to her so she could do the same. As she took her own hit and blew out the cloud of smoke you heard a voice.

“DEA hands up.”

You both turned, joint still in her hand and came face to face with a waist, eyes moving up till they landed on a face. A familiar face.

Matt Rempe.

“Damn. I think you got taller.” You said with a small laugh and a cough.

“Nah that’s just the weed talking.” He said with a chuckle, stretching an arm out and tapping his fingers together at the blunt. Darcy passed it to him and let out a long exhale of smoke.

“I didn’t know you were back.” She said glancing over at you.

Your relationship with him was weird. While you were pretty good friends, it had always been on the verge of something else. It would become intensely flirtatious for several days and then fizzle out. Each time it happened it got flirtier and filthier than the last and Darcy swore this time was when it was going to blossom, and then nothing happened. When he returned home, and you saw him again, both of you acted like it never happened the next time you saw him. It wasn’t even a situationship. More like a flirtationship. You’d never even kissed the guy, though you wanted to, but at this point it had been going on since highschool and it was getting a little bit old. Either he liked you or he didn’t, but days of flirting and then nothing at 22 was just annoying. After the last time, in which several photos and vulgarities had been exchanged and then he faded out of your life, again, you swore to Darcy over a Vodka Cranberry, that you were done with him romantically, sexually and flirtatiously forever. Realistically though, the three of you had the same circle of friends so it wouldn’t be possible to avoid him forever. Sooner or later you would have to see him. You had just hoped it wouldn't be this soon.

“Yeah aren’t you supposed to be in jail or something?” You said with a snarky smile. You weren’t saying it to be funny. You were saying it to be rude and Darcy knew it based on the small giggle she let out. You weren’t about to tell him you’d been keeping tabs on his season, but you had. He’d made quite the impression when he hit the NHL and it was impossible to not see him all over the internet. You would be lying if you hadn’t watched him fighting online multiple times. Even if he lost, it was totally hot.

But you would never EVER tell him that.

“Nah they can’t catch me.” He mumbled, joint between his lips as he took a drag. He blew out the smoke glancing up at the sky and then at you “So what’s up with you? I haven’t heard from you in like 5 months.” He swatted an ash off the end of it before he handed it back to Darcy.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.” You said crossing your arms. Darcy glanced between you and cleared her throat, extinguishing the end of the joint and putting it in her pocket.

“I need to pee. I’ll be back…later.” She sent you a small smile and an arm squeeze as she walked past you “Good to see you Matt.” She called over her shoulder as she made her way up the front yard.

“So?” He asked again “What’s up?” He was looking at you expectantly and you weren’t really sure what he wanted. He knew why he hadn’t heard from you, he just wanted to hear you say it.

You shrugged “Nothing really. Just doing my own thing.”

He frowned “So that means we can’t talk?”

“No. It just means that I’m not waiting around for your week of flirting and dirty talk and then nothing anymore. I’m too old for that and it’s getting tiring.”

He looked clueless “I didn’t know it was a problem. And what dirty talk?” He said with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes “It’s not. But either you like me or you don’t at this point. And come on. How is “I’m going to bend you over and fuck you stupid” not dirty talk?”

Even in the darkness you could see his face turn red and he coughed “Do you think I would flirt with you if I didn’t like you? That’s dumb.” He said leaning down so he was almost at eye level with you.

“Nice aversion. Yeah? Then I guess I’m dumb.” You turned away, annoyed, but he caught you by the elbow, and turned you back around.

“Woah whoa whoa. Why didn’t you just like…ask me.” He was smiling a little “If you wanted to know that’s all you had to do. I thought we could talk about stuff like that.”

“I don’t know. I just felt like if you did you would have made it clearer than just random flirting now and again. You’ve been home. You never made a single attempt to get together while you were here and now you’ve just appeared at a party and I didn’t even know you were home.”

He nodded “Okay. That’s fair. Sorry I guess I just didn’t think you wanted anything out of it.”

“And if I did?” You said raising your chin “Want something?”

He glanced down at your feet and then all the way up, before his eyes landed back on your face and realization lit his eyes up like a lightbulb. Talk about dumb. You leaned forward a little bit, motioning for him to come closer. His lips were almost touching yours when you leaned your head back and stepped away from him, pulling your elbow from his grip.

“I think I’m going to go swimming.” You turned on your heel, making your way down to the lake as quickly as possible to beat him there, knowing he was following, but also forgetting he was a real life giraffe and would likely be right on your heels.

“Wait hey what-“ he called from behind you, but you weren’t waiting around for him to question you further.

You hurried down the crude rock steps, the only sound being the music as it grew more faint and the slap of your flip flops against the ground as you neared the water. It was probably terribly cold, and there was nothing sexy about lake water, but it would have to do for now. Your entire body felt hot and sweaty and you needed to cool down. Plus you had almost kissed him and then chickened out so you needed to actually go swimming now to cover it up and make it seems like you were being coy. The weed had kicked in by now and the edges of your brain felt fuzzy as you neared the water, a haze coming down over your eyes and in an instant your chi was centered and you felt relaxed enough to let your guard down.

As you reached the edge, and kicked your shoes off you turned to find him halfway down the bank.

“Hey how are we going to go swimming if-“ but the words died on his tongue as you looked him in the eye and pulled your shirt over your head and kicked your shorts off, leaving you completely naked. He stood open mouthed, frozen mid step as his eyes loved all the way down to your feet and back up.

“Answer your question?” You called as you hurried into the water, praying to every god imaginable that no one else had seen you besides him. You made it a point to only be naked in front of a limited number of people and as Darcy had seen you naked countless times, and now Matt, two people at one party was enough. The water was frigid and the only thing that kept you from screaming was the fact that your body was on fire from the near kiss and your strip show just seconds prior. What was in that joint. Whatever it was disappeared as the shock of the cold water had sent you straight back into sobriety.

You were already chest deep in the water by the time he reached the waters edge and you turned your back while he undressed, scrunching your eyes shut from the cold before turning around to find he’d paused, shirt half off.

“So you rip your clothing off and then don’t want to watch me do the same? What gives?”

“It’s not fair that you get a great view and I get an average one now is it?” You said turning away from him, legs kicking under the water.

He made a noise of indignation from the bank and then mumbled something too quiet for you to hear. You heard him wade into the water but didn’t turn around until the splashing quieted. When you did, he was waist deep watching as you swam around.

