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lukesaprince · 8 months ago

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Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings: SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight.

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything.

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise.

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return.

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible.

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night.

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders.

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy.

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about.

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t.

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window.

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over.

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin.

You prayed it was only her being skittish.

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet.

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time.

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell.

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in.

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived.

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful.

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience.

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.”

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds.

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive.

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him.

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating.

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet.

“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily.

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him.

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart.

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside.

You wanted to save him.

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along.

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you.

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night.

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it.

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along.

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected.

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time.

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air.

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh.

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window.

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word.

Mine.

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting.

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that?

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?”

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up.

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was.

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release.

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.”

Shit.

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.”

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all.

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin.

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now.

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street.

But tonight… you knew.

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew.

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times.

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it.

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway.

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky.

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him.

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.”

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck.

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip.

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms.

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.”

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you.

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it.

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss.

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue.

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him.

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds.

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already.

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine.

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped.

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.”

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away.

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his.

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world.

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world.

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?”

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you.

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.”

All you could do was nod.

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head.

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever.

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips.

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny.

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom.

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you.

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.”

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him.

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples.

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday.

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches.

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever.

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything.

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp.

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch.

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face.

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body.

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert.

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you.

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face.

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe.

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling.

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked.

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy.

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?”

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word.

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you.

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine.

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him.

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?”

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you.

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him.

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?”

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern.

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you.

“Mhmm.”

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you.

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle.

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way.

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit.

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore.

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.”

“Good.”

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you.

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin.

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed.

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin.

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil.

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on?

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again.

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly.

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room.

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs.

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name.

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night.

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder.

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you.

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual.

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it.

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible.

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure.

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again.

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long.

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…”

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing.

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it.

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself.

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge.

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time.

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever.

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears.

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back.

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come.

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling.

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed.

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him.

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric.

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of.

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air.

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you.

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck.

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry.

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

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juleswritesstuff · 7 months ago

Text

Starving

Basically, just Theo being the munch that he is.

theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Enjoy💗

You had always hated Herbology with a deep passion.

Not the plants per se, those were rather fascinating to observe, but did they really need to have such a vast variety of species ? Was it actually necessary ?

Apparently it was, or Mrs Sprout wouldn't have given you a whole 600 words essay to write on every type of mandrake known to man.

Those screaming little things got on your nerves, and you could barely understand what the professor was talking about while tending to them. Hence, you were finding it extremely difficult to complete that paper.

The door of your dorm room suddenly opened and you had to restrain a curse from slipping through gritted teeth.

You had really hoped to not get interrupted.

Apparently your prayers weren't heard.

“You busy, dolcezza ?” (sweetie)

A more than familiar voice reached your ears. You lifted your eyes from your paper and they landed on none other than Theodore Nott, who was standing right in front of your door, now closed again, with a faint smirk plastered on his face.

You rolled your eyes. You knew that little grin all too well.

“Kind of, yeah” you replied, your attention going back to the paper in front of you as you started scribbling again with your quill “Aren't you ? Have you already finished your essay ?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just turned it in, so I have some time to kill” he said with that cocky attitude of his.

Infuriating and charming at the same time, truly unfair.

“Good for you, then. I don't, so if you could leave me to it, it would be much appreciated” you said as a forced smile curved your lips.

“Oh, come on. You don't even have a little time ? Per me ?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side with the most innocent expression he could master. (For me ?)

Which didn't work because his eyes screamed trouble.

Theo looked like an angel with his brown hair curled in soft locks and eyes as blue as the ocean, although dead and emotionless looking.

Actually, he was the devil in disguise. Especially when he acted all coy like this.

“No Theo, I really don't have time for your little antics today” you said huffing.

‘His little antics’ being eating you out till tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara was smudged and unsalvageable.

You and Theo were ‘friends’. You got along just fine, you talked, and you bickered like there was no tomorrow. It was part of your friendship, the teasing, the little harmless jokes. It was routine for the two of you.

What was also routine was the flirting.

Shameless and obvious flirting.

You never thought it would lead anywhere. You were so used to the little Italian endearments he gave you and the ever present smirk on his lips that you didn't really think anything of it.

Until one night, after one of the biggest parties that Slytherin had ever thrown, you ended up in his bed, with him between your legs eating you out like his life depended on it.

You didn't even know how you found yourself in that situation, you just knew that you hadn't minded one bit.

You ended up with shaky legs and a dizzy brain just by his tongue alone.

Saying that you didn't mind it would've been an understatement.

The day after was awkward as hell, but you both were too direct and honest to not deal with the weird atmosphere immediately.

So you decided to add some…privileges to your relationship.

You discovered Theo had quite an oral fixation.

He needed to keep his mouth occupied with something.

Cigarettes were a great way to keep his mouth busy, but they were extremely damaging for his health.

You didn't mean to make him stop smoking, you knew it would've been basically impossible, and, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, he looked so damn hot with those death traps between his lips, but you wanted to at least try to reduce the amount of nicotine that went into his body.

And what better way than to bribe him with the second thing he loved the most in the world ?

Eating you out seemed to be his favorite hobby.

Anytime he felt the need to light one cigarette more than necessary he came to you, with that sinful smirk on his lips and the hottest ‘fuck me’ eyes he could master.

And who were you to say no ?

You had proposed the deal in the first place.

Plus, he was amazing at it too. The way his tongue worked on your cunt definitely felt like ascending to heaven.

But now you really didn't have the time.

“I'm not here because I feel like smoking, Y/n” he said walking up to you and stopping in front of the desk, leaning forward a little as he supported his weight with his hands on the table.

You made the mistake of lifting your eyes from the parchment and locking them with his. His gaze was magnetic. Once those pools of stormy sea caught you, you couldn't escape.

“Then why are you here ?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Cause I'm starving, bambolina” he uttered with the calmest and most unaffected tone in his voice. (babydoll)

You narrowed your eyes.

“Then you should be in the kitchen to solve that little problem, don't you think ?” you asked rhetorically, eyes going back to focus on the parchment in front of you.

You heard him scoff, and suddenly he was leaning so much closer.

Your head was still hung low, trying to write that damn essay, but his presence was distracting as hell and you couldn't help but shiver when he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“You're right, that would be the perfect solution if I was hungry for food” he stopped and you could feel the teasing smile plastered on his face.

“But all I'm craving is you and that pretty little cunt of yours, so I don't think the kitchen elves could really help me with that”

You wished you could say his words didn't affect you, you really wished.

But the sudden warmth on your cheeks and the unconscious clench of your legs told another story.

You really didn't have time for this, but your body was craving him and his touch like crazy, and you weren't sure you would've been able to focus if you didn't feel his tongue working its wonders on you.

So you sighed and pushed the chair you were sitting on a bit farther away from the desk, enough to take your knickers off and throw them somewhere behind you, then you sat back, your skirt still covering you up until your mid thighs.

His eyes darkened with lust.

“Make it quick, I have an essay to finish” you said, faking indifference.

On the inside you were burning alive.

“Quick ? It's like you don't know me at all, dolcezza” he said with a scoff as he sank to his knees, crawling until he was right in front of you.

His gaze locked in yours as his hands made contact with the bare skin of your legs, caressing them gently, tenderly.

“I'll take my sweet time with you. Ora fai la brava and open those gorgeous legs for me” you hated how fast you complied, but with the way he was looking at you you really couldn’t help yourself. (Now be good)

He lifted your skirt and he leaned forward.

As soon as his tongue made contact with your folds you melted.

You choked out a whimper, and you could feel him smirk right against your groin.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Nott, I'm only -ah fuck, I'm only doing it because you begged me” you said as he kept lapping at your core with his tongue, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a gentle suck.

The moan that rippled out of you was almost pornographic.

“Piccola bugiarda, you know that's not true. You're doing it because you want it too” he moved his mouth from your cunt to your thighs, giving feather light kisses on the sensitive skin. (Little liar)

“You're so wet, you didn't think I would notice ?” he asked with that fucking cocky attitude that made you go crazy.

“Shut up and put that mouth to a better use” you said, but the bite in your voice was definitely toned down by the urgency and neediness of having his mouth back where you needed him the most.

His head tilted to the side as he leaned back just the tiniest bit.

“What's with the attitude, uh ?”

“No, no, no, -shit Theo. Come back here” you said, almost whining.

He was too far, and you needed him.

You needed him closer, way fucking closer.

“E come si dice ?” he teased, his eyes were dark and fogged up by lust and hunger. (And what do you say ?)

“Fuck, why do you always want me to beg ?” you asked, defeated. He leaned forward again, his breath hovering right above the tender skin as you clenched around nothing, feeling the loss of his tongue.

“Because it's fun, I love it when you beg me with that sweet mouth of yours. Plus I like seeing you flustered” he said as he started to kiss every inch and nook of your most sensitive area, avoiding where you really wanted him to.

You wanted to curse so bad, but you knew that was not what he wanted, what he needed.

“Theo -fuck. Please Theo, just touch me. Please” you surrendered, your voice whiny and broken, until a melody of moans and whimpers started to ripple out of your lips as soon as his mouth met your folds again.

And this time he didn’t stop.

He lapped at your juices like a starved man enjoying his meal for the first time in days.

He licked, and sucked, and kissed every centimeter, every inch of tender skin like he was born to do that.

Your hands buried in his soft brown locks and you tugged at them unconsciously after a particularly good roll of his tongue made you see stars.

“Cazzo, se continui così verrò nei pantaloni porca puttana” he said, hissing. His mouth kept working wonders on your cunt, his groans creating delicious vibrations on your clit. (Fuck, if you keep this up I'll come in my pants, holy shit)

“Ancora” he said between ravenous licks and delicate, teasing sucks, guttural moans leaving his lips. (Again)

“What ?” you asked, lost in pleasure. Your little knowledge of the Italian language became nonexistent when he was busy making you cry on his tongue.

“Again, baby. You know i fucking love it” he says, mouthing the words right against your core.

And so you obeyed, tugging at his hair again, a little rougher, a little harder.

A low groan left his lips.

You were close, you were so fucking close.

“Shit, Theo, baby” you moaned out loud, the term of endearment completely slipping out.

Theo seemed to notice, because he started to go faster, tongue flicking desperately at your folds.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, your ears rang and your sight turned black as you got hit by pleasure.

The hand on his hair kept Theo close as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

He lapped at your juices carefully, to not overstimulate you, leaving sweet butterfly kisses on your thighs, worshiping the skin with his lips.

Once your breathing started to go back to normal and your sight was not blurry from the pleasure anymore you looked at him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as his eyes focused on your face.

“You look quite disheveled, principessa” he said with a chuckle, pride oozing from his features for reducing you in that state. All fucked out and breathless. (princess)

“Oh, yeah ? And whose fault is that ?” you asked in mocking shock, but you couldn't help a chuckle from escaping your lips.

“And you're one to talk” you added as you took in his appearance. His eyes were still quite foggy and unfocused, his hair a mess from all the tugging, and his lips.

Oh, his lips. Red and shiny with your essence and the tiniest bit swollen.

He looked too fucking good to be true.

You knew you folded too easily when Theo was involved, but you couldn’t help it.

“I told you I was starving, you underestimated my eagerness to fucking devour you” he said with a shrug, wetting his lips to savor your taste once again, like his words didn’t make you feel like you were catching fire.

That mouth of his was a menace, physically and metaphorically.

“I’m never gonna be able to finish this stupid essay now” you said almost desperately.

He laughed at your pathetic whining, but it was a warm laugh, not one made to mock you but one that was closer to endearment.

“Was it so good that it melted your brain off ?” he asked with that cocky grin of his.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“Your overly confident attitude never fails to amaze me, Theodore Nott '' you said with a chuckle. You straightened your posture on the chair, smoothing out all the wrinkles that he had left from fisting your skirt and holding on for dear life to keep your hips still.

“Now I don’t want to kick you out, but I really need to finish this”

“No need for that, tesoro, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to distract you too much” he said, getting back up on his feet and tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

“See you at dinner ?” he asked.

You simply nodded your head yes.

His hand was still gently caressing your cheek, the pads of his fingers were as light as a feather as they danced on your skin.

His eyes were locked in yours, and you had no idea of what was happening.

Until his fingers reached your chin, tilting your head up the slightest bit.

Then he leaned in.

For the first time since you had started this ‘arrangement’ his lips met yours.

And they were sweeter than you thought, gentle, but there was an undertone of hunger, of neediness that you couldn’t ignore.

He tasted of nicotine and butter beer, bittersweet and addicting.

His lips were slightly chapped but you couldn’t care less about it as his tongue swiped on your bottom lip, his teeth grazing at it gently right after as he carefully bit the plump skin.

He pulled back slowly and you were left speechless.

He just chuckled at your wide eyes and agape mouth.

“Good luck on your essay, ok ? I’ll see you tonight” he left a quick kiss on your cheek before storming out of the door with a smile on his face.

Your thoughts were all over the place, because what the hell had just happened ?

Did Theodore Nott just kiss you ?

Something a little different from my usual marauders content, but he's been stuck in my brain for weeks now, and I couldn't help myself 😔

And honestly, as an Italian girl, I really think Lorenzo Zurzolo should be classified as a national treasure, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

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slytherinslut0 · 5 days ago

Text

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 17th. tom riddle — overstim, cockwarming.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: cockwarming as a punishment? clit stim cockwarming as a punishment? tom would think so.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, cockwarming, ft. tom’s mythical clit magic that i force into almost everyone of my fics for him, overstimulation, begging, sharp tongue banter, slight praise, tom is an infuriating bastard like always, dom!tom, slight part 2 from this.

also, thank you to my beautiful @cotttagecorewhore for the idea 🤍

He's a master of multitasking, you've learned in the passing months. Multitasking and complete self-possession, something you can see as he writes, without a break—as you sit perched in his lap, thighs on either side of his.

He's not writing anything of any particular importance—some letter, an order, some instruction for something. All of it is of little consequence to you, so you focus on the act of it instead—the way he holds the quill, the way it moves across the page in neat, angular script. He does it like it's something that requires no effort, not even a moment of thought, and you wonder if writing to him is as easy as breathing.

It's so easy to love you, you think, until your brain goes back to focusing on the feeling of him. His scent. His breath. His length buried inside you. His free hand not letting you move.

Him.

"That's a filthy habit," he murmurs, and you realize you've been biting your lip, watching his hand work across the page. "You’re breaking the skin."

"Can't help it," you grumble, and to make a point, you start biting your lip again. "I chew my lip when I'm impatient. I'm impatient right now."

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a huff and a sigh at that—and you can feel his attention shift from the page to look up at you for a moment—

"Patience, you've never had. Your only flaw, I'd say." He says, languidly taking in the sight of you before shifting his eyes back to his work. “That, and the penchant for damaging your skin."

You roll your eyes. You know he sees it.

"I didn't realize you were an expert in dermatology.”

You can feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs—a low breathless chuckle, and you can't stop yourself from shuddering.

"It's more because I don't want to taste blood when I kiss you."

When I kiss you.

You’ll never tire of words like that, and it’s the simplicity in which he says them that makes half your brain immediately short circuit.

Because it’s moments like this—and there are many of them—where you have to remind yourself to breathe, and it's almost embarrassing how easily he has that effect on you, how he can still make you dizzy from a single offhanded comment.

"I don't recall you complaining before."

You're trying very hard to make your voice sound nonchalant now, and you think you're doing a fairly good job of it, but you can feel the way your hips try to wiggle against him involuntarily, the way your hands tighten on his shoulders, digging your nails into his sweater.

He can feel it, he can definitely feel it.

"I'm not complaining now," he says, the smirk still in his voice. "Just stating my preference."

"I have a preference for you not writing right now," you toss back, and you sound whinier than you intended. "You're torturing me."

"Torture implies you're not enjoying it at all," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the page. "And I can feel how much you're enjoying it."

You can't stop yourself from shuddering again, as if half of your nerve endings are suddenly connected to him, and you bury your face in his neck.

"You're insufferable," you murmur, feeling the soft wool of his sweater against your face. "Can you feel how much I'm wishing to hex you, too?"

"I can," he replies, before his hips cant up a fraction—just the tiniest shift—pressing his throbbing dick up a little deeper into you, making you bite your lip again, and you're almost certain he's done it just so you'll react. "I far prefer the former, however."

You make an indignant sound at that, but it comes out all breathless and a little high-pitched—and it’s then that you decide to give up your attempts at sounding dignified.