“I can’t figure you out.” He said after a moment, moving forward a little bit.

“What’s the figure out?” You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, gently moving your legs so you were almost floating. The water in your ears was drowning out the music from the party behind you, and the moon was shining down on the water, catching each ripple as it came off of your body moving gently in the water.

“Well I don’t know but you almost just kissed me up there, stripped, now you won’t even look at me. Is this a test?” He asked wading in deeper. He looked confused and for a second you almost felt bad but then you remembered your whole relationship with him was confusing and the pity went away.

“If it was you’d be failing.”

He was closer now, almost up to his shoulders in the water, circling around you like a shark “So you like me right?”

“What makes you think that?” You asked turning to watch him as he made his way in a circle. You stayed low in the water, the end of your ponytail just touching the surface, careful to keep all your vital parts covered.

He looked down at the water and then back up and smiled “I mean. You are naked under there so.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Your legs were burning from treading water and you were hopeful the slimy thing that had just touched your ankle was a fish. Playing coy naked and cold was no easy feat “Darcy’s seen me naked before. That doesn’t make you special.”

“Really?” He said appreciatively eyebrows raised “But you didn’t almost kiss her….wait. Did you?

You shrugged and made a face “I’ll never tell.” As you turned to swim away, you felt an arm slide around your waist and hold you in place. He wasp ressed against you from behind, and any chill you had was gone now. He slid a hand across your waist, and turned you to face him.

The kiss was slow, wet, sloppy and a little bit awkward as he pulled you closer, wet hands and limbs sliding against eachother as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself up to reach him. Kissing him was weird after the build up over the years. Though it was all your expected it to be, you felt like things just weren’t right.

After a moment he pulled away, and looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“That was-“

“Yeah.” You answered, arms still around his shoulders. He had a large hand on either side of your waist and he chewed on his lip.

“Should we try again? You know. For science.”

You giggled and then shivered a little but nodded “Okay. For science.”

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was like you’d figured eachother out now, mouths fitting together perfectly. You gripped the hair that was wet and stuck to his neck, as he ran his tongue along your lower lip. You felt like the water was boiling as his hands moved lower down your back, moving beneath the water to slide under your legs and hoist you up.

Your heart was hammering but before you could do anything further, a sudden breeze reminded you that you were now half out of the water and completely naked.

“Uhm. I’m committing a crime here. It’s called indecent exposure.” You whispered against his mouth. He glanced down and smiled.

“I’d say that’s pretty decent.” He set you down and glanced around to make sure you were still alone.

“Let’s…get out of here. I’ll get your clothes.”

You sank lower in the water and took a large, deep breath eyes closing.

You knew what was coming, and the anticipation of it was making you shiver, or maybe that was the water, or even the weed which you had hoped would chill you out but it hadn’t. Either way you needed a towel, a blanket and a cold drink asap.

“Coast is clear.” He motioned for you to get out and held up his shirt so you could slip your bra and shorts back on and extended a hand to pull you up the bank.

The air still had a little chill in it in mid June as you followed along behind him silently, teeth chattering for a few moments before you asked “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure honestly” he said with a small chuckle and a glance over his shoulder “We could leave I guess. Go somewhere.”

“We can’t go to my house.” You said shaking your head “No boys allowed, and I’m not doing anything in there.” You pointed at the house behind you. You’d accidentally walked in on two hookups before he got there, once in a bedroom and one in the bathroom and while you hoped it had been great for both of them, you didn’t want to be on the other end of that.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes “We’re in our 20s. It’s supposed to be easier to find places to hook up not harder.” He turned to face you now, resting a hand on either shoulder and looked down, running his thumb across your collarbone “We can drive to my apartment, but it’s like 40 minutes from here.”

“Can you wait that long?” You asked arching an eyebrow.

He smiled slowly “No.” He said as he pinned you against the side of the car, hands everywhere as he kissed you heavily. You couldn’t breath, your skin was hot and your shorts were wet in a way that had nothing to do with the lake water you’d never dried off.

“My car. Let’s go to my car.” You gasped out pointing to it and giving him a nudge. You realized then that you were still wearing only a bra and your shorts were unbuttoned and you were standing way out in the open, making out against someone’s car. He leaned around you to look at it, a 4 door Honda and scoffed.

“There’s no way I’m fitting in that backseat.” He said shaking his head “No way.”

“Uhmmmmmm.” You looked around “What about that backseat?” You pointed at Darcy’s SUV that you knew was unlocked. She would let you use it if it meant you were getting laid and she wouldn’t get mad.

And even if she did, you’d get it detailed for her.

“Who’s car is that?” He asked as you pushed him towards it.

“Does it matter? Who cares just get inside.”

“Okay damn.” He said pulling the door open and holding it for you to leaned down and pull the seats down. You felt your shorts slipping down your legs, and you were sure the strap of your thong was hanging out the top of them, so you hoped he was enjoying the show. As you struggled with the lever, you felt him grab either side of your hips and pull you back a little so your ass was against his front. You gasped and jumped, bumping your head on the car door frame, as one of his hands splayed across your lower back.

“What is this?” You half turned to find him staring down at your lower back.

The tattoo

You’d forgotten all about the collection of little flowers that had been inked across the skin of your lower back, right above your thong line.

He glanced between it and you several times before he gave you a push “Get in the car.”

You crawled inside to pull the other one down, and he was on you before you had time to completely pull the lever. You went flying backwards as the lever released and he pushed you back at the same time. Lips moving feverishly against each others he moved over top of you as you backed yourself up to the trunk. The carpet was already giving you rug burn on your elbows. You felt something soft brush against your shoulder and pulled yourself away to glance over.

You giggled “Look at this. She even has a blanket.”

“She’s gonna be the best soccer mom like maybe ever.” He said pushing his hair out of his eyes as you quickly laid it out behind you and turned back to him. He pushed himself up, hissing in pain when he hit his elbow on the back tire casing, before heaving himself forward, foot hitting the seat. He looked annoyed as he finally got comfortable and focused his attention back on you.

He leaned forward, hand sliding over your shoulder to grip the back of your neck and pull you forward. He’s gained some confidence now and any awkwardness there was before was gone. His weight came down on you as he kissed you again, tongue pushing right into your mouth this time. He ground his pelvis into yours causing you to gasp against his mouth, and let out a tiny noise of surprise. He slid a bra strap down your shoulder, long fingers sliding pleasantly across your skin. As you leaned up to move your mouth across the underside of his jaw you were pulled immediately back down.