"You and your fucking preferences." You hiss, half muffled against his shoulder.

"I'm nothing if not consistent," he says, and you think he actually sounds more distracted now, as if he's more focused on the wiggling of your hips against him then he is his writing. And then— "if you want something, you know you could just ask for it."

You lift your head from his shoulder at that, just so he can see the glare you're giving him now.

"I won't beg for you." You retort, and you realize halfway through that it's not quite as biting as you intended—it's hard to be biting when you can't seem to stop shuddering—when you feel so fucking full of him. "Not after this."

"I didn't say you had to beg," he whispers, and you realize his quill has stopped moving on the page. "I said you had to ask."

It takes every ounce of willpower you have to keep from rocking your hips against him again—you're not sure how much of this you're willing to take.

"And you'd actually indulge me?" You cock a suspicious eyebrow. "If I just, asked for it?"

Now his eyes have left the page completely—quill dropping from his hand as he brings it to your chin, gripping it gently, tilting your head up so he can look you in the face now. You know you're flushed—you can feel the heat crawling over your skin, your neck, probably to your ears, too.

"When have I ever denied you?" He wets his lips as he says it. "As long as you ask nicely."

"I always ask nicely," you mutter, but the effect is lost somewhat when, in your attempt to regain a semblance of control, his hips shift and his dick twitches inside you again. "Jesus—Tom, just fuck me. I can't—"

There's an instant when you think the corners of his eyes crinkle in satisfaction when you say that, and he knows just how undone you feel because he's the one who's gotten you there, and that's why he likes to take his time, because it gets you like this—

"That wasn't nicely," he tuts, tilting your head up a little further. "That was greedy. Selfish."

And there's a hitch in your breath when he says it, because as much as it rankles you to be called that, you know he's right—

"Please," you whine, slick walls clenching tight around him—craving the friction. "Please please please..."

You hoped you’d catch a hitch in his breath at that, something that shows you’re getting somewhere—but he just smiles—and it's a slow, almost cruel smile as his hand slips down to your throat, thumb running over the skin of your neck.

"Much better," he coos, and god it's so condescending you’re back to mentally hexing him. "For your efforts."

And the second he says that—you feel his magic swirling and massaging over your clit.

"Oh god," you manage, half a gasp and half a moan, your eyes squeezed shut. "Oh my god—"

It feels both instantaneous and instant—the wave of pleasure that washes through you at the exact time that the hand around your throat tightens. Another gasp gets stuck in your throat and you want to rock against him but he's holding you in place, and you have to settle for clinging on to his shoulders, clawing at him—

"Eyes open," he rasps, and you do, with an effort, the look on his face almost sinful when you manage to open them—his eyes darkened, watching you intently. "Just like that. Good. No moving."

That simple word—good—does way more to you then it has any right to, and you watch his face as the realization of how much you liked it shows there too.

"Don't be cruel," you whine again, your nails still biting into his shoulders because it's all you have, the only way to anchor yourself. "Tom—fuck—please—"

You see the way a muscle in his jaw clenches for a second—just a second—as if he's biting back a reaction.

"Relax," his hand slips to the back of your head, pulling you to rest your face against his shoulder as he goes back to writing. "I'm almost done here."

You want to make some biting comeback but you can't even think, let alone speak—the pleasure is already at a fever pitch that's almost too much, to the point where you feel like you're trembling, your muscles taut, your thighs clenching, your nails raking desperately up the wool of his sweater.

"Almost?" You manage between gasps as the sensation heightens and you can practically feel your climax prowling near. "You—you said you'd—give me what I want if I asked—"

"You're right," he's hardly focused, as if he can't be bothered in the slightest by your frantic state on his lap. "But I didn't say I'd give it to you now, did I?"

"You bastard," you gasp, your head lolling against the crook of his neck. "You're a fucking—mmffff—god—"

"Poor thing," he responds, all faux-pity as he runs a hand through your hair. "So helpless she's calling me a god."

You roll your eyes with a groan, while he just keeps writing—you can feel yourself trying to rock against him again as the pleasure is building and building and you can't find a balance—

"Tom," you gasp out, but you're not even sure what you're asking for, all you know is that it's him—it’s him and him and him. "Tom—I'm going to—you're going to make me—"

A shudder goes through him at that, barely perceptible, the smallest jerk that you're not sure anyone else would notice but you're so aware of his body and his responses that you'd never miss it—

"Go on." He urges, quietly. "I won't stop you."

You think it's probably the tone in which he says it—half pitying, half condescending—that does you in, and all you can do is bite down on his shoulder, hard, and then you're cumming, almost violently—as if something inside you snaps all at once and you're shaking with it, clawing at him, gasping for air, trying in vain not to make a sound because his dorm is not warded off yet and you're certain the rest of the school would hear if you screamed—

"Mfffff—"

You're clenching, walls fluttering around him as he lets you bite down on his shoulder as hard as you want—the shudder that goes through him at the feeling of your teeth on his skin doesn't go unnoticed, and you wonder if he likes it, if he wants you to mark him just as bad as you want to leave your claim.

"Alright," he purrs when you go limp against him, half slumped over his lap. "Alright. Relax. Good."

You feel utterly boneless and breathless against him, like you've been completely drained out of everything, still shaking a little—he's done this to you in a matter of a few minutes and you feel humiliated by the ease in which he manages it, the control—

"I hate you," you murmur breathlessly, wincing as you feel him—huge and solid, buried inside you—twitch. "Fuck, I hate you."

There’s a low, breathless hum that those words pull from him—and you feel him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, before his hand goes back to your throat, tilting your head back up.

"Don't lie," he murmurs, mouthing at your jaw. "You don't."

You're half tempted to argue otherwise, or give him some sort of biting response—but at the feeling of his mouth against your neck, you feel a fresh burst of heat flare up again and you can't seem to fight it—

"No," you breathe out, and you sound almost delirious with it now, too far gone to pretend you have any semblance of control. "I d-don't."

"That's what I thought," he hums, you can feel that smirk on your skin and you hate it and you love it simultaneously, and you wonder how it's possible to feel this many things at once. "You've always been a terrible liar."

Your lips part in response to that, but before you can get words out, he's shifting to resume his writing, and the magic on your clit starts back up again—

"Fuck! Y-you can't be serious," you manage through a mewl, because you're sure you don't have anything left to give—there's no way you can feel it again, much less so soon. "You can't just—"

"I'm not done yet," he replies, simply. "That means you aren't either."

It's almost infuriating, how simple he makes it sound, as if you don't have any say in it, as if he's going to just pull another orgasm out of you the way you'd pull a tissue out of a box—and you want to hate him for it, only you're already going back to being desperate, all your nerve endings on fire again, your fingers clenching uselessly against the dark wool—

"Tommmm" you whine, clenching around him as he twitches inside you, as the stimulation on your clit grows stronger—making your hips jerk, making you lift yourself about an inch up his shaft—just enough to make him groan—

"Fuck."

His fingers immediately fist in your hair, jerking your head back—and you love it, yet hate it, making you hate that you love it—and he makes a low, guttural sound against your neck, almost a growl.

"If you keep that up," you think it might actually be a threat now, because it’s snarled through barred teeth. "I will never finish this."

"That's—that's sort of the point," you gasp out. "I don't care if you don't finish it—I fucking need you—now—"

He makes that guttural sound against your neck again, almost as if he's biting it back—as if he needs the restraint to resist just throwing you onto the desk and having you there—

"Patience," he growls, but you can hear how breathless he is too, now, how affected he is—and that thought makes you feel insane all over again. "You think you deserve to be fucked after what you did? Hm? Slipping me that potion—tying me up—"

"Yes—yes I do—" you don't care that the sound that comes out of your mouth is most definitely a moan, that it's completely pitiful how desperate you are now—you want him, and nothing else matters. "It was just a little potion, it didn't even last that long, you were just mad I made you—"

He shakes his head, telling you without words to shut up.

"Careful," his hand slips from your hair to cover your mouth. "Don't want you to go talking yourself into trouble," his hand tightens a fraction when you try to bite at. "You might end up getting what you don't want."

He shifts under you, making you gasp against his palm, your nails biting into his shoulder as the magic on your clit twirls and swirls with just a little more intensity, enough for you to undeniably feel it—and Tom jerks his hips up into you, just enough for you to feel that, too—

You shake, forcing the words from under his palm. "Tom, please—"

It's not a whine, now—it's a keening, an almost broken sort of plea—but it's as if he doesn't hear it, or maybe he just doesn’t care, because he's continuing to speak in that low, growly rumble against your neck that's just as torturous as everything else.

"You're going to be quiet. You're going to take it," he asserts, and your eyes nearly roll back at the sheer heat of it. "Until I believe you’re deserving of more."

You have no idea if you're nodding or trying to protest, you don't even know which one you want to do because both options sound impossible to you—and you're almost hyperventilating now, the intensity almost too much and not enough all at once—you're desperate, you're aching, you're needy, and then you're falling over the edge—second orgasm shredding through you like lightening—

Oh—fucking hell—

It wrings itself out of you, violent and all consuming, but you can't make a sound—can't do anything except bite down on Tom's hand and clench your eyes shut as you fall apart—your thighs shaking, every muscle taut, your nails clawing desperately at his shoulder.

And he's murmuring things against your neck that you can't make out, holding you against him through it, making you take it in the most exquisite kind of torture—and god, you're certain he must be smiling, you're certain he loves having you like this, a broken mess on his lap, unable to speak, only whimper as he pulls his hand away with a "good girl", and urges your head to rest against his shoulder again as he resumes writing.

For the next solid minute, you still can't speak, just gasp for breath—clinging to him helplessly in the aftershock of it.

"That was two," he says, his hand trailing lazily up and down your spine. "You're in for a long night."

You want to whimper at that, because you're not sure if you can take anything more—

"How many," you manage to breathe out, your voice rasping. "How many more."

"As many as you can take," his voice is so matter-of-fact you know the bastard is smirking. "And possibly a few more after that.”

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loveyhoneydovey · 8 months ago

Text

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon riley

notes & warnings: the used pictures are only for aesthetic purposes, reader is not physically described in this. AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DNI this is an 18+ only blog. a significant age gap between simon & reader is implied but the actual number is never mentioned. if i missed anything please lmk:)

this is a completely unedited little something i wrote at 4am

reader who never fell out of love mechanic ex-boyfriend simon

you still recommend your ex-boyfriend’s garage to your friends (especially any vulnerable women) because despite your failed relationship, you’ve never met someone as trustworthy and reliable as simon

you and mechanic simon who met when you’d found a used car you wanted to purchase and wanted to have it independently inspected

reader who found this older, ruggedly handsome, stoic and yet professional mechanic who seemed to know his shit. despite the terrifying skull design resting next to his shop’s name, you trusted him immediately

not only did he inspect the car for you, but he also helped bring down its price and performed any necessary repairs at a huge discount (he never told you about this, you eventually figured it out on your own)

despite the obvious crush, he was very reluctant to pursue anything with you. not only were you his client and trusted him not to make things weird, but you were also so much younger and he felt like an old dog who was beyond learning any new tricks

you should’ve taken his warning from the beginning as he had predicted the downfall of your relationship before it’d even began

reader whose car has been acting weird for the past couple of months so you begrudgingly take it to simon’s shop

you’d actually tried taking it to some new garage in town, but had a feeling you were being lied to and overcharged when the sleazy mechanic barely spent an hour on it and said it was back like new

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who doesn’t even need 5 minutes to tell you it’s on its last leg. despite his stoic demeanor, he’s actually concerned by how you’ve been driving such a vehicle in such an unsafe state

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who starts asking till he finds a car within your budget. one he inspects himself to make sure his baby not anymore doesn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere because of faulty brakes

the fucker was ready to buy it himself, but knew you’d never accept his money (especially not after the harsh parting words you’d left each other with during your last fight)

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who’ll never love anyone more than you, but still isn’t willing to repair the broken bond between you two

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who still uses o’keeffe’s working hands cream every day cause you used to always rub it on his hands, swearing his calloused skin would soon feel like a baby’s butt (and of course you were right). he tries to mimic the way you’d gently work it into his damaged skin as the only thing he had left from you now were memories

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who never really tries to move on from you despite his apprentice’s attempts to set him up with multiple people (what’s the point of you for something he’s already found)

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who went through the army and came out even more damaged after a stint in prison. he believes nothing good will come out of such a sweet thing so full of life being chained to a grumpy old man like him

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who despite thinking all of that can’t accept the thought of you being with someone other than him

WHEW the is the first time i've written in YEARS (and i probably won't write anything for another good 5 years fjkdsw). hope you enjoyed this as much as i did!! this au idea has been rotting my brain for the past few days and i just had to let it out. feel free to dm me, leave a comment or send an ask about this au. dividers made by @anitalenia ✨

#mechanic ex-bf!simon #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #cod imagine #cod x reader #cod #call of duty x reader #call of duty #modern warfare #modern warefare ii #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost mw2 #sam's cod fics

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hon3y-y · 10 months ago

Note

your choso has rewired my brain...literally cant stop thinking about popular reader who has a new bf every week x virgin nerd choso who despite his inexperience has every intention to leave you dumb on the end of his cock. He even lets you slap his books down and talk shit about him with your little girlfriends in public, but behind closed doors you're the one crying and begging him hdjsjs definition of 'send her back to her bf w my handprint on her ass' aaaaa and if its a love story, it turns out chosos had the fattest crush on her bc he knows shes actually a sweetie at heart but loves her toxic side too and gives her the best dick until she stops playing around like THE REVERSAL 😭 he would be so sweet in his own way and so loyal and a fucking dog to her lowkey but covers it up with mean words and pussy slaps 🥺

Nerd!choso has a special place in my pants heart😵‍💫

Cw; nastyy smut, filming, infidelity(👀), choso is a little pervy but that’s why we love him🫶, talks of bodily fluids, reader is a lil mean

Enjoy<3

After the first time you fucked, he was extremely a little mad about you dating someone the next day (especially since it was his first time and you knew that) but quickly forgot about it once he had his head between your legs later that night, your mouth babbling nonsense when he sucked a little too hard.

He would purposefully leave hickies on your chest and thighs, smiling cheekily as he watched your shakey legs try to dress yourself. “Don’t look at me that way," you mumbled, your usual attitude gone and replaced with shyness under his intense gaze. Yeah, he didn’t have to worry.

Choso let's you get away with everything. the laughing, the pushing, and the taunts about how “small” he probably is from your friends (to which he nearly smirks when you stiffen slightly). He goes along with all of it and even watches you tongue-fuck your stupid boyfriend, who’s likely one hard hit to the head away from permanent brain damage. But he can’t stay mad; you look so cute trying to be tough. Eyebrows furrowed and a little hiss in your tone, knowing that the moment everyone disappears, you’re nothing but a sobbing mess, begging for him to touch you.

You’re in his room later, bent into a mating press, gasping for air as his cock clumsily batters your g-spot. “Yes—fuck, cho! "Your skin feels so hot, and your mind is so numb. Choso is nearly just as loud, already cumming two times, but watching you made it impossible to pull out. A sticky mess of both your fluids caused gooey strings to form whenever he moved away, the erotic sight making him pull out and reach for his phone. “W-what are you—"

You tried to sit up when the light of a camera flashed in your eyes, making you gasp before he tilted it down, focusing on your pussy. “Look at how wet she is.” He reaches out to touch, making your hips jerk in sensitivity. He plays with your wetness, making your cheeks hot, showing off the substance to the camera before placing his finger on your hole to tap at the new cream that seeped out.

You went to pull your legs closed. "E-enough, Choso." You sent him a glare, making him laugh before leaning down to kiss your cunt. He pointed the camera up to catch your shocked face, and you glanced at it again. “Why are you filming this? I never said—"

You squeal as he nips your clit, immediately shutting up but sending him a harsh glare. He kisses your thigh at your compliance. “Do you really not want me to?” He stared up at you, putting little pecks on your bud, making your breath hitch. You shook your head, ‘no’, “fuck, I don’t care, just make me cum,” you whine, pushing his head down. You jolt up, your eyes widening, when you feel the stinging slap on your pussy.

You’re about to speak when he does it again and again, each hit harder than the previous one, a yelp of surprise escaping you as he forces the light in your eyes again, making you squint. “You’re such a slut, it’s almost pathetic." His harsh words make you pout, mumbling about how mean he is. “I’m mean? Tell the camera why you came here.” You bite your lip, looking away, causing him to grab your chin and force you to look. “I’m not asking.”