“Wait your on-my hair hang on-“ you said tapping his elbow.

He moved up and cracked the top of his head on the window with a loud smack “Ow Jesus CHRIST.” He growled frustratedly rubbing the spot as he fell forward, his weight collapsing on you and knocking the wind from your lungs.

You huffed in annoyance, eyes finding his in the darkness “This isn’t working.”

“Your right. We’re gonna have to find a bed.”

“If there’s one you can fit in. Move over, let’s try this.” You wiggled out from under him, taking the opportunity to kick your shorts completely off and pushed him backwards by the shoulders, swinging a leg over him so you straddled his midsection.

He leaned backward, hands coming up to rest on your thighs and glanced upwards. You raised yourself upwards a few times to ensure that your head wouldn’t hit the ceiling before your eyes moved down his torso.

“Take this off.” You breathed out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He was bigger, broader than he had been since the last you’d seen him, and you needed to examine every inch. He had always been long and lanky, but over the course of his season away muscle had started to pad his frame.

He leaned upwards and pulled his shirt over the back of his head, tossing it to the side and leaning up to kiss the underside of your jaw, mouth leaving a wet trail down your neck to your collarbone. His body felt hot against yours and he slid both his hands up your legs to your waist. You fumbled, hands shaking, with the button and the zipper on his shorts, finally springing them open and yanking them down, tossing them playfully at him. He smiled and propped himself up on his elbows to watch you as you kissed the base of his throat, and made you way down his upper body. You glanced up and leaned down, leaving a wet open mouth kiss on his abdomen, never breaking eye contact as you pulled the waistband of his boxers down agonizingly slow.

“Jesus.” He said throwing his head back against the floor of the cargo hold with a soft thump. You pulled them off, over his legs and tossed them in the front seat, making a mental note of where they landed so Darcy didn’t find them later.

“My turn.” He said snapping the band of your thong. You glanced down.

“How are you gonna get those off? You can’t sit up.”

He looked around and frowned “Fuck.” He let his head fall backwards and his hands fell to his sides “I hate this car. You do it. But do it really slow.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up and slid them slowly down your legs till they were at your knees and looked up.

He was staring at them, lips pursed, eyes squinted for several seconds before he looked up at your face “Just you wait till I get us to a bed.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you wiggled them off and made your way back up.

The windows in Darcy’s SUV had started to fog up and you were glad she’d parked so far from the house because the amount of movement the car would be doing in a few minutes would be a dead giveaway as to what was happening inside.

A shiver went from your neck to your lady parts as you swung a leg over him, positioning yourself over him, You took a deep breath, pushing up on your knees before sinking down on him. The sensation of him inside you made your stomach flip sideways and stars explode across your vision for a split second. Your head fell backwards, hair spilling down your back as you braced a hand on the window. You let out a gasp, eyes closing and head falling forward as you lifted yourself up and did it again, going deeper this time. His eyes were closed, fingers gripping the skin on your hips tightly. You began to move up and down, the stretching sensation between your legs was almost overwhelming as you moved slowly. You placed a hand on his lower stomach to steady yourself and he opened his eyes to look up at you as you rocked your hips forward, the other hand braced on the window.

It was a long slow drag of friction that was almost overwhelming. The burn in your abdomen was unbearable, heat pooling in between your legs as you moved up and down. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his chest and your back as the air inside the car became thick and heavy, cold and hot, and your breath could be seen with every movement. Your legs and arms felt heavy, but you weren’t done yet.

“Tired?” He asked, sitting up slightly to palm your lower back.

You nodded and leaned forward on him, using the close proximity to thread your fingers through his hair and tip his head up to kiss you. He put a hand on either side of your waist and pulled you up and then back down, his own hips moving up to meet yours.

You let out a low moan as he did it again, hitting a new even deeper angle than before, digging your nails into the skin on the back of his neck. He moved his mouth across your chest, lips pressing lightly against your sternum as he helped you move up and down his length faster. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled your face down to his “Look at me.” He breathed as your orgasm hit you full force, you let out a strangled cry and your eyes slid closed, breath coming out in gasps.

You were spent, exhausted, and overheated, vision fuzzy as you leaned forward forehead resting on his shoulder. You could feel his heart beating and let out a long breath, looking up at him. He was smiling and reached a hand out to grip the side of your face, thumb stroking across your cheek.

“I told you I was gonna fuck you stupid.”

Your mouth fell open and you slapped his chest, kissing him on the cheek and easing off him. He reached into the front, grabbed the clothing and you both awkwardly got dressed in the small confines of the car without speaking. He got out first, glanced around and extended a hand for you to get out as well.

“I should find Darcy.” You said straightening your shorts out and smoothing your shirt.

He nodded and leaned against the side of Darcy’s car “What are you doing later?”

You pulled your phone out and checked the time “It’s 12:30.”

“And?” He said staring at you blankly.

“Nothing I guess. Why?”

“Come over.” He said with a smile.

“To do what?”

He just smiled and kissed your cheek before turning and making his way towards where his car was parked some feet away.

“Hey!” You called “Did you just come here to hook up with me and then leave.”

He smiled and shrugged “I’ll never tell. See you later.” He called as he disappeared into the darkness. You watched him leave, turning in time to see Darcy making her way over.

“There you are. Did you and him talk things out?”

“Oh. Yeah you could say that.” You trailed off.

“Have you been here at my car this whole time?” She was frowning as she watched his car pull out of the driveway and make its way down the street.

“Mhmm. So about your car…” you said clearing your throat, looking at her with a guilty expression.

Her frown disappeared and she looked at her suspiciously “You didn’t.”

“Oh we did.”

“Yeah right.” She said waving you off with a small laugh. When you didn’t say anything her smile faded “Your kidding. No? Not kidding.”

You shook your head and held back a giggle as her mouth fell open “Are you fucking kidding me? You climbed that tree? IN MY CAR?” She peered in the back to see the seats folded and her blanket spread across the cargo hold.

You blew out a long breath that ended in a laugh “After we skinny dipped.”

She gasped and clutched her heart, gripping your arm “This is the best day of my life. Is it everything I think it was? Did it live up to the dirty talk?”

“It did. Good call on that blanket by the way.”

“That’s my girl! Up top!” She grabbed your hand and slapped her own with it she grabbed your face and kissed you on the cheek. She swung an arm over your shoulder and reached in her pocket, pulling out the half smoked joint and waggled her eyebrows.

“Round two?”

[undiscovered-horizon]

Die Happy - Sanji x Reader

SUMMARY: Sanji is disillusioned about your lack of interest in him. Someone like you could pick and choose among princes, kings and emperors. What's a measly cook to you? Nevertheless, his lovesick heart continuously rejoices when you choose him to waste time with.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

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Part 2 -> "Maelstrom"

Sanji has never believed in ghouls, witches, faeries and the like. However, when he met you his belief began to shatter:

Like a dark sorceress covering the whole world with a curse, you lured all the influential, important men like fire does moths. At first, Sanji fooled himself that all those generals, merchants and noblemen only wanted something pretty to hang onto their shoulders but reality destroyed his comforting illusion when the said men offered riches most people couldn’t even fathom. If you asked them for an armada to sail to the Grand Line, they’d only ask what type of wood you’d prefer. Despite something akin to world domination lying at your fingertips, you always laughed those offers off, telling your powerful suitors that you would think about their words and get back to them.

Sanji once asked whether you’re truly considering marrying one of the generals or kings. Some more naive part of him hoped you’d say no. Alas, the truth, once again, was his adversary:

“Obviously!” you giggled at his silly question. “But I won’t marry the first one that offers me wealth and whatnot. First, I’d like to see all of my options and the world…” your voice trailed away as you vaguely pointed around the two of you. “Well, it’s a big place. Many more kingdoms to visit.”

But to his own demise, the cook was a fool unlike any other. He had no chance at winning your heart, no matter how much he’d try. Still, his untamable desire egged him on, whispering sweet songs of your grace. Even if he could taste your lips only in his imagination, he could do his best for you to have a reason to keep him around like a dog that begs for scraps at his master’s table.

Sanji knows he’s only hurting himself, only furthering his desperation when he makes you smile or earns a speck of your affection. Every dawn, he promises to free himself from your sorcery but when dusk comes and his left with the Moon, his only confidant, he realizes that he could never possess enough power to cut himself free from you. You’ve pierced his heart right through and if he pulls your knife out of his chest, he’s bound to bleed out and die. It’s better if he lets you have complete control over his mind and soul - it’s the only way he will make it out alive.

He’s left cold and lonely on that night. Soft, silver moonlight washes over him through the small porthole in the wall of his room. The sea is almost black at this hour of the night but it becomes a mystical sapphire when the Moon’s glow washes over the lazy waves making them glisten like pure diamonds.

Diamonds… maybe if he had diamonds, you’d see him as a man and not just a shipmate.

Quiet knocking on his door wakes Sanji up from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to get up and open the door or tell the guest to come in, the mysterious visitor enters out of their own volition.

Your tired face makes Sanji think about painting in museums - the ones all connoisseurs consider “classics” and “timeless”. The silk shirt you’re wearing looks not only awfully expensive but, which is much worse, to be a men’s size. Its hem ends right underneath your buttcheeks, threatening to expose your body should you lift your hands. In the darkness of his cabin, you appear as nothing beyond a phantom, a hallucination born out of desperation. And just like a ghost, you’ve come to haunt and torment him in the sweetest of ways; in a way only you can.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks in a raspy voice. Sanji is doing a great job at appearing unaffected by your rather scantily clad form.

Carefully, you close the door behind you and walk towards him. Your skin glows when you step into the rays of soft moonlight pouring in through the porthole. Dishevelled hair, half-closed eyes and a slightly puffy face - Sanji has imagined you this way countless times but never actually seen. He can feel his body burning up, telling him to seize the opportunity, to wash you in the most charming and suave words he can think of.

“Nami kicks while sleeping,” you say quietly. “I swear to god my whole side is bruised at this point. Can I sleep with you?”

Sanji has to remind himself to breathe and to do so calmly. He’s cool, completely in control of himself. His mouth feels unbearably dry.

“‘Course you can,” he answers casually. With a swift move of his arm, he lifts the duvet. “Come on in.”

The pure bliss that suddenly appears on your face forces Sanji to take in a sharp, ragged breath. It’s an expression he also imagined one too many times when his desperation poisons his mind - not that he’s willing to admit it even to himself. He knows it’s wrong to even entertain a scenario in which you would grace him with such an enraptured face. Still, his will is not as strong as he often makes it out to be.

“Sanji, you are my salvation,” you tell him while getting under the covers with him.

“I know, love.”

It’s both strange and natural, the way your body fits his. As though the two of you have done it so much the memory of your muscles twists and turns your limbs to rest in the most comfortable and intimate way. The odd familiarity makes Sanji think that maybe in another lifetime this is how he always sleeps. He wishes he could find himself in that reality even for a second. Alas, it’s too far out of his reach.

“Damn, you’re really comfortable,” you mumble against his chest. Your hot breath makes him shiver. “And warm. I don’t think I’ll be going back to my bed.” A small grin of cosiness appears on your face - one that Sanji will never forget.

His broad chest and strong arm normally go unnoticed by you but now they’re like a fortress. And just like high stone walls are an unspoken promise of security and happiness, his firm hold on your body is a silent oath of a good night's sleep.

“Stay as long as you want,” he whispers back to you. 

Maybe if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d notice that his words aren’t a statement but a plea. They’re the last thing you remember before drifting off to a restful slumber.

Your breathing slows down and gains a steady, shallow rhythm. Keeping you close to his chest, Sanji allows his hands to gently brush against your arm and back. His movements are feathery, almost fearful. He wouldn’t want you to wake up and change your mind about spending the night beside him - he can indulge in his heart’s desire but he must do so carefully.

“If you only gave me a chance,” he whispers into the night.

Knowing you’re asleep and bound to remain ignorant of his affections, Sanji kisses the top of your head. His lips linger against your hair while he takes in the scent that haunts him day and night. Unknowingly, his grip around your body tightens at that moment as though he has suddenly grown most terrified of having you disappear. Too many nights he’s dreamed of this exact scenario only to wake up to a cold, empty bed.

When the dawn arrives and you leave his arms, this little moment of affection won't mean anything to you. It means nothing now. Sanji knows this very well. He doesn't try to lie to himself that maybe you'll wake up a changed person and finally see him as more than a friendly comrade. Although tonight means nothing to you, it holds an unspeakable weight to Sanji, who will forever gloat about the fact that when you needed help, it was him you turned to. It was his arms that guarded your sleep for a few hours.