It feels humiliating: “He couldn’t make me cum.” Your voice is quiet, but you could practically feel the cocky smile on Choso's face. “Who’s he?” You want to die, shaking your head. He rolled his eyes, tapping on your cheek to signal you to talk. With a sigh, you repeat yourself, “My boyfriend couldn’t make me cum.” Choso mockingly coos behind the camera, his thumb going to rub your swollen bud. “And how many times have you cum since getting here?”

He pans the camera back and forth between your needy pussy and pretty face, your sweaty skin glistening under the intense lighting making his cock impossibly harder. You look so delicate, just helplessly taking the pleasure he gives you because your body needs him so bad. Tears gather in your waterline whenever he applies more pressure, eyes zeroing in on the slick that starts to drip down your ass.

You can’t answer, your jaw hanging open when he quickened his pace. Your chest is heaving as you chanted out ‘please!’ hips thrusting up to meet him until you quickly cum with a shutter, choso slowing but not stopping as you relax again. You look up to the camera with a tired smile, holding up your hands to signal four, your eyes could barely remain open, head flopping back into the pillow. your eyes are getting heavy, nearly having you succumb to sleep when you feel his tip align with your cunt. “Flip over, slut.”

He forces you to film yourself as he pounds into you from behind, crying when he leans down to tug at your sore nipples. He forces your back to arch more, pathetically taking his cock into your swollen pussy. If you drop the camera, he’ll wait until you pick it up again. Or, he’ll snatch it from your hand to catch you desperately rutting against him, begging him to let you cum and “fuck you right." He does just that, leaving you with a fried brain and a puddle of your own drool, tears, and juices from how intensely he made you squirt.

Honestly, he’s so horny and has so much stamina he’ll just keep going until he’s shooting blanks, making sure to point the camera at the cum that leaks out of your puffy cunt, spreading your lips so it can closely get your gaping hole. Of course, after he’s had his fun, he’ll gently take care of you. You’re practically sleeping already, barely being able to speak as he nods along to your near incoherent praise, “S'good t’me. Luv you so much."He smiles, a giddy feeling in his tummy, as he holds a water bottle to your lips, which you gulp down quickly, not realizing how dehydrated you really were. He tucks you in, cuddling as you grip onto him tightly.

It’s not long after that you stop seeing the guy you were with, or any for that matter (at least, according to your friends' knowledge). When they ask what happened, you just shrug, making up some excuse, trying not to stutter as the vibrations in your panties speed up. Choso watches closely, smiling happily as you try to discreetly roll your hips<3

A/n: I need him so bad it’s getting to me. Also, send request bc writers block is a btch. Mwah💋

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remlionheart · 10 months ago

Text

“You came.”

“You called.”

✧˚ · .MDNI 18+✧˚ · .

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ WHEWWWW. I had no idea when I first started writing this just how much it was going to suck me in. Sweet/toxic!Megumi had my brain doing fuckin' wheelies. All characters are aged up. 21+. Fem!reader x Megumi. AU where Megumi was raised by Toji and is navigating adulthood while still carrying around those old parental wounds. Hurt comfort / angst / smut. porn with a plot. praise kink girlies, this is for you. 3.6k words. super proud of this, lemme know whatcha think. luv you <3 ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It’d been 4 months since the last time Megumi had seen you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He’d woken up in what used to be your apartment with the taste of liquor from the night before still lingering on his tongue and unwanted snippets of your latest fight still ringing in his ears. He rolled over to see you curled up on your side, as far away from him as you could possibly get while still sharing the same bed. He ran a hand over his face, regret and nausea churning in his stomach while more flashbacks of the argument that had caused the divide between you smashed through his mind.

His footsteps were heavy as he made his way into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He turned the water up as hot as it would go before stripping out of his boxers. He wanted to sweat out the guilt he felt. Wanted to burn away the insults you’d both thrown at each other. Wanted to focus on anything else besides the way he’d made you cry.

He winced when the water made contact with his skin. It was scalding, fanning across his back with vengeance. But it was vengeance that he felt he deserved.

“Why?” His eyes closed, remembering how hard you were trying to keep yourself together despite the obvious pain that was plaguing your small body. The way your lip had quivered and the way your arms had protectively wrapped around your stomach when you looked up at him. “Why can’t you ever just tell me what’s going on with you?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to.

God, he wanted to. To open up. To tell you all of the fucked-up things that went on in his head. To voice his insecurities so that maybe they’d finally stop repeating on the same never-ending loop that they had been stuck on his whole life. To tell you that he didn’t think he was enough. To tell you that he was scared to lose you. That it was something he thought about nearly every day.

But it wasn’t that easy. He was only capable of doing what he knew, and he had absolutely no fucking idea how to deal with his own vulnerability. Let alone express it in a way that wasn't damaging to both of you.

Being raised by Toji had been like taking a master class in emotional avoidance and Megumi was very much his father’s prodigy.

He knew how to argue. He knew how to deflect. He knew how to win a fight. He knew how to manipulate a conversation so that he never had to say more than he wanted to. And he didn’t just know how to do these things, he excelled at them.

It was why he had always been so reserved. It was why he’d beat up all those kids in middle school just for looking at him. It was why at 21, rather than saying “I’m sorry” to resolve an ongoing issue with his girlfriend, he’d opted for, “Then fucking leave" instead.

He stepped out of the shower with red welts decorating his back and sweat dripping down his face. He wiped the steam away from the mirror to reveal blood-shot eyes as he wrapped a towel around his waist. His midnight hair was unusually straight and flat, pressed loosely against his forehead.

He let out an exhale, trading in his introspection for detachment when he heard the bathroom door open.

You observed him quietly, noting his reddened skin and his apparent discomfort at seeing you.

Your head tilted slightly, looking over his clenched jaw and the way his shoulders never truly relaxed. It hurt to see him and it hurt even worse to not see him, but as he stared back at you through hooded eyes, you realized that you had wasted so much time searching for softness in a place you’d never find it.

Megumi Fushiguro was beautifully broken. An intricate stained-glass mural that had been shattered by undeserving hands. Mesmerizing to look at but much too rigid to touch. And though he shined perfectly in the right lighting, your mangled fingertips were begging you to finally put the pieces down.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s nothing...” You shook your head, taking in his sharp edges for what you assumed would be the last time. “You just look like him… that’s all.”

His chest tightened, a rare, visible crack forming in his usual cold demeanor as he stared back at you. He’d been able to avoid everything he didn’t want to deal with in life, everything – until he met you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A pint of whiskey loomed back at him from his nightstand as he ran a hand through his spiked hair, lethargically watching the ceiling fan spin above him.

His vision was hazy, his body tired from training all day. He wanted to sleep. Wanted to close his eyes and drift off for a few hours, but he knew his mind wasn’t going to grant him that mercy.

So, he drank.

Light rain tapped against his window as he held the bottle to his lips, letting a comforting burn travel down his throat while he pulled his phone out from under his pillow.

You had become a ghost in his life after that morning. A memory that he kept buried so far down, he’d almost partially convinced himself that you were actually gone. You were a late-night whisper that he’d ignore. A song on the radio that he’d immediately turn off. A stabbing, fleeting thought he’d learned to block out on his way home from work.

He had given up going to his favorite restaurants and shops in fear that you might be there. He had cut all ties with Nobara since you guys were so close, not wanting to hear anything about you. He had isolated himself to work and his apartment, not allowing himself the chance to accidentally bump into you.

He’d taken so many precautions. Did everything he possibly could to not see you. And yet, he was gradually starting to realize that maybe it’d all been in vain. That even with how much his life had changed, he was still somehow doing the exact same thing he’d done when he was with you.

After all this time, he was still running.

With one last swig, he finished off his pint and grabbed his phone again, not allotting himself enough time to backpedal.

Dialing your number was like muscle memory even with how long it'd been since he'd done it. He wasn't sure what he was going to say if you answered. He definitely wasn't sure what he was going to say tomorrow if you didn't answer. All he knew was that he was finally done avoiding you.

“Megumi…?” your voice was warm, familiar, static against his ear.

“You’re up late.”

There was a pause followed by a reluctant, “Yeah… so are you.”

He mentally kicked himself as an unsure silence settled between the two of you. He had so many things he needed to say but quickly realized that he couldn’t say any of them now that he was here.

His feelings were heavy and important and way too repressed to be spilled out over a late-night phone call. “I know it’s raining, and whatever but…” He cleared his throat. “Are you busy…?”

“Right now?” He couldn’t help but smirk at your snarky, half-hearted laugh. “I mean, it’s 1:30 in the morning. So, no. Not really.”

“Good. Come over.”

“Wait a minute, you can’t just –”

But he already had.

He ended the call, abruptly cutting off your flimsy attempt at protesting him before sending you a text with his address and standing up to dig a black t-shirt out of his closet.

His apartment was damn near spotless aside from some empty whiskey bottles littering his nightstand, but he still made compulsive laps back and forth from his bedroom to his kitchen as he threw them away and cracked a couple of windows open to let some fresh air in. It was an odd feeling, knowing that you were going to be standing in the one place that didn’t remind him of you.

He checked his phone while heading into the bathroom. You hadn't said anything, but he knew you well enough to know that you were probably only minutes away by now.

He ran contemplative fingers through his hair, making sure each spike was pointed and curled up to his satisfaction. He hated to admit it, but your words had been haunting his reflection since the morning they left your mouth. He had become painfully aware of how much his eyes, his mannerisms, his facial structure all resembled the man he didn't want to become.

His past may have already been accounted for but as he heard the knock at his front door, he finally began to see something different in the mirror that once taunted him. He watched his stare soften and his shoulders loosen. He noted how much tension his body had let go of at just the thought of you. He was about to let his guard down in the biggest way possible and instead of having a visceral reaction, he felt ready.

With one last glance at himself, he let out a decisive breath and headed down the hall. The future was in his hands and even if he did have his father's features, he knew his grasp was much steadier.

You were in an oversized grey hoodie with your hair thrown into a loose side-bun, your shorts just barely visible and your skin damp from the rain.

Neither one of you said anything, both too busy studying the person in front of you to bother with words. Your eyes trailed over him with warranted skepticism, an internal battle between logic and emotion arising the longer you looked at him.

He could see it; he could feel it - the way you wanted to trust him but couldn't.

"You came." he finally said, his voice gentler than you remembered it being.

You shrugged, almost embarrassed by your own honesty.

"You called."

The two of you exchanged the same somber smile before he nodded for you to follow him.

The smell of his cologne mixed with spring air swirled around you as you walked into his room. His walls were covered in art - framed line work, oil paintings, black and grey portraits. Everything was strategically placed and organized. His bed made neatly with white sheets and a black duvet. It was all very him.

He leaned against the wall in front of you as you took a seat on the edge of his mattress.

“How’ve you been?”

It should've been an easy question and under different circumstances, it probably would've been.

But it was late and you were on his bed and he looked beautiful and you wished he didn't and the weight of the situation was suddenly hitting you all at once.

“I've been alright.” You lied, repositioning yourself. "Just busy with classes and stuff. What about you...?"

He watched the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shorts. The way you shifted your weight as you dangled one leg off of the bed and held the other against your chest.

“Quit.”

You paused, your gaze reluctantly returning to his. “Quit what?”

“Being nervous.” He pushed himself away from the wall and sat down next to you, heeding his own advice. “I just have some stuff I need to say, that's all."

You gave him a slow nod, letting go of the loose piece of thread.

His legs were spread slightly, his elbows resting on his thighs and his chin in his hands as he looked over at you. "You were right."

He had officially gained your attention with that one simple admission.

"I do need to open up more, it's just -" He took a breath, determination flickering through his eyes. "It's just fucking hard, you know? But that's not an excuse. I'm sorry. Truly. I'm sorry for everything I did to you while we were together. I should've said it the last time I saw you. I should've said it months before that. I should've just said it at least a hundred times. But I didn't, so I'm saying it now." His hand was warm as he carefully reached for yours. "I shouldn't have shut you out like I did. You're... the one person I never wanted to push away... I love you."

It felt as though all of the oxygen had been stripped from the room, your heart forgetting how to beat while you looked back at him in awe. Your thoughts were everywhere. The war of logic versus emotion still violently raging on.

His fingers laced into yours and you let them. His grasp felt safe and secure. His eyes were full of a sense of patience and vulnerability that you didn't think you'd ever seen before.

"Don't let him do this to you again." Nobara had warned you on your drive over here. "He might care about you. Hell, he might even really love you, but he doesn't know how and you can't keep making that your problem over and over again. It's not fair."

"Look..." Your breathing was uneven, your voice giving away your internal struggle no matter how hard you tried to conceal it. "I forgive you, but we... can't. I mean, we can't just keep doing this over and over. It's... not fair." It had held so much more conviction when it came from your best friend, but it was the best you could manage.

His hand disappeared from yours, wandering up to your cheek to catch tears that you didn't even realize had fallen. "Okay..." he conceded.

His tone was despondent, but his touch was soft. Light fingertips glided along your jawline, his face only centimeters apart from yours. "Then we won't."

"We won't." You repeated back to him, trying desperately to ignore the way his exhale fanned felicitously across your lips.

"Because..." You swallowed hard, watching his gaze drift carefully across your face. "We shouldn't."

He shook his head in agreement. "Absolutely shouldn't." He whispered, his hand trailing up to the back of your neck.

"And..." Emotion was putting up the fight of its life, your pupils widening as you stared back at him. "I deserve better."

"So much better." he echoed, leaning in closer, his mouth just barely grazing yours. "You deserve the fucking world."

Your body was betraying every bit of your sentiment, your breath hitching in your throat while his fingers tangled into your hair. "Megumi... you can't..."

"I'm not." his voice was like honey, his lips still ghosting yours. "All you have to do is pull away." His other hand began to slide delicately up your thigh, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. "Pull away and I'll walk you back to your car. We'll act like none of this ever happened."

"Megumi, please." It was a whimper. A pathetic plea that held no real merit. You weren't sure if you were begging for him to touch you or not touch you.

"I won't call you again. Won't see you again." His nails began to dig into the tenderness your inner thigh, his eyes still locked fiercely with yours. "I'll leave you alone for good this time... That's what you want, right?"

Wetness seeped between your legs as he kept on toying with the opening of your shorts. The warmth of his hand so infuriatingly close to where you wanted it and where it shouldn't be. Your already weak resolve was crumbling.

"Tell me to stop."

His forehead pressed against yours, opposite hand still holding your neck in place. "Tell me." He tried again, but all of your words had been stolen by the feeling of his palm roaming up towards your center.

With only a thin layer of fabric separating his fingers from you, he slowly began to spread you apart. If he hadn't been able to see your desperation before, he could certainly feel it now.

He watched every last bit of composure you had vanish as he started to draw soft, heavenly circles around your clit. Drowning in the little yelps and whines that you were trying so hard to bite back.

"Tell me to fucking stop."

There was suddenly no logic left in your brain. No one in control. No way to fight the way he was making you feel. You were a needy, pining mess and your body was practically groveling for him.

You finally let your lips catch his, shamelessly moaning against him while his grip tightened in your hair. "Don't -" You let out between heady breaths. "Don't stop. Please don't ever stop."

You were lost somewhere between his feral ocean eyes and the way his tongue swirled around yours.

He pulled the fabric to the side, plunging two unexpected fingers inside of you, smirking at the surprised squeal it'd gained him.

"Oh, that's my girl." He groaned, watching your eyes double in size.

Your walls were swallowing him, clenching around him shamelessly while more uncontrollable noises filled the room.

His thumb brushed against your clit, rubbing back and forth with precision as his fingers continued to slam into you. The three of them working together in perfect synchronicity. "There you go, that’s it.”

It had been so long. You knew it wouldn't take much, but you still felt pathetic when you realized you were already there. "Megumi- 'm -"

It almost caught both of you off guard how little it took. Your eyes snapped shut, your bottom lip lodged between your teeth as you soaked him. Your hips were thrusting, your pussy unapologetically dripping all over his hand while you mewled and writhed against him.

"Poor thing. Has it really been that long?"

It was somehow sweet, the way he mocked you.

His movements became more urgent, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to your feet so that he could help you out of your clothes. Your hoodie went first, your nipples hardening as you stood in front of him.

"So fucking pretty." He praised, still sitting on the edge of the bed. His hands were warm against your waist, tugging off your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, admiring the shiny slick glistening off of your cunt.

He took a moment to look you over, quietly memorizing every inch before his own pants were tossed aside.

Your legs straddled him as he guided you on top of him, his hands placed firmly on your hips. You drew in a shallow breath, watching him rub his tip against you, wetting himself with your cum before lining his cock up with your entrance.

You slowly lowered yourself onto him, basking in that familiar, heavenly stretch he always provided you with.

“Fuuuck.”

You weren’t sure which one of you had said it, too drunk off of the way he filled you to care.

His hands were still guiding you. Uppp and dowwwnnn, not quite letting you take the full thing just yet but still giving you plenty to keep you satisfied.

You watched his reaction to the way you rode him, smiled when you noticed his eyes starting to roll back. You were grinding against him, drawing out the prettiest sounds from him with your hands clasped behind his neck.

“You’re s’fucking…” he grunted, his words suddenly harder to get out. “tight… Jesus Christ, baby. You really didn’t fuck anyone else for 4 months, did you?”

It wasn’t like you had been trying to hide it, but it was still irritating that your body sold you out before you even had the chance to have that conversation with him.

You shook your head sheepishly, a faint warmth decorating your cheeks. “Didn’t -” he was pulling you down further this time, purposefully going deeper as he watched you struggle to form a proper setence. “Didn’t - want… t- to…”

“Didn’t want anyone else inside of you, huh?” His tone was breathy, condescending almost as he continued to maneuver you to his liking. “Didn’t want anyone else to fill up this tight fucking cunt besides me, is that it baby?”

You shook your head again, this time a bit more feverishly while he continued to force your weight down onto him. Your ass now smacking against his thighs with each pump into you.

“I -” you moaned, unable to hold it together the further down you went. “I just want you. O - only you.”

He kissed you, his tongue gently parting your lips as he slowly eased you down onto his length. “I love you.” He whispered.

You tried to say it back but it was lost entirely by the way he thrusted upward without warning and slammed every last blissful inch of himself into you.

Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth dropping open at the feeling of his tip hitting your cervix. You were a dizzy, pouty, leaky mess, looking at him with stars in your eyes as he smirked back at you. "You’re okay, baby. You can take it.”

He had you tilted at just the right angle, lined up beautifully with your g-spot. You were taking in all you could, hips hungrily rocking back and forth against him.

"You're doing so good. Just like that."

You were practically delirious, already teetering on the verge of climax when his thumb found your clit again, creating more featherlight circles and more delicious, hopeless yelps from you.

"Megumi," his name practically echoed across the room, your walls starting to smother him. "I - fuck, baby ‘m -" You tried to bury your face into his shoulder, but he wouldn't let you. His free hand was quickly under your chin, forcing your attention back on him.

"Look at me." his voice was low but thoughtful, his fingers still working relentlessly against you. "Let me fucking see it."

It was enough to break you. To have you suddenly spasming around him as you soaked him. He didn’t stop though no matter how much you squirmed against him. No matter how incredibly loud your cries became. He continued to stretch you, bullying himself into you while still teasing your clit until you were both absolutely shaking.

His lips crashed into yours, hand tangled back into your hair when you felt him start to twitch inside you, filling you up as he groaned against your mouth.

“I love you.” You whispered this time, earning an exhausted smile from him.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, admiring the mess he’d made out of you before kissing you again, lavishly this time as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

It was all so natural, so right. As if no time had passed at all between you two. And maybe you were biased because of where you were currently sitting, but his once rough edges looked pretty smooth from this angle.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

#jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro #jjk x reader #jjk smut #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #megumi smut #megumi x angst #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi smut #jjk x you #toxic!megmi #jjk fanfic

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whytheylosttheirminds · 3 months ago

Text

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 7)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

“You should put that down.”

Rafe stood in the doorway, glaring at you as you held up the gun you’d discovered in his father’s office. Your mind was whirling with questions as you looked back at him, the sunlight leaking through the windows reflected off the giant pile of gold and onto your face.

“What is all of this, Rafe?” You nearly whispered, your stomach twisting in sickened awe.

“Put the gun down,” his eyes were dark and his jaw clenched as he stalked toward you, arm outstretched.

You just looked back at the treasure you had uncovered, mesmerized by the enormity of it. There had to be hundreds of millions of dollars worth of gold and precious stones here. You weren’t even thinking of the gun in your hand when he reached you, taking it from you slowly and tucking it into his waistband.

He crowded your space with his towering frame, his stare menacing. You looked up at him nervously.

“You shouldn’t have come in here,” he growled.

“Rafe, you’re scaring me,” you warned him, your bottom lip quivering slightly.

“What are you doing tearing my house apart? Were you looking for the cross?” His mind was clearly somewhere else, flooded with a paranoia you’d never seen before. His pupils were dilated to pinpoints as he asked you questions you didn’t understand.

You started to back up and he followed you, his chest heaving as he berated you. “Is that why you came back, huh? Are you trying to get the gold? Are you working with those fucking pogues?”

With every sentence he stepped closer, and you continued to back away from him. You’d never seen him like this, so menacing, so unhinged.

“It wasn’t enough for you to break my heart?” His voice got louder with every word. The back of your legs hit the edge of his father’s wooden desk, nowhere left to go. “You had to come back to take what’s MINE?!”

On the last word, he raised his hand to gesture to the gold behind him, and you flinched. A terrified gasp left your lips and your eyes widened at the hand he was waving so close to your face.

Rafe’s whole body fell when he noticed your response. It dawned on him slowly, you flinched because you thought he was going to hit you. The fear on your face snapped him back to reality. You were scared of him.

“Baby, I-” he tried to rest his hand on your cheek but you jerked away from him, ducking under his arm so you were no longer pinned between him and the desk.

“Stay away from me,” your voice shook as you crossed the room to put space between yourself and Rafe.

Rafe took you in, your eyes wide like an animal caught in a trap. His heart shattered at the thought that you, the only person in the world he didn’t want to be intimidated by him, truly believed that he was about to hurt you. Tears stung his bottom lashes and he searched for the words to undo the damage he’d just done. As he looked at you cowering in the corner, barely able to meet his eyes, he realized he suddenly wasn’t seeing you anymore, he was seeing Sarah.

“It’s me, Rafe - your sister,” She had cried when he lunged for her, before she couldn’t speak anymore because he was holding her under the water.

He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since he’d heard those words. His brain never gives him reprieve from the crushing guilt of seeing her gasp for air, trying to flee him, fearing for her life due to her big brother’s temper. He hadn’t meant it, he wished he could take it back. Now Sarah would hate him forever, she’d made that much clear. Was he about to lose you the way he lost her? He’d find a way to manage through life without his sister, but if you stopped loving him, he might just sink into the floor and die.

“Baby, please, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he tried to keep his voice steady as he raised his hands, like he was trying to prove they weren’t dangerous.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, tears flowing freely now.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Just please come back over here,” he begged.

“No, I don’t trust you” you sobbed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” his voice was pained. “I would never hurt you.”

“Something’s wrong with you, Rafe,” you spat. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Where’d that gold come from? What’s the cross? Is it the reason you were arrested?”

“I can’t,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to maintain his composure even though he could feel his blood pressure rising again. “It’s just business stuff. It’s not important.”

You snorted bitterly, “clearly.”

“Why can’t you just mind your fucking business?” He bit back, unable to control his tongue.

That was your final straw. “I’m leaving,” you said as you hurried out of the room.

“No, no, wait!” Rafe called after you, following you into the hall.

“If you don’t want to be honest with me, then I don’t want to be here,” you don’t turn around, even though he’s right on your heel.

He stepped in front of you, his long legs besting yours. You step back instinctually and he cursed himself silently for losing your trust.

“Don’t go,” he begged, grabbing your hand. “Don’t go back to them. Stay here, be with me, we can finally have the life we wanted. I have the money now, I have everything. I can be the man you need. We can do this, finally.”

“I can’t be with someone I don’t really know,” you shook your head.

“What are you talking about? It’s me,” he actually smiled, as though he could charm his way out of the massive hole he’s dug. You snatched your hand away.

“That means nothing to me now,” you snarled, side-stepping him and fleeing quickly down the stairs.

He watched you go, feeling like his heart was being dragged with you, an emptiness left in his chest. He watched the hem of your dress as it flew behind you, and you disappeared like you had so many painful times before.

Three Years Earlier…

“This color was made for you!” Sarah chirped happily as she applied one of her MAC lipsticks to your lips.

You fought back your smile so you could keep your lips steady for her to finish applying the makeup.

“Okay,” she said as she passed you her hand held mirror so you could inspect the full face of makeup she’d spent the last hour applying for you. “All done!”

You smiled at your reflection, you had never been particularly skilled at makeup, preferring a natural look. It helped that you had a boyfriend who constantly told you how gorgeous you were without it. “Don’t need all that shit on your face, baby, you’re already perfect,” he’d say.

But you wanted tonight to be different, you wanted his jaw to drop to the floor when he saw you. Plus his eyes wouldn’t be the only ones on you tonight, this being the first time you’d be attending Midsummers together as an official couple. Everyone on the island knew you’d been together since forever but, as Rafe had pointed out when he’d asked you to go with him a few weeks ago, you had never made a formal debut.

“Need everyone on this damn island to know you’re my girl,” he had whispered in your ear as he held you in the bed of his new truck while you stargazed by the beach.

“I think it’s pretty clear,” you giggled. “We already spend every waking second together.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he explained. “I wanna see their dumbstruck faces when they see the most beautiful girl in the OBX walking in with me.”

You nuzzled into him lovingly, “you’re too nice to me.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

“Impossible,” he shook his head, making you laugh as his nose rubbed against yours playfully. “You deserve all the niceness. You deserve all the good things, ‘n when we’re older, I’m gonna give you everything.”

“I don’t want everything,” you said, making his brow furrow slightly. “I just want you. You’re all I ever wanted.”

He knew he’d never hear more perfect words in his life, and he’d spend forever keeping them true.

Three weeks later, you were getting ready for Midsummers with Sarah, while Wheezie watched you wistfully from the corner. You sat on a tufted pedestal in the middle of Sarah’s walk-in closet as she added a few more bobby pins to secure the up-do she had crafted for you.

Wheezie wasn’t old enough for Midsummers yet and would be left home with a babysitter, an arrangement she made very clear she didn’t agree with.

“You’re so pretty,” she pouted. “Are you gonna marry my brother?”

You went red, completely caught off guard by her intrusive question.

“Oh! Well, I, uh,” you tried to think of an appropriate answer that a ten year-old would understand.

“Wheezie!” Sarah scolded her, saving you from having to respond. “You can’t just ask somebody that.”

You smiled up at her gratefully as she shielded your eyes from the hairspray she was adding to the front of your head.

“But of course she is, they’re like made for each other,” she continued.

Though you were slightly caught off guard by her abruptness, your cheeks hurt from the smile you failed to stifle. You loved the idea that it was so obvious to everyone else, it made you feel like your certainty that you’d already found the love of your life at seventeen wasn’t so crazy after all. Your mother would call you naive, but here in this house with the family that already felt like yours, you had never felt so sure that he was your forever.

“You’re all done!” Sarah beamed at you as she stepped away so you could stand and look at yourself in the full length mirror.

You tried to hide your blush, not wanting to seem conceited, but you felt absolutely beautiful. You wore a white dress, the snug bodice hugging your torso while the flowy skirt swooshed dreamily with every step you took. You had borrowed everything from Sarah, your mom refusing to take you shopping for an event she fundamentally protested, both for the flashy kook-iness of it all and the fact that you’d be going as a pseudo-Cameron - her worst nightmare.

“You did such a good job!” You told Sarah, leaning closer to the mirror. “Thank you so much!”

“Anything for my future sister-in-law,” she nudged you with her elbow. “Oh, wait! One more thing!”

She padded into her room and returned quickly, holding a stunning, sparkly diamond necklace.

“Oh, Sarah,” you said, eyes widening at the blinding jewels. “It’s too much.”

“It was my mom’s,” Sarah explained. “And it doesn’t go with my dress. But she’d want it to be worn for sure.”

You teared up a bit as she fastened it around your neck, the sunlight pouring through the tall windows causing the diamonds to glimmer against your skin. You blinked fast trying not to ruin your makeup, or let the girls know how emotional you were getting, but Sarah caught your eye in the mirror and gave you a knowing smirk.

Before you could thank her again, the wind was knocked out of you by Wheezie, who threw her arms around your waist and hugged you tight from behind.

“Please marry my brother,” she said with her face squished against your back, causing her words to come out in a funny whine. “He’s so much nicer when you’re around.”

You laughed and turned around to hug her back. “Aww, Wheeze! Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked up at you with a pout, “I wish I could go to Midsummers, and be as pretty as you.”

“Oh, but you are!” You assured her. You grabbed the lipstick Sarah had used on you from the vanity and dabbed some onto her lips. “There,” you smiled down at her. “Now we match!”

She beamed at you and skipped over to the mirror, smiling wildly at her reflection. Sarah rolled her eyes amusedly at her.

“Time to go,” she reminded you, handing you a pair of heels she had picked out for you.

Rafe checked his watch anxiously as he paced back and forth at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t sure why, but tonight just felt like a big night. His dad and Rose knew you well, you had been around the mansion everyday since you were kids, but they never fully accepted how serious Rafe was about you. Whenever he’d bring you up in conversation, they’d give each other a knowing smirk that made him feel like he was five and they were discussing whether it was time for him to go to B-E-D.

The truth was, while he said tonight was about showing the island how serious he was about you, it was really about showing Ward. Maybe if his dad could see how mature he was around you, he’d finally acknowledge that you’re good for him and give his wholehearted blessing.

But proving that the two of you were mature was going to be hard to do if you showed up late. Ward and Rose were already at the club, they were the co-chairs of this year’s event, which put even more pressure on the evening.

Just as Rafe was about to yell to hurry you and Sarah along, you appeared at the top of the steps.

It was like he’d been punched in the gut, the way the air left his body. Everything stilled as he watched you descend the steps, floating to him like an angel in white. When you made it to the second to last step, you were finally at his eyeline, you gazed at him with a twinkle in your eye.

“Hey mister,” you said sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist, thumbs circling your skin through the soft fabric of your dress.

“How are you real?” He mumbled, eyes wide with infatuation.

“You’re too nice to me,” you giggle.

As your chest rose with your laughter, his eyes caught the necklace Sarah had given you. Your smile faded, taking in the way his lips curved down slightly as he realized where the necklace came from. Maybe wearing his mother’s necklace was a step too far, maybe he’d feel like it was a violation somehow. He didn’t like to talk about his mom, the memory too painful, and here you were wearing a big, shimmering reminder of her on what was supposed to be a special night.

“I can take it off,” you offered, removing your hands from him to reach back and unclasp it.

He stopped you, gently grabbing your arm and bringing it down to your side.

“No,” he said softly, eyes beginning to water. “It’s perfect. She would’ve loved you.”

You reach your other hand up to his cheek, gently thumbing away the teardrop that had slipped through.

“I love you,” you whispered soothingly.

“I love you, too,” he said before placing a peck to your lips. “Even though you’re making us late.”

With his teasing remark, he lifted you by your waist and spun you around, whisking you off the stairs. You yelped in surprise and smacked his arm playfully when he set you down. You stumbled slightly on your heels, being swept off your feet throwing your balance off.

“Woah there, baby,” Rafe laughed, grabbing your hips to steady you. “What were you three doing up there, pre-gaming?”

“No, just wedding planning,” Sarah said from the top of the stairs as she and Wheezie descended.

You and Rafe both jumped slightly, too lost in your intimate moment to have noticed their arrival.

“Wedding planning, huh?” Rafe smiled at you.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be the flower girl!” Wheezie informed the room, making your eyebrows shoot up as you chuckled at her excitement for your fictional wedding.

“Nah, Wheeze,” Rafe said, grabbing your hand and his truck keys off the hook by the door. “If you’re the flower girl then who will be my best man?”

“You promise?” She asked hopefully.

“‘Course, I need my best bud up there with me,” He told her, winking at you as you looked up at him with a loving look that made his heart soar.

The evening hadn’t even technically begun yet and you already felt like you gained a husband and two little sisters. Your future was a bright, glowing light on the horizon. Rafe had told you someday he would give you everything, but he didn’t understand - he already had.

Now…

It was too late to make it to the actual rehearsal, but you had plenty of time to swing by the dinner. You pulled up outside the nice restaurant on the water that Chip had rented out, surely burning through his life savings to do so, not that your mother would care.