Fighting off sleep until he collapses, Sanji revels in the feeling of you against his body and pretends, even if for one night, that you’re his the same way he will always be yours. Watching you sleep cuddled into him, he swears he could die happy now.

[jessiexflem]

– oh, baby | jessie fleming x reader

content: pregnancy blurb, fluff, based on this request!

word count: 820

Blankets, car seat, clothes. Blankets, car seat, clothes. Diapers? No, they have diapers at the hospital. But, what if they run out of the size we need? No, they won’t, they have so many. It wouldn’t hurt to bring some of ours, though, right? You toss a few newborn diapers in your hospital bag, just in case. Do we need bottles? Shoes? Babies don’t even wear shoes. It’s January, though, what if her feet get co–

“Babe?” Jessie interrupts your thoughts, “Why did I find the television remote in the fridge?”

Your eyes land on the remote in your wife’s hand. You were flipping through channels this morning when you had gotten a craving for a mug of hot chocolate. But, if the remote was in the fridge, where was the carton of milk?

“Oh, I was looking for that earlier,” you frowned.

Jessie chuckles, placing the remote on the dresser as she steps toward you. She wraps her arms around your waist belly, her chest pressing against your back. She rests her head on your shoulder, “How are my girls doing?”

You groan, motioning at the half-packed hospital bag and pile of baby supplies strewn across your bed. You were eight months pregnant, and your doctor instructed you to be prepared for your baby girl to make her appearance at any point between now and your actual due date. 

“What if I forget to pack something?”

Jessie bites her lip, holding back a laugh, “Sweetheart, I think you’ve packed the entire house.”

You sigh, turning around to sit on the edge of the bed, “I just want to be prepared.”

This was your and Jessie’s first pregnancy, and the stress of the unknowns of parenthood were growing and growing the closer you got to your due date. Your friends had been supportive, giving recommendations on what you did or didn’t need, and things that you could expect during each trimester, but you were terrified for what was to come once it was time to take your baby home. You and Jessie had enrolled in pregnancy and parenting courses, but you couldn’t help but worry about everything the classes didn’t cover. 

You stare down at your feet belly as the back of your eyes begin to sting. “I don’t want to mess anything up,” you whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jessie frowns, kneeling on the floor to look up at your face. She grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze, “You won’t mess anything up.”

“I’m scared, Jess,” you use your free hand to wipe away a few stray tears, “What if I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I know you’re scared, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also absolutely terrified,” your wife admits, “but I also know that you’ve done everything you can to learn about what to expect, and what we need to prepare for.”

You shake your head, “What if it’s not enough? What if I’m a bad mom?”

“My love,” Jessie frowns, “I promise you there is no way that you will ever be a bad mom. Absolutely no way. Dare I say you’ll be the best mom. I won’t pretend like we’re going to know everything, but I know that even if we don’t, we’re going to figure it out.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip as you mull over her words. Jessie had been amazing your entire pregnancy, from caring for you when morning sickness kept you in bed most of your first trimester, to running to the store at odd hours of the night for that one specific ice cream that you needed right now. If anyone was going to be the best mom, it was going to be your wife.

“Promise we’ll figure it out?”

“I promise.”

You give Jessie a meek smile, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

“Hush,” she rolls her eyes, moving to sit next to you on the bed, “I love you so much, and I can’t wait to watch you become a mom.”

“I love you more,” you press your lips to hers, “Are we sure she’s going to like her name, though?”

“Y/N.”

“I don’t want her to not like her name!” you giggle.

Jessie shakes her head, but a laugh escapes her lips, “Then we change it. I think little Miss Amelia will like her name just fine, though.”

As if on cue, you feel a foot start pushing into the side of your belly. You shift Jessie’s hand to where your baby was kicking and watch her face light up. 

“I think that’s a resounding yes,” your wife’s grin pulls from ear to ear, “Isn’t it, Amelia? You’re kicking hard, aren’t you? Auntie Janine’s going to have you running shooting drills with her as soon as you’re out here, huh?”

You smile, your fears pushed out of your mind, “She already takes after her Mama, doesn’t she?”

[waitforyrlove]

slytherin ! matt doesn’t let you break free from his game.

you were running late for Herbology, the kind of late that made your stomach twist with anxiety. As you rushed into the greenhouse, your hands frantically dug into your bag, searching for your herbology knife—the one essential tool for today’s class.

it wasn’t there.

panic set in as you rifled through every pocket, your fingers brushing over parchment, quills, and an array of useless things that weren’t what you needed. The knife, the one Professor Sprout insisted you always bring to class, was gone.

“Everything alright?” your friend asked from the workstation next to you, a curious look on her face.

“No,” you muttered, shaking your head, “I can’t find my knife.”

“Did you leave it in your dorm?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, though doubt was starting to creep in. You never misplaced that knife—it was practically second nature to check for it before every Herbology lesson.

your eyes darted across the room as you scanned for any sign of it, but something—or rather, someone—caught your attention instead.

Matt.

he was leaning casually against one of the greenhouse tables, his sleeves rolled up and his trademark smirk firmly in place. His green-and-silver tie was loose around his neck, and he was twirling something between his fingers.

it was your knife.

your stomach dropped, a mixture of anger and disbelief bubbling to the surface. You didn’t even need to look twice to confirm it—it was unmistakably yours. The silver blade glinted in the sunlight, and the worn leather grip bore the tiny scratch you’d accidentally made during your first Herbology class.

you stormed over to him, your heart pounding with irritation. “Is there a reason you’re holding my knife, Matt?”

he looked up at you, feigning innocence, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “Oh, this is yours?”

“Yes,” you snapped, crossing your arms, “Give it back.”

Matt tilted his head, as if considering your request, but the smirk on his face only widened,“You really should take better care of your things, sweetheart. Leaving them lying around for anyone to take?”

“I didn’t leave it lying around,” you hissed, your voice low to avoid drawing too much attention. “You stole it.”

“Stole is such a strong word,” he replied smoothly. “I’d say… borrowed.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin, “Whatever you want to call it, I need it back. Now.”

he chuckled, leaning in slightly so his voice was just for you, “What’s the rush? Herbology’s barely started.”

you clenched your fists, your frustration mounting, “Matt, I’m serious. Give it back.”

“Hmm,” he mused, leaning back against the table and twirling the knife once more, “I could give it back. Or…” He trailed off, his smirk taking on a mischievous edge.