You followed the sound of classical music and echoing voices around the back of the restaurant to the patio overlooking the ocean, black tie party in full swing. The crowd chattered with small talk as you searched the sea of people for your mother. You saw her standing by the champagne table, talking with some of the ladies she played tennis with. You steeled yourself with a deep breath and approached the group.

“...they had to sell their house in Cabo-” the ladies’ gossip was cut off as all of their heads turned to you, eyes wide in surprise at your arrival.

“Don’t let me interrupt, ladies, just wanted to let my mother know I’m here,” you smiled at them, trying to recall the way you used to charm all the adults at these kinds of events.

Your mother smiled tightly, trying to play off her surprise, but you could read her better than anyone and you knew she was not happy to see you.

“Excuse me, everyone,” your mother set her champagne flute down and wrapped her hand around your arm. “Just need to catch up with my beautiful daughter real quick.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessar-” your mother cut you off, squeezing your arm hard as she pulled you away. “Okay, okay, geez.”

Once she had led you away from the crowd, around the corner of the restaurant, out of view but not totally out of earshot, she whispered, “where the hell have you been?”

“What are you talking about?” You weren’t whispering, and her eyes shot past you to make sure no one could hear. “You kicked me out, remember?”

“I didn’t- keep your voice down first of all,” she said, making you roll your eyes, “and I did not kick you out, you ran away.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, mom.” You really had come here to try to make things right with her, but you couldn’t help the rise she got out of you, her tone so condescending.

“Were you with him?” She asked.

“No,” you didn’t even think about the lie, it was just your instinct. You’d been lying to your mother about Rafe your whole life.

“Oh really?” Your mother raised her eyebrows. “Then why did I get a call from the credit card company asking if I authorized a bail payment at the Kildare County Sheriff's Office? And why did I hear from three of my friends that they saw you running out of the Cameron’s driveway this morning crying?”

“These kooks really need to get some hobbies,” you huffed.

“Don’t change the subject!” She snapped, trying and failing to keep her voice to a whisper.

“Well if you already knew the answer then why are you interrogating me?” You snapped back.

“You know what? Everyone has already seen you and I don’t want to have to answer more embarrassing questions about you, so you can stay for dinner, but then I’m done. I don’t want any more drama surrounding my wedding. When we’re done with toasts, you can go back to him and we’ll just stop trying to force the happy family act.”

You sighed heavily, “I can’t.”

“You can’t sit politely through one dinner?”

“No, I can't… go back to him. He’s, uh, that’s over.” You saw what could almost be mistaken for concern flash through your mother’s eyes, but she quickly regained her impassive composure.

“Well, that’s not my problem. You wanted to be an adult? You got it. You’re on your own,” she squared her shoulders, stepping back from you and returning to the party.

You just rolled your eyes, your mother always made empty threats. You knew if you did what she wanted and smiled your way through the party, not drawing too much attention to yourself, she’d forgive you by the end of the night and soon you’d be sleeping in your own bed again.

So you returned to the party, the picture of a dutiful daughter. You made small talk, carefully weaving a web of little white lies to cover up what you’d really been up to for the past two years. You listened to the toasts from your mother’s friends, faking a pretty, charming laugh as they made terrible jokes. Finally, Chip stood, tinking his fork against his champagne glass and clearing his throat. You turned to watch his speech.

Chip began with the story of how he met your mom, and she beamed at him as he spoke. Even though you were angry with her, it made you happy to see her so in love. Chip was so…uncomplicated. You ached for the days when your love felt so simple and clear.

“...what I love most about my soon-to-be-wife is…” Chip’s words faded. “I love that she, uh-” You followed Chips’s distracted stare to the back of the patio, where you found Rafe leaning against the brick wall of the restaurant. He had put on a suit, looking like he was just another party guest. The blood drained from your face at the sight of him, afraid of what he might do.

Your mom had spotted him, too. She shot you a fiery, warning glare. You mouthed, “I don’t know why he’s here,” but she didn’t understand what you were trying to say.

Chip decided to continue with his speech. “...she’s so selfless, she always puts others before herself.”

A loud scoff came from the back of the crowd, several people turning their heads to see who was protesting, shocked when they saw Rafe Cameron was here. Your mother’s face went red with anger.

Desperate to defuse the situation, Chip just continued, eyes darting helplessly between you and your mother, who’s stare was fixed on Rafe.

“...she’s also kind and generous.”

“Bullshit,” Rafe spat.

Tick, tick, tick…boom. Fourteen years of tension exploded all at once.

“Excuse me?” Your mother rose from her chair abruptly, and pushed her way through the crowd as she approached Rafe, who started stalking towards her as well, the two meeting in the middle of the crowd, staring daggers. You and Chip both rushed over to them.

“I said it’s fuckin’ bullshit, calling you generous when you can’t even take care of your own kid!” Rafe yelled in her face.

“What the hell would you know? You’re just an irresponsible waste of a trust fund!” She shouted back.

“And you’re a selfish bitch!” He bellowed.

You finally reached them, placing your hands on Rafe’s chest so he’d have to back away.

Your mother watched with poison in her stare, ruefully glaring at the sight of your hand on his chest.

“Ward was right,” she said quietly.

Both you and Rafe snapped your heads towards her at the shocking sound of Ward’s name coming from her lips.

“What did you just say?” Your hands left Rafe as you started walking towards her, Chip moving to stand between you and your mom.

“Hon, I think you and your boyfriend should just go,” he put his hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off and side-stepped him to get closer to her.

“No. What does that mean, ‘Ward was right?’ Tell me, now,” you raised your voice more the closer you got to her, her face completely impassive, unflinching as you yelled at her.

“Leave,” she said.

“What did you do, mom?” You questioned, desperate for understanding.

“What I had to,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as if it was the simplest explanation in the world. “What you couldn’t.”

“What does Ward have to do with that? What did he do?” Your voice shook with tears. Rafe looked around the party, all eyes were on you as you teetered near the verge of full meltdown. He hated the way everyone was looking at you, entertained by the drama of it all. He knew everyone on the island would hear about your meltdown within hours. He had to get you out of here before things got worse.

He walked up behind you as you continued in on your mom.

“What kind of mother are you? To let me suffer like that for two years?” Rafe placed his hand gently around your elbow, saying your name, trying to calm you. It has the opposite effect.

“No, no!” You turned on him. “You’re just as bad as her! I’m not leaving here until someone tells me the fucking truth for once!” You ripped your arm from him, stumbling backward and into the champagne table. A dozen glasses crashed to the ground dramatically, shattering loudly. The crowd watching gasped.

You didn’t even care about the mess you’d created, you wanted to keep going until you got the answers you needed, so tired of being in the dark, of your life being decided for you. You opened your mouth to yell at them some more, but when you saw Rafe’s eyes flash around you to the rest of the party, you realized for the first time just how many people were watching and your voice died in your throat.

“Are you done making a scene?” Your mother snarked from behind you.

“Yeah,” you nodded ruefully. “I’m so done.”

Done with her, done with this family, done with this whole fucked up island.

You stepped over the broken glass and pushed through the party-goers, hearing them murmur about you as you exit. You took off into a run as you exited the patio onto the beach, disappearing into the night.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

“I’m sorry ma’am, it appears your card has been declined.”

The fluorescent light in the motel lobby flickered, casting a shadow across your face as you nodded ruefully.

“You’re on your own,” your mother had warned you.

She must’ve canceled your credit card, and now you were alone, being turned away from a motel in the middle of The Cut. No money, no family, no home.

When the front desk agent tried to hand you back the card, you shook your head, “no, it’s okay, you can toss it.”

You turned and exited the motel, wrapping your arms around yourself in the chilly air. You stood in the parking lot for a moment, at a complete loss for what to do next. You pictured yourself spending the night on a park bench. This was officially rock bottom.

You started walking, not sure where you were going to go, but you stopped short when you saw a familiar black truck parked across the street. Rafe leaned against the car with his arms crossed, illuminated by the dim streetlight.

He lifted his chin, staring you down. Your shoulders fell as you shared a knowing look. You both knew you had no choice but to get in the truck.

(to be continued)

a/n: feels like this story kind of found a second life this past week and I'm so grateful! We're nearing the end, I think there will be 9 or 10 chapters and an epilogue. This story is going to be on hiatus for a bit, due to other projects and because I'm feeling lost and want to find the right ending and give it my full attenton. Thank you for sticking around it means the world to me!!! 😘 We will be back.

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wonderjanga · 2 months ago

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The Way Marvel Fights

He fights goofily I think. But here’s the thing. On one hand he’ll drop an anvil on you Looney Tunes style, but on the other, he can actually fight. Like actually. And the thing is he switches between goofy fighting and actual fighting mid battle, so you never know what you’re gonna get.

Like, he was fighting with the JL one day, because all of a sudden, aliens descend from whatever planet to take over the Earth, which is a pretty common occurrence by this point. Let me set the scene, Marvel conjured up some bowling pins and is smacking aliens upside the head with them, all the while juggling them like he was a circus act. He was even humming the circus tune. Then, out of nowhere, he just drops all the pins, runs up to an alien and punches it in the throat. Completely unmotivated too. This alien was doing the same thing as the other aliens. Nothing set it apart from the other ones. Then he went right back to the bowling pins like nothing happened. Like Clark didn’t just watch him render that alien the ability to never speak again.

Then, another time, he was hopping on a pogo stick he magicked up. He was using it in this strange way that allowed him to slam into Black Adam from different directions. Now, rightfully so, Teth was annoyed at the Champion for not taking the fight seriously. He was even more annoyed a “grown man” was using a children’s toy as if he himself were a child. He was about to tell the Champion to take the fight seriously when suddenly Marvel hopped close to him, then got off the pogo stick before grabbing the it, winding it back, and smacking the fuck out of Adam. The man felt his brain shake, and if you’re wondering how the pogo didn’t bend, it’s Billy actually made it out of his magic. Then, just like with the aliens, Marvel went right back to doing what he did before.

Then, there was this time he was fighting Captain Nazi. Marvel was throwing magicked up plates like ninja stars at the other man. It was a small an annoyance to the him, not enough to do major damage, but enough to leave small cuts. Then, Marvel ran out of plates and Captain Nazi blinked and sewer lid was just flying at him. Straight for his head by the way. He caught it, but wow, he felt that in his bones. His hand was shaking for the rest of the fight and he later found out that him catching it, mildly fractured a couple bones in his hand. And guess what? Just like the other two fights, he went back to what he was doing before. As if that definitely wouldn’t have most likely landed the Nazi in a coma if he had gotten hit by the thing.

#billy batson #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #black adam #teth adam

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reiderwriter · 11 months ago

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♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence.

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried.

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly.

“But I'm not a woman.”

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again.

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.”

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter.

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down.

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again.

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter.

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise.

“And your name is?”

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body.

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?”

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up.

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub.

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason.

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest.

“Good observation, Spencer.”

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head.

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor.

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again.

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him.

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that.

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours.

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election.

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace.

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.”

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you.

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together.

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet.

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway.

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him.

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin.

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him.

“Y/N�� I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-”

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?”

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape.

“I-I'm not a student, and-”

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.”

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist.

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex.

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you, desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you.

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper.

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him.

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley.

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?”

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him.

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.”

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin.

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched.

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him.

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust.

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin.

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock.

“Did it hurt?”

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.”

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving.

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for.

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to.

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him.

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure.

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.”

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier.

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you.

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there.

You weren't.

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?”

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today.

There was always tomorrow.

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed.

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder.

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there.

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up.

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.”

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words.

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs.

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?”

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely.

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened.

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs.

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head.

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch.

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out.

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug.

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.”

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer.

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.”

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him.

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.”

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal.

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake.

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.”

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts.

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?”

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be.

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?”

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there.

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?”

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct.

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer.

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again.

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning.

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?”

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.”

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest.

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled.

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.”

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again.

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his.

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.”

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?”

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans.

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.”

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit.

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut.

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly.

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.”

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him.

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue.

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?”

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them.

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth.

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.”

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry.

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again.

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock.

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock.

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so.

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time.

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair.

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.”

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n

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maskedbyghost · 3 months ago

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Stalker - part 2

https://www.tumblr.com/maskedbyghost/761077146667139072/stalker <- part 1

NSFW, MDNI

(simon is a bit possessive in this part too, a lot of you're mine exclamations lol, idk if I like this honestly)

"What are you doing here?" You asked, breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t seen him in months, not since the divorce papers were signed, and yet here he is, standing right at your doorstep. The man you once loved, the man you thought you’d never see again.

"Simon?" You managed to whisper, but when you saw a bouquet in his hands, from the same flower shop your stalker frequently visited, it all came to you. Simon was your stalker. Or something like that. You didn't know what to call him anymore.

He took a step closer, but you instinctively backed away, your hands shaking.

“You—” Your voice faltered, and you struggled to find the words. “You’ve been watching me?”

He stepped into the house—the house you once shared, now heavy with memories. "Please, love, let me explain." He closed the door gently behind him, leaning back against it with flowers still in his hands.

You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, your body stiff with tension. His presence felt suffocating, filling the small space between you, just like the memories of all the times you had waited for him to walk through that same door. But not like this. Never like this.

“Explain?” You scoffed, unable to hide the bitterness in your voice. “How can you explain this, Simon? How do you explain any of this?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he could say a word. “You ruined our marriage, Simon! You left me here, alone in this house. You didn’t fight for us! You didn’t fight for me.” Your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to stay steady.

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away, refusing to show weakness now. “And now, after you’ve already broken everything, you come back as my stalker?” You could barely breathe through the rage, your head spinning with disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?”

Simon stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, before he slowly set the flowers down on the table beside him. Then, he removed the mask from his face, revealing the features you once knew so well—the face you had caressed countless times in the past. Damn it. He was still as handsome as you remembered.

Not now, brain! Focus. His looks couldn’t save him this time, not after everything he had done. Not after all the damage he had caused.

He took a step toward you, but when you instinctively backed away, Simon froze. He let out a heavy sigh and stopped in his tracks. "Please let me explain, and then I promise I will leave you alone."

“You have five minutes,” you said, your voice firm, “and then I want you out.” You turned on your heel and walked toward the living room, Simon following closely behind.

Simon sat down across from you, his expression a mix of desperation and regret. He took a deep breath before he started talking. “I need you to understand something,” he began, his voice steady but strained. “When I left, I was on a dangerous mission, one that I couldn’t discuss with you. I was cut off from communication, and forced into secrecy. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to contact you; it was because I couldn’t.”

He paused, looking down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. “During that mission, someone discovered that I had you. They found out about us and used that information against me. They threatened me, they said that they would kill you, and I had no choice but to stay away. I thought if I kept my distance, they wouldn’t have any way to find your exact location. Instead, I sent a few people here to look after you, and eliminate any possible threat."

Your heart ached as you listened, but you remained silent, letting him continue.

Simon continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I had to deal with those men before I could even think about coming back.”

He swallowed hard, clearly pained. “When you sent the divorce papers, it felt like the final blow. I knew you deserved better—better than the life I was dragging you into. I signed the papers because I thought it was what you wanted. I thought you’d be safer without me.”

Simon’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “I should have fought harder, but I was afraid of making things worse for you. I thought you didn’t want to see me, so I stayed away, even when it was killin' me inside. I started keepin' an eye on you from a distance, trying to make sure you were okay.”

He leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know I’ve caused you so much pain. But I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen. I’m here now because I need to fix this, to make sure you’re safe and that you know the truth.”

The emotions poured inside you—betrayal, fear, love, and a desperate need to understand how everything had spiraled so out of control.

"Why now?" You asked, voice surprisingly calm. "Why didn't you show up earlier?"

“I got tired of dealing with the guys who tried to hit on you,” Simon said, his voice tinged with frustration.

You were left even more confused than before. You knew he could be jealous, but you hadn’t realized how far his possessiveness could reach. “I went on a date, you know?” you said, trying to prove some point at the moment, like he couldn't keep all of the suitors away.

“I know,” Simon growled, his voice tight with frustration. “Your friends were sneaky about setting you up with that fucker, I’ll give them that. I had to sit there for three hours, watching you smile at him, before I could do anythin'.”

"Should I even ask?"

"No." Simple as that. "Fuck, I know my wife is fuckin' perfect, but dealin' with all of them was more exhausting than I ever imagined.” I small smile appeared on his face, and you didn't know what to say. This was all messed up.