“Or what?” you asked warily, already dreading his answer.

“Or you could do something for me first,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes sharp.

you groaned, already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment, “Why can’t you ever just do something without making it into a game?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he countered, his smirk never faltering.

you stared at him, your anger battling with the realization that you didn’t have a choice. You needed that knife. Herbology was one of your better subjects, and you couldn’t afford to fall behind—not because of him.

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

his smirk deepened, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I need some information. From Ravenclaw.”

“Information? About what?”

he straightened up, his expression growing slightly more serious. “I need information. There’s someone in Ravenclaw—Connor Ashworth—who’s been running his mouth about me, talking shit, I want to know what he’s saying and who he’s saying it to.”

your jaw tightened at the word harmless, but you bit back your retort, “So you want me to spy on him?”

“Exactly,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, “Find out what you can, and then your precious knife is all yours.”

you glared at him, hating how easily he manipulated the situation to his advantage, “And what happens if I refuse?”

he twirled the knife one last time before slipping it into his pocket, “Then I guess you’ll be doing today’s lesson without it.”

you stared at him, your mind racing. Every instinct told you not to give in, not to let him win. But the thought of standing in front of Professor Sprout empty-handed, trying to explain why you didn’t have your knife, made your stomach churn.

“Fine,” you said at last, your voice heavy with resignation, “I’ll do it.”

“Atta girl,” Matt said, his smirk widening as he straightened up, “I knew you’d see reason.”

you didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you turned on your heel and stormed back to your workstation, your mind already working on how you were going to pull this off.

the next day, you found yourself in the Ravenclaw common room under the pretense of borrowing a book from one of your friends. It was awkward at first, trying to subtly steer the conversation toward Connor without raising suspicion. But luckily, your friend was more than happy to gossip.

“Connor’s been acting so smug lately,” she said, flipping through the pages of her Charms textbook. “I overheard him talking to someone about Matt the other day. Something about a duel? Or maybe it was a bet. I’m not sure.”

you leaned in, feigning casual curiosity, “What was he saying?”

“Mostly that he got the better of Matt in some argument. Honestly, it sounded like typical Connor—blowing things out of proportion to make himself look good.”

you nodded, trying to piece together the information. Matt hadn’t mentioned anything about a duel, but it was clear that whatever Connor was spreading, it was enough to bother him.

for the rest of the afternoon, you lingered around the Ravenclaws, picking up snippets of conversation here and there. By the time you returned to your common room, you had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

that evening, you found Matt waiting for you in the corridor outside the library.

“Well?” he asked, his smirk firmly in place, “What did you find out?”

you crossed your arms, glaring at him, “Connor’s been bragging about a duel with you. He’s telling people he humiliated you.”

Matt’s eyes darkened, his smirk faltering for the first time, “Did he say anything else?”

“Just that he’s been talking to some Hufflepuffs about it. Apparently, he’s trying to make sure the whole school hears about it.”

Matt let out a low laugh, though there was no humor in it, “Interesting,”

“Now give me my knife,” you said, holding out your hand expectantly.

he glanced at you, his smirk returning, “Oh, I will. But I think you’ve earned a little reward for your hard work.”

“I don’t want a reward. I just want my knife.”

Matt pulled the blade from his pocket, holding it up between his fingers, “Fine,” he said, stepping closer. “But you have to admit… we make a pretty good team.”

you snatched the knife from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment, “This isn’t a team. This is blackmail.”

he chuckled, taking a step back. “Call it whatever you want, sweetheart. You’ll come around eventually.”

you glared at him, slipping the knife back into your satchel, “Don’t count on it.”

as you turned to leave, Matt’s voice followed you down the corridor.

“Careful out there,” he called, his tone light but laced with something darker, “You never know when you’ll need my help again.”

you didn’t dignify him with a response, but his words stuck with you as you made your way back to your common room.

no matter how much you tried to distance yourself, Matt always seemed to pull you back into his web. And as much as you hated to admit it, a small part of you wondered if you’d ever truly escape.

the days after your reluctant deal with Matt passed in a haze of frustration and unease. Every time you saw him, whether it was in the corridors or during meals in the Great Hall, he gave you that infuriating smirk. It wasn’t just teasing—it was a reminder. He knew he was in your head, and he wasn’t about to let you forget it.

you tried to go about your life as normal, but the weight of Matt’s games lingered like a shadow. And deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over.

it wasn’t over.

it was a Thursday evening, and you were in the library, trying to focus on your Potions essay. The soft scratch of quills and the faint whispers of other students filled the room, a soothing backdrop that helped you push aside your annoyance with Matt—at least for a little while.

but, as always, peace didn’t last long.

you heard the sound of footsteps approaching your table, and before you could even look up, a familiar voice broke through your concentration.

“Working hard, I see.”

you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to face him. Matt stood there, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, his green-and-silver tie hanging loose around his neck. He looked relaxed, but the glint in his eyes told you he was here with a purpose.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice flat.

Matt slid into the chair across from you, leaning back like he owned the place. “Don’t look so thrilled to see me.”

“I’m not,” you said bluntly.

he chuckled, unbothered by your tone, “You wound me, sweetheart.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep your temper in check, “If this is about Connor, I already did what you asked. I don’t owe you anything.”

“True,” Matt admitted, tilting his head slightly, “But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have something else in mind.”

you groaned, dropping your quill onto the table, “Of course you do. What is it this time?”

Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he studied you with a look that made your skin prickle, “Let’s call it… an opportunity.”

“An opportunity,” you repeated, skepticism dripping from your words.

he nodded, his smirk widening. “There’s a little… gathering happening in the Forbidden Forest this weekend. A few of us are planning to check out some magical creatures that are supposedly nesting there.”

you raised an eyebrow, “And what does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” Matt said, his tone light but calculated, “it just so happens that I could use someone with your… resourcefulness. You’ve proven you’re good at sneaking around, and you’re surprisingly quick on your feet. Plus, if anything goes wrong, it’s always good to have someone who can keep a cool head.”

you stared at him, disbelief etched across your face. “You want me to sneak into the Forbidden Forest with you?”

“Half of the fun, yeah.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head, “I’m not risking detention—or worse—for one of your ridiculous fuckin’ schemes.”

Matt’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he looked even more amused by your resistance, “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure? It’ll be fun. You, me, and a couple of others… what could possibly go wrong?”

“Everything,” you shot back, “Everything could go wrong. And I’m not getting dragged into another one of your messes.”