Simon slowly approached where you sat and lowered himself to his knees. He took your hands in his, pressing his lips to each knuckle. When his gaze settled on your ring finger, it was empty of course, you had removed the ring the moment he signed the divorce papers. He lingered there, his expression full of regret.

As Simon stared at your bare ring finger, the weight of his actions seemed to hit him all at once. His shoulders slumped, and he looked up at you with eyes full of sorrow.

“Seein' you without the ring,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s like a reminder of everythin' I’ve lost. I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you until now.”

Simon's grip on your hands tightened, his fingers gently tracing the veins on your wrists. “I'm beggin' you, love,” he pleaded, his eyes searching your face. “Please give me another chance. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

"Simon....I don't know."

"You're mine," he hissed, "You belong to me."

His grip tightened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressed against yours. "And I'm not lettin' go of what belongs to me," he growled in your ear.

Simon could see the mixture of emotions playing out on your face. His grip on your arms loosened, but his eyes remained intense, staring deeply into yours.

"I know I've hurt you," he continued when you didn't say anything, his voice a mixture of frustration and pleading. "I know I've made a mess of things. But I've never stopped loving you, not for a single moment."

“Simon, I understand that you’re trying to explain yourself, and I can see that you’re hurting, but your actions have caused a lot of pain, I don't know if I can trust you anymore." You said as the tears filled your eyes.

"I know," he said, his voice wavering. "And I don't expect you to trust me right away. I hurt you, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance."

He gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, his touch soft and tender. "Please, love," his own eyes welling up, "just give me a chance to prove it to you."

You sighed as Simon moved closer, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. When you didn’t pull away, he continued with gentle kisses down your neck, each kiss light. His lips traveled slowly up to your own, pausing just before they made contact. He lingered there, his breath mingling with yours, as he gazed intently into your eyes, his lips hovering near yours as if waiting for permission.

Your breath hitched as he paused, his lips hovering a hair's breadth away from yours. His eyes were filled with a mix of tenderness and raw desire. He waited for a moment, the anticipation hanging in the air. Then, finally, he closed the distance, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was equal parts gentle and desperate.

But the kiss lasted for a moment only, he pulled back, and leaned his forehead on yours, before whispering "You are mine."

You trembled slightly as he tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling gently in that familiar way he used to do. With his lips brushing against yours, he whispered, “No matter what, you will always be my girl, fucking mine. No one can take you away from me, and I'll grovel at your feet for eternity if it means you’d forgive me.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers in your hair, his breath on your lips, and his words leaving you overwhelmed.

"Simon..." you breathed, feeling the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "It's not that simple. You hurt me. You broke my trust."

His grip tightened in your hair, pulling your head back slightly, and his lips pressed against the exposed flesh of your throat. He nipped at your skin, his breath hot on your skin.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as he nuzzled against your neck. “I can’t undo what I’ve done or make up for the pain I caused, but I want you to know that I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to rebuild your trust. I’m willing to wait, to earn your forgiveness, and to prove that I’ve changed. Just please, don’t shut me out completely. I need a chance to make things right.”

Your heart ached at his words, the pain and the love battling within you. The familiar feeling of his body pressed against yours added another layer of confusion to your conflicting emotions.

You reached up and gently ran a hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. A shiver ran down your spine as his breath tickled your skin, a small part of you surrendering to this need for him.

The feel of your hand in his hair and your body close to his sent a shot of desire through his body. He groaned deeply, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you even closer, his body molding to yours.

His lips moved up your neck, his tongue tracing a fiery path up to your ear. "I need you," he whispered, voice thick with need. "I need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you're still mine."

"You know where the bedroom is."

Simon smiled as he got up with you in his arms, he wasted no time in carrying you to the bedroom, his strong arms holding you effortlessly. The air in the room was thick with a complex mix of emotions. On one side, there was the unresolved tension of past hurt and betrayal. On the other, there was a delicate, hopeful sense that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to reconnect and rebuild what you once had together.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost x you

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sansaorgana · 6 months ago

Note

Hello, I have a request for Benny Cross:

Benny had a bad habit of telling reader that he would just leave so that she didn’t have to worry about him anymore, and at some point she distances herself because she thinks he’s really going to leave some day and it will hurt less if she starts getting used to his absence. Benny’s not having it though and he realizes that it stresses her every time he says that so he reassures her. Please & thank you 🙏🏼💗

hello! thank you for your request 💐 honestly, he's manipulating emotionally so much when he's like that lol 🙄 but we love him anyway, right? 😉

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

“I should just go,” Benny would always say when you mentioned how worried you were about him riding the motorbike and getting involved in all kinds of trouble – whether with the gang or on his own. “You won’t have to take care of me, won’t have to worry about me then.”

When he said that for the first time, you were assuring him that it was not what you wanted – holding onto him, caressing his head as you pressed his face between your breasts like a mother would to her son.

But a few times later, you realised that it was an emotional manipulation on his side. It was his way of shutting you up and making you feel guilty for being worried about the things you had every right to be worried about. You loved him – and yes, you knew what he was like when you chose to be his girl and you didn’t want to tame him but… You were worried. Because you loved him and didn’t want to see him in jail or hurt. Was it that difficult to understand?

And now it happened again – he had gotten himself into a fight, half of his face bruised and fresh cuts on his forehead and a cheek. Benny was sitting on the edge of the bed and you were next to him, patching him up. Clearing the wounds carefully with pursed lips, trying not to say anything that would anger him further because he was still pretty riled up.

“What?” He asked eventually after one of your sighs.

“You know what,” you pointed out and went back to taking care of him.

“That guy deserved it, I won and I’m fine. What’s your problem again?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine?” You snorted at him and pointed at the mirror. “Look at your face, Benny. You’re not fucking fine,” you gritted your teeth. “Or perhaps you’ve taken a few too many hits and you’ve got brain damage now, talking nonsense. Wouldn’t surprise me,” you added angrily.

“Alright, enough,” he mumbled and shoved your hands away as he reached to the nightstand for a cigarette. He lit it and gave you the look you had known already very well. “I should just leave,” he told you. “You won’t have to worry and get angry anymore when I go.”

Perhaps you should have been used to this now but perhaps it was that one time too many. You had no answer to this, no willpower to argue. Maybe he was thinking of leaving you and that was why he kept repeating it all the time? Maybe your constant worrying was too much for him? Maybe he wanted a woman who would only care about getting fucked and taking rides and that was it? Maybe he didn’t treat this relationship as seriously as you did?

Fighting all these thoughts in your head, you just took the bowl of cold water filled with bloody cotton pads and you left him alone in the bedroom. You went downstairs to clean the mess up and to curl up on the couch in front of TV.

After half an hour you heard his light snoring coming out of the bedroom and you decided to go to sleep, too. You felt extremely numb inside, though. It was difficult to fall asleep – laying next to a man you loved so much but everything seemed to be so complicated. Sometimes love was not enough. And love itself was never complicated – but people sometimes were. Benny certainly was. And maybe it would be for the best to let him go, to let him leave, as he was always saying.

He was a man of the road, after all. He valued freedom more than anything else. Of course he would leave one day. What even had you been thinking? That he’d stay forever with you? That he wouldn’t drive away one day?

As you imagined it happening, your heart squeezed inside your chest. You realised how much it would hurt when he leaves. You had to start preparing yourself already, you decided. So it would hurt less. So it wouldn’t kill you.

You had to distance yourself from him.

At first Benny didn’t notice your odd behaviour. Well, he did. But at first it wasn’t so odd. It was nothing new that you were moody and offended at something so he just let it pass as usual. But on the third day of a house not being filled with your talking and your laughter, on the third day of you giving him a cold shoulder in bed… He started to contemplate what could be the reason behind it.

And during the picnic, you were spending time with everybody around except for him. The message was pretty clear. Even some of his friends pointed it out. Something was not right about the way you behaved around him.

You were drinking with Betty by the fire and giggling with her about something. Benny was watching you from afar, smoking a cigarette and gritting his teeth. He missed that laughter, that giggle, your smile, the sparkle in your eye. He missed your soft hands caressing him whenever you could – playing with the rings on his fingers, tracing the outlines of his tattoos. He missed your lips kissing the top of his nose and his eyelids after telling him goodnight and he missed having you underneath him and covering your whole face with tiny little kisses as he was tickling your sides.

He threw the cigarette away to step on it and fixed his leather jacket before approaching you nonchalantly as he usually would. You didn’t even look up at him but Betty did as she stopped talking to you as if you had been discussing some secrets together.

“Benny?” She asked.

“I gotta speak to my girl,” Benny explained and the intensity of his gaze made you finally look up.

You gave Betty an annoyed look but you nodded your head and Johnny’s wife left you alone with your boyfriend. You chewed on the inside of your cheek before taking a sip of your beverage.

“What is it?” You asked with a sigh.

“Should be me askin’, don’t you think?” Benny stood next to you with his hands inside of his pockets, trying to look at your face but it was difficult since you were determined to avoid his gaze. “What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up,” you chuckled at his question sarcastically.

“You’re actin’ up ever since…”

“Ever since you told me you were gonna leave,” you snapped suddenly as you finally laid your eyes on him. “So yeah, what are you even still doing here?” You added and tried to walk away but Benny grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his chest despite your protests.

“Is that what it’s all about, huh?” He raised his eyebrows but his dismissive tone was not helping at all.

“You’re seriously surprised, Benny? How many more times can I handle listening to that, hm? What do you think? That you talking shit like that won’t mess with my head? That it won’t have any effect on me, huh? Please!” You managed to free your wrist from his grasp. He kept staring at you with widened eyes as he was blinking slowly and analysing your every word and expression. “You wanna leave? You wanna go? Sure, go on. But I’m trying to distance myself before it happens, so…” Your voice trembled as a lump formed in your throat. “So it won’t kill me when you do,” you finished in a broken whisper while tears pricked your eyes.

After a short moment, you walked away quickly. You didn’t want to start crying and make a scene in front of everybody. And you didn’t want to start crying in front of Benny either – to let him know how much you cared about him when he was constantly talking about leaving? That felt humiliating.

So, you went inside the house and to the kitchen where you put the bottle down next to dozens of other empty bottles. Grabbing the edges of the sink, you tried to catch your breath back and calm yourself down.

When you heard the footsteps behind you, you straightened your back and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You turned around and saw Benny, leaning on the wall on the other side of the kitchen.

“I’m not plannin’ to leave any time soon,” Benny muttered nervously.

“Any time soon?” You shook your head. “Wow.”

“I mean…” He sighed and approached you. “You know, I might hit the road one day, leave forever. You know I hate being tied to one place,” he explained. “But I’m gonna take my doll with me. What gave you an idea I wouldn’t?” He lifted your chin up.

“What gave me an idea, Benny?! You did!” You pointed out with widened eyes.

“Aw, kitty, I’m just sayin’ stuff like that so you stop lecturing me, haven’t you realised that already?” Benny leaned in to cup your face and rub your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Shush, don’t you cry…”

“Benny, I…” You caught your breath and raised your hands to cup his face, too. You missed the feeling of his beard under your soft fingertips. You scratched him the way he liked it and cracked a smile at him. The very first in a few days. “Benny, I’m worried. And I will always be. Always, you hear me? Because I love you. You can’t expect me not to… You just can’t. And doing that by telling me you’re gonna leave is the worst way of doing so. It’s killing me each time. It’s awful,” you confessed and looked down. “You can’t make me feel guilty for the fact I worry about you. I am the only one who does.”

It was true. His friends from the gang adored him but they didn’t care much about his health or troubles with the law. In fact – they encouraged Benny’s getting into fights or getting arrested. They liked him for the fact that he was wild and difficult to tame. They cheered on when he had a new bruise or a new case in the courthouse. You didn’t.

“I’ve never had anyone worrying about me, dollie,” Benny confessed softly. “I’m not used to that.”

“I’m not doing that to annoy you. I worry because I love you,” you looked up again and bit on your lower lip.

“I know. Because I worry about you, too,” he rubbed his nose with yours after leaning in even closer. “I worry about you all the time. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“So why can’t you understand that what I feel towards you is just the same? That I’m not doing it to annoy you?” You asked.

“It’s just hard to believe, I guess,” Benny shrugged his arms. “That a doll like you can love a guy like me so much.”

“Oh, Benny…” Now you didn’t know what to say as your heart broke in half.

“And when you’re angry at me when I get hurt… I feel like a burden,” he added.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “I just feel so helpless sometimes and I get angry… Because I don’t know how to make you finally understand that I want you to stop getting in trouble,” you sniffled your tears back and Benny wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you close into a tight embrace.

“Trouble is my middle name, kitty. But I’m already tryin’ my best not to mess around too much since I have you,” he promised and kissed the top of his head. “You know, before I met you, I used to think I would die young. But I don’t want that to happen anymore, yeah. I wanna grow old with you, baby.”

His words were like honey being poured onto your heart. You squeezed him tight and pressed your ear to his chest where his heart was.

“I love you, Benny.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Don’t give me silent treatment anymore, I can’t handle that.”

“I won’t,” you giggled, with your face still pressed to his chest.

“Good.”

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #*benny #lilysfiction

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bitchimasnake-sss · 6 months ago

Text

🧸teachin' some lessons ft. yuuji itadori!

set-up: your best friend's pink-haired, younger brother seems to have some trouble with his girlfriends. maybe you can help him out, one lesson at a time? warning: inexperienced!yuuji x experienced!reader; nsfw themes include oral (both male and female receiving), slight voyeurism, sukuna ffs. mdni!! wc: 4.6k (oof my longest fic, and its about one of my fav men of all time ugh) ⁎ porn with plot ⁎

"hey yuujiii~" you called out sweetly, walking in through the main door. the familiar scent of the itadori household sneaked up on you as sukuna closed the door behind you. the keys jingled softly as the older itadori brother followed after you, his pace slow and languid.

the messy living room met your gaze with yuuji sitting on the couch, headphones on. in his hand was a controller, and he seemed to mutter angrily under his breath as he played the game. "fuck— come on, come on. hit harder. fuuck-"

the pink-haired was clearly unaware of your presence till you plopped down next to him on the couch. the furniture dipped under your weight and his eyes widened. the young quarterback moved quick – the game paused under his thumb, his deft fingers yanked out the headphones hastily – and he sat up straighter, taking in your sudden presence, "yn?"

"hey!" you beamed at him.

"hey?" he smiled back, confusion etched onto every crevice of his face. And you could see the puffy eyebags and residuals of sleep on his facehe briefly looked up at sukuna, who was standing behind you on the couch, “what’s going on?”

but sukuna was a man of few words. so, instead, the older delinquent wasted no time in walking to the tv and unplugging it, hence, turning off whatever game was playing on the screen, “time for a little heart to heart, brat.”

"you fucking asshole–" yuuji glared at his brother, cussing him in a single breath, "i was still fucking playing."

"tch, play later. she wanted to talk to you."

when yuuji cocked up an eyebrow and glared harder at sukuna, unfazed, you laughed. and that brought the jock's attention back to you, "well i– anyways. what's up?"

"well–” you dragged out the syllable to soften the awkward blow, “'kuna said something about your break-up and that you were being all sulky sulky–"

"ughh why?" yuuji cut you off with a pained groan. a silent blush crept up to his face in embarrassment and he looked away.

seeing his reaction, you put your hands up in mock surrender, "your brother is an ass, i know i know. but we are here for you, you know that right? you can talk to us."

"i-" yuuji's voice faltered and he looked away from you to glare at his brother again, "do– fuck you, by the way– do you have brain damage, sukuna?"

"nuh uh."

"fuck you mean nuh uh."

"don't make me wanna smack you." sukuna answered back just as smoothly, "now talk."

yuuji managed one last groan past his pretty lips before succumbing to the situation. he chose to look at you, avoiding his older brother's scorching gaze, "yeah, i did– get broken up with I mean. uhm, yuko... she broke up with me."

"yuu, really?" you asked dumbfounded, "I thought everything was going well? did she, like, give you a reason why?"

"no. I mean, I dunno really? there's never a fucking reason. everything always seems to go so well. then, all of a sudden they're breaking up with me." his voice quitened down, "maybe it's my fault? I don’t really know at this point."

"yuu, no. don't think shit like this." you gave sukuna a quick glance, your mouth running dry as you looked back at yuuji, "im sorry if im overstepping my boundaries but like... how's your sex life?"

yuuji almost choked on air, "wh-what?! i'm not talking about that with him around!"