Matt leaned back in his chair, his smirk softening into something more genuine, “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an awful lot of time thinking about me.”

You froze, heat rushing to your face, “I do not—”

“You do,” he interrupted smoothly, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “And that’s okay, sweetheart. I’m flattered, really.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out. He always had a way of throwing you off balance, and it drove you insane

“Think about it,” he said, rising to his feet, “We leave Saturday night. Meet me by the edge of the forest if you change your mind.”

“And if I don’t?” you called after him, your frustration bubbling over

Matt glanced back at you, his smirk firmly in place, “You will.”

and with that, he was gone, leaving you fuming at the table

the Saturday night came faster than you’d expected, and despite every logical argument you’d made to yourself, you found yourself standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, your heart pounding in your chest.

Matt was already there, leaning casually against a tree with an air of nonchalance that made you want to strangle him.

“I knew you’d come,” he said, his smirk lighting up the dim surroundings.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“Oh, you will,” he replied, his tone teasing, “But it’ll be worth it.”

as he led you into the dark, twisting trees, you couldn’t help but wonder how you’d gotten yourself into this mess—again. But one thing was certain: when it came to him, there was no such thing as simple.

the night air was cool, the thick canopy of trees above blocking most of the moonlight as you followed Matt deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Every snap of a twig underfoot felt louder than it should, the silence pressing in around you, heightening your awareness of everything—especially of Matt, walking just ahead, his movements confident and sure.

“So,” you broke the silence, trying to steady your nerves, “What exactly are we doing here? You haven’t exactly given me details.”

Matt glanced over his shoulder, his smirk still in place, “Patience, sweetheart. You’ll find out soon enough.” His tone was teasing, but there was a hard edge underneath it, something that told you he wasn’t entirely joking.

you rolled your eyes but didn’t press him further. The last thing you wanted was to get caught up in one of his games again, but part of you—damn it, part of you—was already intrigued. That damn curiosity of yours had a nasty habit of getting the better of you when it came to Matt.

he led you through the dense forest, your footsteps now muffled by the thick undergrowth beneath. The deeper you went, the more the sounds of the castle faded away, leaving only the occasional rustling of leaves and the faint hoots of owls overhead. Your senses were on high alert, the air around you thick with an eerie tension. You could feel it creeping up your spine.

finally, after what seemed like forever, Matt stopped in front of a small clearing. A large, ancient oak tree loomed at the center, its branches twisted and gnarled like something out of a nightmare. The atmosphere was heavy, and for a moment, you almost regretted following him.

“Alright,” Matt said, turning to face you, “Here’s the deal. I want you to stay here for a bit, keep an eye out. I’m going to check the area around the tree for any… potential problems. If anyone shows up, you’ll need to be the lookout.”

“You brought me out here just to… stand guard? In the middle of the night?”

Matt’s smirk deepened, though there was something darker behind it now, “You’re good at sneaking around, aren’t you? You’ve proven that before. This isn’t a job for amateurs.”

you couldn’t help but scowl at the implied insult, though you had to admit, he had a point. You had been sneaky, both in the library and when you’d stolen the book from his dorm. But you weren’t about to let him get under your skin.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest, “you’re just going to leave me here while you do whatever shady thing you’re planning?”

“Not exactly,” He stepped closer, his voice lowering, “While I’m out there, you’re going to make sure no one follows us. You’ll be the eyes on the ground, and when I’m done, we can go back to the castle without anyone suspecting a thing.” He paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours, “And in return, I’ll consider our… little arrangement settled.”

“I’ve already done more than enough for you,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I know,” Matt replied, his lips curling into a playful grin, “But you’ve got something I want, sweetheart. And you’ll do this for me. Because you don’t want to know what happens if you don’t.”

his words sent a cold shiver down your spine. You hated that you felt the weight of them. Hated that you couldn’t just walk away from this. But despite your protests, you nodded. What else could you do?

“Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll stay here. But don’t expect me to stick around if this goes sideways.”

“Gooood girl.”

and then he disappeared into the darkness, his footsteps light but purposeful as he vanished from your view.

the clearing fell silent once again, and you were left standing alone in the cold night air, your mind racing. What the hell was Matt up to this time? What kind of trouble was he getting himself—and you—into.

you strained your ears, hoping to hear something, anything that would clue you in. But all you could hear was the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that you were missing a piece of the puzzle.

minutes dragged into what felt like hours. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, trying to stay alert. The longer you stood there, the more uncomfortable you became. Your stomach twisted, and your thoughts raced, replaying every interaction with Matt up until this point. His games. His smugness. That damn pull he seemed to have over you.

you rubbed your arms to ward off the chill, your eyes scanning the shadows for any movement. Nothing. Still nothing. Was this some kind of twisted test? Or was he really just out here checking for threats?

the sound of footsteps broke your focus.

you snapped your head toward the noise, your heart slamming against your ribs. A figure emerged from the darkness, cloaked in shadow, moving toward you with deliberate steps.

you held your breath. Was it Matt? Or someone else? A cold sweat trickled down your spine as you instinctively took a step back, the forest suddenly feeling like it was closing in around you.

“Matt?” you called out softly, not sure if you wanted the answer.

the figure froze. Then, you heard the unmistakable voice of Matt, low and smooth in the dark, “You should relax a little. You’re doing fine.”

you exhaled, almost too relieved to speak, “What took you so long?”

“Just making sure the area is clear,” he replied, stepping into the clearing. He seemed to have been gone longer than expected, and there was something different about his energy now. His movements were a little more guarded, his smirk a little more controlled.

“You didn’t run into anyone, did you?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but your nerves were getting the better of you.

Matt studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “No,” he said slowly, “I didn’t. But I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve brought someone else. You look a little too tense for my liking.”

you shot him a glare, irritated by his usual arrogance, “I’m not some pawn in your little games, Matt.”

his lips curved into a smile, though it was less playful now and more dangerous. “Of course not,” he said, stepping closer, “You’re much more than that. You’re a challenge.”

the air between you felt thick, charged with a tension that made it hard to breathe. He took a step closer, his presence closing the space between you until you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You didn’t move, didn’t step back, despite every instinct telling you to run. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled you in despite everything you knew about him.

you swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as he leaned in, just a little, his breath warm against your skin. “You don’t realize it yet,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper, “but you’re already a part of my game, sweetheart. And you’re playing it just the way I want.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, your lips parting slightly in surprise. You tried to ignore the way your body seemed to betray you, heat creeping up your neck, a flutter of something unfamiliar settling deep in your stomach. You didn’t want to be pulled in. You didn’t want to care. But his presence was intoxicating, his proximity making it harder to think, harder to breathe.

your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, you both just stood there, neither of you speaking. His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and something shifted in the air between you, a promise lingering in the space.

you could feel your pulse racing, could feel the dangerous pull between you, the way he was slowly drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You should move away, you should pull back, but the words were stuck in your throat, and your body felt frozen in place.