"i'll leave if you'd like to actually have a heart to heart, brat." sukuna argued back, "not like i wanna hear about your tiny dick issues."

and with that the tatted, older boy disappeared down the hallway and into his own room.

"hey…" you offered once the silence had grown thick between the two of you, "if you want, i can help you out? give you a few tips maybe? like, you know you can discuss your relationship troubles with me?"

but the quarterback went blank.

and when he didn't react, you quickly continued, panicked – because this is yuuji, your best friend’s younger brother. "i mean you can come over my apartment tomorrow night? we can discuss whatever's been bothering you. it'll be easier without 'kuna sulking around."

"right." he finally breathed out. then offering you a small smile, he nodded his head, "sure, tomorrow night."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

your house was eerily quiet.

your housemates were out doing god knows what on a friday night. and technically, you should be out with them, drinking and leaving smudged lipstick against some drunk man's neck. but here you were, sitting next to the boy a year younger than you, sipping on your third can of beer (because god knows you needed liquid courage to make this conversation work.)

"well, i don't want to make this more awkward than it already is for you, yuuji." you took a sip out of your can, "so, let's just get into it, right?"

you tried to steel your nerves. this was yuuji. this was the boy that had asked you to marry him at the age of seven, who asked you with a pipsqueak voice if you could be his first kiss when he was thirteen cause “everyone’s teasin me for not having a kiss yet, please?”. this was the boy who had sobbed on your shoulder when he went through his first heartbreak.

and, now this was the boy man sitting on your couch, sipping on his own can of beer with a uncertain, unnamed resolve in his eyes. he nodded, hiding his gaze under the pretense of examining the brand of the beer he was drinking.

"so, you said you were doing everything right, right? what are you even doing with them?"

he froze, "i mean, the- the usual? dates, cuddles, movie nights and all?"

"awh well that's sweet, isn’t it?" you smiled, reminiscing about the time when a guy put that effort into any of your relationships.

he nodded awkwardly and you continued, finding courage as the alcohol poured into your bloodstream, "then maybe it's something else? "

"my sex life's okay…?" his mouth seemed to have gone dry and he swallowed wantonly, "i mean i think? i haven't really gone beyond second base with a girl yet."

"what?" you mindlessly scooted closer to him, putting your hand on his bicep and staring him down. "but didn't you date the girl before this one for a good five months? what was her name– uh, kugisaki's friend, right?"

"i mean yeah—"

"—yuuji?! have you just been ignoring your girlfriends? five months is a long time."

"what?!" his face went hot, the blood rushing to his ear-tips and nose, "it is not! I- I mean I just dont wanna look like a pervert by coming onto them, you know?"

"by making them wait five months? you're insane."

before yuuji could defend himself, you were getting ready to cut him off again. you leaned in till you could count the acne scars on his left cheek, and that tiny cut under his eyes where sukuna accidentally hit him. and now, you were suddenly hyper-aware of his gaze on your lips and his breath on your cheek. you pulled back slowly with a shuddering sigh.

this was yuuji.

the alcohol was raging in your system. clearly.

you sighed, choosing to look away from his face. pulling yourself back fully, you ran your hands through a wayward strand of hair, "look you're clearly a good looking dude, yuuji.” you didn’t ignore the way his jaw grew tense under your compliment, eyes boring into yours, “I mean, you are well-built and you're nice. you’re the goddamn quarterback. half the girls probably wanna get with you cause they wanna get fucked by the quarterback."

"really?” his gaze faltered and for a second, he was the thirteen year old asking for his first kiss, “but i- i don't know how to do… that."

"do what?"

he chewed on the inside of his cheek, "fuck someone i guess?"

he took another sip and you didn't ignore the way his tongue peaked out to lap off a drop that lingered on his bottom lip. dragging your eyes upwards to meet his, you found him staring at you, the resolve in his eyes hardening. silently, he put down his can of beer on the coffee table.

you tensed, sensing something wrong in the anticipatory silence, "what?"

but before you could press further questions, he was scooting closer towards you. his deft fingers plucked the can out of your grip and kept it on the coffee table next to his own. meeting your heated gaze, he softly, uncertainly brushed the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. he paused, “you want this?”

your eyes dropped down to his slightly chapped lips as you leaned into his touches, “maybe...?”

he let out a trembling sigh, the heat on your face erupting goosebumps across your body. but he pulled back quick, changing his mind, "you're drunk."

your fingers found purchase on his chest, and you pushed him backwards till his back was flush against your couch. daringly, you straddled him and the plush fat of your thighs felt wildfire warm against his clothes. your eyes pleaded against his, trying to find an excuse to do the wrong thing. you found yourself whispering, "not that drunk."

you shift above him. letting your hips rock gently against his thighs, you whispered again, "what are you scared of, yuuji?”

his pupils dilated, hair tousled and tongue got stuck to the rooftop of his mouth as you hovered over him. when he spoke, it felt like he was holding back a groan, “we shouldn’t – sukuna, he’d kill me if he found out.”

“we aren’t doing anything wrong. I think i can teach you a thing or two, yuuji." flashing him a quick smile, leaning downwards to tease him, "a few lessons, you know? you want it?"

he paused, growing sure of his words, “when do we start?”

🧸 lesson 01: please the lady

you were sprawled out on your sofa, hair a tangled mess. your fingers tugged his hair, moving him up and down like a personal fucktoy till you could no longer hold in breathless moans.

yuuji itadori met your eyes as his tongue flicked against your clit, too good for it to be a first time. then parting from your dripped core, he pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh. eyes never leaving yours. his pupils were blown out, face flushed and hair sweaty. when he spoke, his voice seemed too thick for his body, "am i doing okay?"

you nodded, running your fingers through his scalp as he resumed the cruel pace of his wicked tongue against you, “you– you sure this is your first ah fuck- first time?”

“that good?” he just smiled against your heat, the throbbing of your clit in wicked sync with his ragged breath, as if he was gonna cum just from eating you out.

"yuuji~" his name came easy to you. it was a name you had moaned on some nights where your depraved fantasies caught up with you under those silken sheets.

you didn't dream of fucking your best friend's brother! that's gross! no, ofcourse not... it's just that one day the growth spurt hit and suddenly, yuuji was no longer a tiny blimp with a huge smile next to you. no longer the boy with a sweet, innocent crush on you. now, he towered over you, hair falling across his forehead and sweat dripping down his jaw as he saw you after practice back at his home sometimes.

but you didn't wanna fuck him. obviously not.

your voice betrayed you. the syllables strung in moans and gasps left your lips as you keened hungrily into his face, "fuck, you're so good at this already, god- ah fuc-"

he hummed against you, basking in the praise, and the soft vibrations ran up your spine.

you knew this was wrong.

he was sukuna's younger brother and 'kuna will eat you alive if he ever found out that you had offered his brother to play with your cunt as if it was a toy.

but it felt so right.

the way his sturdy fingers dug into the plush of your thighs, the way his tongue felt against your clit. slowly, as he went lower, you could feel his nose bump against the bundle of nerves and his tongue push into your drenching core. you squirmed as you forced his face closer to yourself, grinding your hips against his face to allow him to fuck you faster, “fast- nghh faster, please please- aaugh oh my god yuuUji-”

and yuuji obliged, letting you use him and his pretty mouth to get off.

it felt – no – it was right.

"mmph ohmygod–" your thighs tried to close around his pretty face as your back arched, trapping him against your pussy. the knot in your stomach tightening until the waves crashed violently in front of your eyes and came on his face.

yuuji moaned, a starving man and you were both his heaven and hell from the way you kept him trapped against your gushing cunt.

🧸lesson 02: returning favours

you pushed the jock on the same couch against which you were ravaged. finding yourself straddling his broad figure with ease as you took your top off.

yuuji’s eyes flicked from you pretty face to your heaving chest to your inner thighs – still wet from his administrations. dripping down slowly, almost ruining his pants. your thumb swiped across his wet bottom lip before your lips crashed against his.

he tasted of beer and you and sin.

“ah fuck–“ he hiccupped as you found your teeth against his pulse, your teeth violent and lips soothing. his hip jut upwards, the hard-on begging some attention, some friction, anything.

a laugh escaped you, you mumbled into his bruised jaw and neck, “easy now, yuuji.” your experienced fingers softly dragging over his erection – and feeling the wet fabric underneath – and he bucked into your touches desperately. flashing him a pretty smile, “let me take care of you, yeah?”

your predatory eyes set him ablaze as you backtracked and got down on your knees. your manicured fingers undid the button of his jeans, his hips eagerly jumping upwards to let you tug his jeans downwards and freeing him from his misery.

with a final tug, his cock sprung free. his tanned, slightly curved length nestled comfortably against his stomach. his tip was weeping, drenching his abs in a translucent white. you batted your eyes up at the boy, taking in his flustered expression, “don’t forget to breath.”

“you– you don’t have to do this.” but his eyes betrayed him, showing such utter devotion and desperation towards the woman in front of him.

“i wanna, yuu.”

his body tensed up at the use of the nickname in such a lewd situation. how dare you let the same childhood nickname fall from those pretty lips and then use those same lips to kiss his dick? honestly, how dare you.

yuuji closed his eyes, his jaw slacking and pelvis jumping up at the innocent featherlike kisses that you placed on him. his mouth grew dry and without much cognitive thought, he pushed your head down on his cock.

you made a depraved noise as he pushed the tip past your lips, forcing his length into your mouth with unabashed bravery. he opened his eyes but his breath picked up at the sight of you. eyes welling up from the sudden intrusion, spit down his length and on your pretty face. spurred on by the sight, he pushed your face downwards, relishing in your strangled moans.

“yuu-“ you moaned around his cock. and there it was again, that fucking nickname.

he groaned, throwing his head back, “fuck, don’t call me that or I’ll cum in a second, pl-please.”

his grip loosened, letting you move your head up and down at your pace. you pulled yourself upwards, sucking on his tip as your hand roamed his entire length.

“fucc-“ his words and hips stuttered in a wicked symphony, “shi– shit yeah, please keep going.”

your phone rung.

you expected the jock to beg you to ignore it, but once he heard the ringtone, he picked up your phone in his shaky hands. turning the screen to show you the name of the caller, he whispered, "sh-should i, like... pick it up?"

still sucking on yuuji’s dick, you saw ‘kuna💀’ flash up on the screen. shit. you let go of the tip with a pop, looking at yuuji with wide eyes. but before you could ask him to cut the call, the jock accepted it.

he put the grumbling man on the other side on speaker as your hands still worked on the younger brother.

"took you long enough to answer." sukuna huffed, "open the door, i'm outside."

your voice pitched up, eyes widened, but hands still moved up and down with ease, "whaT? you are? why??"

"i thought you'd wanna hang out since your roommates are gone?" he paused, "you sound like you’re busy. you’re busy?"

almost as if on cue, yuuji let out a broken gasp; his teeth caught his bottom lip, head thrown back as he tried to contain in the sinful noises.

"what was that?" sukuna asked, and yuuji pressed his broad fingers to his mouth, trying to hold off any and all sounds.

"mhm, nothing." you nodded no frantically as if sukuna could see you. all the meanwhile, his younger brother's brought his hands to your tits, softly tugging on your nipple. yuuji, that fucking brat. you restrained the choked moans and continued, "i'm no-t well, that's all, 'kuna."

"really? you were okay last night."

"yeah yeah, you... you should go back home, really." you squirmed at the jock’s expressions. he was now biting down on his fist, trying to hold in the wayward groans and moans. the sight spurred you on to move your hands faster, pressing chaste, wet kisses every once in a while.

testing both of your and yuuji’s limits over this phone-call.

"if you're sick, then you should let me in. i'll make you soup or something." sukuna sighed, "don't worry, i am not going all sappy on you, brat. i don't have anything else to do right now, anyways. you wouldn't believe, you know satoru?? that oldie, he went back to his ex su–"

"hm? really?" you answered half-lidded as yuuji’s abs tensed, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy and he bit down on his fist harder. a second later, thick white spurted all over your hands. the liquid drenched your hands and his abs, glistening under the overhead lighting.

“–do you want takeout right now?"

you broke out of your daze, suddenly realizing that your best friend was at the door as his younger brother lay spent in front of you. finally, you mumbled, "okay i'll open the door in a second, kuna. wait."

"yeah, i'm waiting."

"yuu?" you cut the call and looked up at the man. from the dazed look on his face, you were sure he hadn't paid any attention to your conversation with the man on the phone.

he looked down at you in mock anticipation and you raised an eyebrow, "did you tell sukuna where you were going?"

"fushiguro's. to play video games." he mumbled before tugging you upwards to kiss you.

you put a hand on his chest to halt his motion, and he whined. you brought a soft hand to his cheek, "great, so, uhm. your brother's outside and you're not supposed to be in here."

yuuji looked like he just heard his own death sentence.

he finally mumbled, "i'm sorry what!?"

"you were too busy getting a hand-job to listen—"

"—huh?!"

"—its okay, its okay, yuu." you stood up, and yuuji followed your actions, standing alongside you. you placed a quick kiss on his cheek before giving him a pleading look, "just go hide in the bathroom yeah? i'll ask kuna to go in a few minutes."

"what??" he looked genuinely surprised but obliged nonetheless. nodding mindlessly, yuuji pulled his jeans upwards and slipped into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

cleaning your hand, and putting your clothes on at lightning speed, you tried to smooth your hair out as you walked over to the door. opening the door, you found the tatted man peering down at his phone and scrolling away.

he looked up at you with confusion, "you look like you got railed."

oops.

🧸lesson 03: playin' it unfair

without commenting any further on the state of your hair or clothes, the older itadori had moved past you and sat down on the couch. the very couch where his younger brother had laid you down and gone to town in.

locking the door incase your roommates walked in early from their night out, you had turned around to look at your best friend. trying to hide the slight slur in your voice, you had nagged him, "you saw my face, now leave."

ignoring you, he continued scrolling his phone. then once he had done whatever inspection he had to, he had asked you without even glancing up, "so should i order chinese or what? in the mood to go to an in n' out?"

"didn't i just tell you that i was sick?"

"you are so bad at lying, dude."

"im not lying!"

and the ever-observant sukuna had nodded towards the two opened cans of beer on the coffee table. one of them had your lipgloss smothered over it while the other had been on his younger brother's lips. well, fuck. how did you forget to hide that?

you probably weren't aware of your kiss-bitten lips, of the trailing purple bruises that were laid bare against your jaw and neck, and the ones that trailed even under your loose shirt. you probably didn't know just how damp your hair looked and how your eyes darted from him to the rest of the apartment in a guilty dance.

"who was here?" he had finally asked. his voice was barely curious, just a normal question, "did he do something stupid?"

sukuna never bothered to lecture you about who you decided to bring back home or not, neither did you question the women he slept with. but if he found out who was here this time, it might end badly for all of you.

he wouldn't know yuuji was here, would he?

you had gulped wantonly, "what? no." you continued with a light laugh, "nobody was here, 'kuna. trust me. just some guy, total idiot." you had paused, trying to improv your way out of the situation, "he left a while before you called."

but for someone who was so scared of sukuna finding out, how did you end up back in the bathroom? letting yuuji fuck you on his finger as his brother waited in the living room outside?

"yuu, don't." you whispered as you sunk deeper into door behind you, your back flush against the hard door as yuuji caged you in.

"you said he'd be gone in five minutes, it's been atleast fifteen." he nipped along your jaw, slowly licking over the blossoming bruises he had left. he picked his head up, eyes pointing at you with ungodly desperation, "send him back, please."

his words were accompanied with slow circles on your clothed pussy, teasing you as he whined against your soft skin. his head dipped upwards, carefully brushing against your neck and cheek. hot breath tickling you as his hand carefully guided you to his hard-on.

a teasing laugh escaped you, "didn't i just make you cum?"

he smiled, but his voice was breathless, "should i apologize? i don't think so—" his voice died in his throat, hands going faster to get you just as riled up as he was.

"yuu, come on. kuna's outside." you muttered, but your fingers betrayed your words, palming him leisurely through his pants. running your hand up and down, you restrained any moans within when his teeth sunk down on your exposed neck. he kissed the bruise, "but you can't cut the lessons short."

"yuu—"

"—fu-fuck, jus' like that." yuuji ignored you, bucking his hips to get more friction out of your skimming touches. his pace fastened against you to match your relentless teasing. the quarterback leaned into your touches, teasing you faster and faster and faster and messier, so so messily, through the now-wet pair of shorts. as if his brother wasn't sitting outside, waiting for you to come back.

but the idea of getting caught only turned you both on further, the adrenaline acting like a cheap aphrodisiac as you both tried to grab any and every part of each other.

using his right hand, he grabbed ahold of your face and drew it closer to his. then, he kissed you. he kissed you as if you were the high his body was so desperately chasing. his hand slipped inside your shorts and started toying with your cunt, smiling against your lips when you closed your eyes and let him have his way.