Matt was close enough now that you could feel his body heat against yours, his every breath seeming to sync with yours. His eyes darkened as he tilted his head slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his warm breath mingling with yours.

“Don’t tell me you’re not tempted,” he murmured, his voice like silk, dark and enticing, “You feel it too. I know you do.”

you felt it—the electric charge in the air, the undeniable pull. It was maddening, how easily he could make you forget your own thoughts, your own boundaries. His lips were so close. If you just leaned in a little more…

you didn’t know how long you stood there, your heart racing, your breath shallow, but the moment felt like it stretched on forever, thick with uncertainty and temptation. You could feel the weight of the decision, the gravity of what was happening, pulling you down into it.

then, just as you thought you might give in, he pulled back, his smirk returning, though this time it held something more, something predatory.

“I thought you had more sense than that,” he said, his voice low and mocking, as though he’d just tested your limits and found them wanting.

you didn’t know if you wanted to punch him or kiss him, and do whatever intrusive thought you had in your mind. Instead, you took a step back, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to regain control of your emotions.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

he only chuckled darkly, his eyes never leaving you, “I always do.”

with that, he turned and began walking back toward the path leading out of the forest, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing, your mind a blur of confusion and desire.

© waitforyrlove. all rights deserved. do not copy my works. or modify my work.

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˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author ˙— 3 days in a row slytherin ! matt??? who’s this

[undercoveravenger]

Criminal Intent

Criminal!Soap x Detective!Male!Reader

A/N: Okay, first time writing for COD and it’s an AU with a probably very out of character Soap. This is potentially a continuing series with an option for poly!141 if you guys’re into it. Feel free to send requests for the 141 or for this au in the meantime

Part 2 -> click here

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It’s the silence that bothers him, really. He’s been in plenty of interrogation rooms with plenty of detectives sitting across him. He’s had officers beat him and bribe him and try to weasel information out of him a dozen different ways, but he’s never had someone quite like you.

The first thing that crosses his mind when you close the heavy door behind you is that you’re fine as hell. All strong jaw and pretty eyes and a white button up shirt stretched tight across a thick chest and broad shoulders and he just knows you could fold him in half if you wanted to. The next thing he notices is that you’re quiet. You settle into the seat across from him with spread legs and an open case file without so much as glancing at him and if he didn’t know you were trying to put his whole goddamn organization behind bars-

“Can we get this over with?” he finally says, if only to get you to look away from the fucking paperwork for a moment. 

Your eyes are almost bored when they meet his and Johnny’s just decided they’re his new favorite color when you speak and his brain about short circuits at the sound of your voice. “Oh,” you say, though you don’t sound surprised. He definitely does not think about the other ways he could get you to say that. Definitely not. “Ready to squeal?”

He swallows thickly, knows you want him to give up Price and Gaz and Ghost. “I’m no rat,” he says, lips curling up into that charming smile he’d put to use hundreds of times over as he leans in, “But I bet there’s plenty a’ other things you could do that’d get me squealin’.”

“Pass.” You don’t seem affected in the slightest as your eyes drop back to the folder in your hands, deft fingers flipping pages and his mouth waters at the thought of those fingers fisting into his hair. “I told them you wouldn’t be worth my time,” you said, tipping your head toward the one-way mirror that lined one edge of the interrogation room. “Too damn stubborn to get yourself a good deal in exchange for a little information.” 

He huffs, a little petulant from your disinterest, “Stubborn’s one word for it. Loyal’s another.” He puffs his chest out a bit. He knows he’s good looking, been told so all his life, so you’re either not into blokes, or you’re lying. “‘S a good trait for your future husband to have, ain’t it?” There it is, he thinks with a grin as your eyes shoot up to meet his, thrown off for the first time since you set foot in the room.

“Wha-” you cut yourself off, schooling your surprise back into that boring deadpan expression and Johnny almost pouts as you do. “That’s rather inappropriate.”

Johnny shrugs, leans forward to rest his forearms against the table, handcuffs clinking as he moves. His voice lowers to nearly a pur, “Could do some other things that’re inappropriate if you want? Wouldnae even have to take these off,” he jingles the cuffs pointedly. He tips his head toward the mirror, “Doubt you’d want your supervisors here for that though.”

Your pupils are slightly dilated when you look at him and he can see how tempted you’d be by him if he’d met you anywhere else. God, the things he’d do to you if you’d just wandered into the bar above the safehouse downtown - He shakes it off, knows he can’t let himself get distracted. Knows he just has to stall for time ‘til Price has his bail paid and he can disappear again. But the idea of getting closer to you? Of having you to himself, even for a little while? Oh, that’s a chance he can’t pass up, even if Ghost and Price’ll be pissed at him later.

“I’d think about a deal,” he finds himself saying, the words foreign on his tongue and he’s almost as shocked to be saying them as you look to be hearing them. “My time for yours. I won’t give you my boys, but I’ve got plenty more information that’d help you lot out that I could pass along if you agree to meet me when I’m out.” He continues, hand jerking forward to catch your chin and keep you from looking to the officers behind the mirror for guidance, to keep you looking at him and him only. “Just you. No backup, no wires, nothing. Just the two of us.”

He can feel your tension against his fingertips, can feel the way you ache to get approval from your higher ups before responding, a foxhound not used to being pursued by the fox without so much as a huntsman to guide you, can see the way your fingers tighten against the folder in your grip, knuckles nearly going white with the pressure. Can see the moment when your resolve cracks and you nod. It’s small and barely there, but you agreed all the same whether or not your superiors would’ve approved it.

You’re up out of your seat and crossing to the door as soon as he releases you and he knows what mess’ll be waiting for you but all he can think about is what it’ll take to draw you to him, to bring you close to his side and keep you there and how helpful it’ll be to have a soon-to-be former detective working for Price and his syndicate and how he’s going to have so much fun breaking you.