"yuu—" you gasped, still sensitive, "don-don't do that"

he kissed you again, swallowing any objections and that wretched nickname down his throat with ease.

the door rattled as sukuna banged on it, "oi!"

both you and the jock you were tangled against stopped. breath caught in your throats, wide-eyed and looking at each other in horror. stabilizing your breath, you gathered courage and yelled back, "what is it, kuna?"

"you've been in there for way too long, everything okay?" he continued, "the food's here. and it's getting colder."

you casted a quick glance at yuuji, who seemed to have pursed his lips together so as to not even breathe.

"yeah, yeah everything's okay. i just, uh thought i got my period. but false alarm!" you chirped, sounding uncharacteristically enthusiastic about your monthly disaster, "just coming back."

"you're sure it's nothing else?" sukuna asked, and you could picture the suspicion on his tatted face.

"yeah yeah. aah—" you bit down your lip when yuuji decided it was a great time to thumb your clit. probably being a needy brat. you pursed your lips, before choking out a hasty, "—jus' go wait outside! give me some privacy, asshole."

"damn, okay. watch me eat all the food by the time you're out, brat."

"kunnaa" you groaned when yuuji went faster against you, "jus' go sit, i'll be out in a minute, okay?"

"fine." he grumbled before walking off.

you were about to whisper-shout at yuuji but he kissed you again, keeping the pressure of his fingers against your oversensitive clit constant. your knees wobbled, deciding to give out as the waves of orgasm threatened to wash over you. your thighs shook, head lolling back to rest on the wooden door.

"just a little more," yuuji egged you on, "come on, just a little bit more. gimme it, gimme please."

"fu- ngh no—" you bit on his lip to keep yourself quiet as the tides of orgasm washed over you and your knees gave out.

if he was in pain from your attack, he didn't show it. instead choosing to support your spent figure.

you both slumped against the door, sliding down as the pink-haired enveloped you into a hug. you breathed hard, resting your forehead against his chest. when you finally looked up at him, he gave you a smile, "too much?"

"you're an asshole." you whispered back. your fingers swiftly traced over his bottom lips, finding a little swollen bump where you had bit him.

"doesn't hurt." he reassured you, "barely felt like a pinch."

"i'm gonna go take sukuna into my room." you cleared, brushing the wet strands from his forehead, "you use the time to sneak out, okay?"

the quarterback pouted. what a child. "the lesson's over so quick?"

your fingers rested on his jawline, pulling his pouty face forward to lay down a chaste kiss. you give him a teasing smile, "i think i'll fry your brain if i taught you everything in one go, yuu."

"that so?"

"mhm."

the jock gave you a devious smile, "you're gonna make me wait?"

"teach you some patience while i'm at it, you know? patience is sooo import—"

"—I ATE YOUR FOOD, FYI. ITS GONE, DON'T COME CRYING TO ME LATER, BRAT." sukuna's voice boomed from the living room.

"fuck."

a/n: guess which motherfucker is posting while still being on a "writing hiatus" (this is a scheduled post lmao). haha, hello, hi. should i post a second part because a few lessons are yet to be learnt? ofc. ofc i should. will i? thats between me and god. (jk, i'll write it if someone wants to read it lol) let me know incase you wanna be tagged in part 02! is here!! divider: by @plutism tagging: @kingofthe-egirls because you love yuuji just as much as i do <3

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuji itadori #yuuji smut #yuji smut #yuji itadori #jjk x reader smut #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu yuuji

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

body piercer!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, modern au, no outbreak au

word count: 4.7k

summary: you finally go and get your nipples pierced.

warnings: reader has tattoos & has flat/small nipples which is the only physical description in this fic, nipple play, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, joel miller with a tongue piercing, lots of teasing, sexual tension, tattoo kink??? joel is really into them

a/n: this fic literally wouldn't exist if not for @swiftispunk's fic flesh and metal after reading it and screaming about it (and also reading articles about it) this fic was born, enjoy xx

special thanks to @johnwatsn for the beta! 💞

It’s late. The faint buzz of the neon sign is loud in your ears, taunting, mocking you for just staring inside instead of going in. Your face is illuminated with a red hue, the words BODY PIERCING burning into your irises. And despite the tacky neon sign, the inside looks quite clean. You would know, you’ve been stalking their Instagram page for a while now.

There’s no one inside and you’re contemplating whether or not you should just get on with it. The idea of getting your nipples pierced had been a vague thought until recently. You desperately needed a change, you wanted something new and exciting. You wanted to feel sexy again. Your ex had certainly done a decent amount of damage to your self-esteem and that, plus your already low view of yourself, did not help your brain to see the good of you.

So many things could go wrong, you’ve read multiple articles about it. Your body might reject the piercing, it might leave a scar, irritate it. . .

G Suddenly, a brisk burst of frigid air gently caresses your cheeks, causing you to instinctively step back. Your gaze swiftly shifts from the interior of the shop to the door, where you notice that someone has just opened it, allowing the chilly air from the air conditioning inside to spill out.

Joel Miller, the shop's number one body piercer. Your cheeks burn, your pulse quickens, the sound of it flooding your ears. He’s tall and broad, his brown eyes staring at you with utter amusement. As you continue to just blatantly stare at him, he cocks his head to the side with a crooked smile.

“I’m closin’ in half an hour, sweetheart. If you’re thinkin’ of comin’ in, I’d do it now.”

“O–Oh,” you swallow thickly. “I can come back tomorrow if you’re closing up, sorry to bother you.”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile falling, “Well, I didn’t quite say that, now, did I?” Come on in, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

Tell him what you need—your heart beats in your throat, the lazy drawl of his words going directly between your legs. You mentally curse at yourself. How touch-starved are you? He’s just being polite. You’re the customer, it would’ve been weird if he just shooed you away.

Joel takes a step to the side, silently granting permission for you to enter. You stroll past him, making your way inside without uttering a word. The air conditioning is a blessing on your sweat-soaked skin. Even though you don’t have to, you briefly look at your surroundings. Just like your research had entailed, the shop was squeaky clean.

“So,” Joel clears his throat. “What can I do you for, sweetheart?”

Some part of you wishes that he could just understand without you having to form the words. You lick the back of your teeth, suddenly it’s very hard to breathe.

“I. . . wanted to get my nipples pierced—if that’s okay?”

“Of course, it is,” he smiles, much softer compared to his crooked smirk from before. “I’m Joel by the way,” he extends his hand and you take it with a sigh of relief, you feel much lighter now—

“I know.”

Your eyes go wide, both your hands stopping mid-shake. Joel’s amused glance is back again, his smile stretching into a grin, “You know?”

“I mean—well, I did research before I came here,” you answer quickly, aggressively almost, and release his hand. His grin only wides, a puff of air escaping his nostrils. “So that’s how I know your name.”

“Aren’t you the cautious one,” he turns on his heel and points towards the back. “If you’re set on what you want we can just head inside, I can explain the rest there.”

“Sure.”

Just as you both take a step you remember what you initially wanted to ask before going through with it and stop. Joel senses your lack of movement, turning around, you notice the furrow between his brow. “I actually wanted to ask something before we went on with it.”

“I’m all ears.”

Oh god, this is embarrassing, “So. . . my nipples are. . .flat—or is it more proper to call it small? I don’t know. Would that be an issue?”

The glimmer in his eyes returns full force, his expression of worry melting away, “I’ve never met a nipple I couldn’t pierce,” he teases. “So no need to worry that pretty head of yours.”

“Do you sweet talk with all your clients?” you ask, your lips twitching into a smile. You don’t know what it is, but you feel comfortable with him. Maybe it’s because you’ve been stalking his shop for so long. Either way, it’s a nice feeling.

“Only with the ones that know my name before I meet them.” His eyes gradually move up and down your body, eating you up. His tongue darts out and swipes over his bottom lip. You notice the faint shimmer that belongs to a silver tongue piercing. “And the ones that’ve been starin’ into my shop for least an hour.”

Joel takes a step closer and you feel your breath dissipating from your lungs. Dark, charcoal eyes sweep across your face. Your heartbeat is like a fearful hummingbird, hitting the bone cage in rapid succession. You swallow. By some miracle, you hold his gaze.

“You ready to go, little rabbit?”

All the tension drains from your bones and you burst out laughing, “Rabbit?” you giggle, your amusement only growing when you see his wide smile. “What the hell?”

“There’s that pretty smile,” he hums, pulling back. Joel stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Now that you’re relaxed we can get to business. We can stop whenever, so don’t feel pressured when you’re in the chair. You can just leave.”

You nod along as you follow him inside. You’re relieved when you see that it’s a spacious room with bright lighting that doesn’t irritate your eyes.

“First things first, let's pick out the piercing.” Joel walks towards one of the small glass cases and pulls out one of the drawers. Your excitement builds as he presents them to you. “Any ticklin’ your fancy?”

The light above gleams against the glass, there are so many and for a split second, you want them all. You never thought you would be labeling piercings as pretty. Looking them over, you decide you definitely want barbells instead of hoops. Now the question is which barbell one do you want?

“So many,” you mutter, eyes scanning over them again and again. You see one that says ‘cum here’ on each heart-shaped barbell. There’s a couple of them that say different things; kiss here, bite me, lick me— a shudder rolls down your spine. Your mind instantly fills with indecent thoughts, most of them staring at the man still patiently holding the glass case. You bite the inside of your cheek.

You bet he has the most skillful tongue—

“Oh, that one!” you exclaim suddenly, pointing at one in the shape of a heart. It’s decorated in shimmering rhinestones, the metal gold. When he inserts it, the heart would be framing your nipple. “It’s so cute.”

“You like shiny things, huh?” he smiles. “You gotta good eye, it’ll look good on you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, “Thanks.”

“Now lay on the bed, darlin’.”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the piercing bed. You’re about to lay on it before he stops you with a raised hand. “Take off your top.”

“Most guys buy me dinner first.”

“Har har very funny,” he rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, which in return makes you lightheaded. The expression is like a drug and you want to see more of it. More and more and more. “Besides, if you have a flat nipple I’m gonna need to stimulate it.”

“Excuse me?”

Joel is unaware of your blundering, he arranges the fresh, disposable drape and sterile forceps, placing it on the small portable workstation, “If you’re uncomfortable with that I can use the suction device too,” he answers nonchalantly. You watch breathlessly as he pulls on his black rubber gloves and finally turns to you. He raises an eyebrow. “Why’s your top still on?”

“I—I just wasn’t aware nipple play was involved.”

“You do realize where you’re gettin’ pierced right?” his lips twitch up. “You’re not drunk, are you sweetheart?”

“Very funny,” you answer, mimicking his tone from before. “But anyway, okay, I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Understandable,” you point towards the endless draws. “Want me to get the suction device?”

“God, no,” you let out a low chuckle. “Your fingers are just fine.”

“Never had any complaints before.”

Your stomach jumps, arousal caressing your skin similar to a summer breeze. The darkness in his eyes is back, his gaze intense and nerve-wracking.

“Will it hurt?” you mumble.

“I ain’t gonna lie so yeah, it will.”

“How much?”

“Depends, really.”

Your shoulders drop.

“Mine didn’t hurt that bad, to be honest, but my pain tolerance is quite high,” he mutters to himself rather than to you. He follows up with another sentence, probably something to soothe your worry but your brain is locked on to something very specific he just said.

“You have nipple piercings?” you ask incredulously. “Really?”

“I do, though it was more of a bet kind of situation. My brother loooves causing me trouble,” he sighs and crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. “But joke’s on him because I liked how they looked so I kept them.”

“Can. . . Can I see?”

“You gonna be a good girl and keep still when I pierce you?” Joel teases. You nod furiously, lips pressed tightly together. “A’right then.” He curls his fingers into the hem of his shirt and lifts it. Your eyes are glued to his chest—his entire torso. You see the way a soft trail of draw hair starts from his bellybutton and disappears under his jeans, you see the soft swell of his stomach, the muscle—your eyes move up, you finally see his nipples, pierced, just like he said, with silver barbells. You lean closer, your ass at the very edge of the piercing bed.

Joel suddenly drops his shirt, hiding away, he shrugs, “Nothin’ fancy, but still, I like’em,” saying that, he takes a seat on his chair and sways a bit thanks to the wheels underneath.

“Do—” you lick the back of your teeth. “Do they make it more sensitive?”

His smirk makes your heart skip a beat, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he points to your shirt. “Now off.”

Without a word, you peel off your shirt and unhook your bra. Joel’s eyes widen momentarily, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare torso. You’re confused for a moment. Surely, in his line of work, he’s seen many tits before—

Then you realize he’s staring at your tattoos.

You don’t have many, though you guess compared to others you do have many. Joel’s gaze lingers on your chest piece, two hands reaching towards each other with the sun and moon in between, decorating the dip between your breasts without going too deep. The blood rush of your body fills your ears, and your lips part with a gasp, his eyes instantly snap to your lips. You see the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

“Didn’t know you were tattooed, darlin’.”

“You like tattoos?” you ask, your voice hoarse and barely there. “I have more on my back.”

You swear his pupils dilate, “I’d love to see them after. If you’ll let me.”

“Sure,” you answer with a weak smile. “I don’t see a reason not to.”

He wheels closer, eyes dropping to your breasts. You look away. Your cheeks feel unreasonably warm despite the air conditioning running. Goosebumps blossom over every patch of skin. His mouth is too close, the warmth of his breath fans your chest, a pleasant tingle echoing over your breasts.

You’ve always felt a bit awkward about your nipples. They always seemed silly compared to your breast size, especially when you started seeing other nipples.

“I’m gonna touch you now,” he says softly, dragging you away from your thoughts. “I’m gonna massage it a bit to work it out, a’right?”

You nod and hold your breath simultaneously. He does your right nipple first. Just like he said, he massages the flesh closest to your nipple, easing it out. It feels good, undeniably so. The pads of his fingers work delicately. Deep down you wish he didn’t have to wear the gloves. Your body aches for his heat, his bare touch on your naked skin. Joel pinches a bit hard and you flinch, he mumbles an apology. You don’t have it in you to tell him that it didn’t actually hurt, rather, it felt good.

Soft whimpers threaten to escape your lips so you bite into the bottom one, hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing with deep inhales. His thumb swipes over your, now hard, nipple. “There we go,” he says.

You don’t open your eyes. Pain blossoms from the flesh of your lips, you feel them starting to swell.

“Hey,” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face, then you feel his thumb easing out your lips from between your teeth. “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that. Are you okay?”

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re just turned on? That this has been the most action you’ve had in months?

“I’m okay,” you answer. His brows furrow in disbelief and you can’t really blame him. You let out a long sigh. “I’m fine, I promise. I just got a little worked up.”

“Worked up?” His smile is back and in response, you want to bury your head in the sand. “What d’you mean?”

His hand slides to your waist, squeezing it gently. You stick your bottom lip out. “You know what I mean.”

“Hmmm, maybe,” his voice drips with cruel teasing, his thumb begins to draw lazy circles around your skin. You think he’s going to say something else but his gaze once again drops to your chest. “Looks like it disappeared, gonna need to work it out again.”

You expect his fingers—maybe for him to pinch a bit harder this time.

What you don’t expect, however, is his burning mouth on your cold skin.

“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, your body instinctively arching towards him. He groans as a response, taking more of you into his mouth. His tongue flicks your peaked nipple. You feel his teeth nipping the tender flesh and you gasp once more, a sharp moan rattling in your throat.

His eyes look up at you, momentarily he parts away, his lips are swollen, spit glistening at his lips, “This okay?”

“Yes.”

And he continues to devour you.

Your fingers bite into the leather bed, he laps at the pebbled flesh, purposefully rubs the tongue piercing into it. The sudden hardness of metal makes you jump and then melt into it, he repeats the movement of his tongue again and again, swirling it until your thighs start to shake. His hands briefly move to your tattoo, thick fingers dancing along the ink.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, directing his attention to your other nipple. He flicks at it first then closes his lips around it. Your underwear is sticky with slick, your legs in constant motion to relieve some of the tension from your throbbing clit. He cups your mound, presses his fingers into your clothed slit. “Be patient, I’m gettin’ there.” He sucks on your nipple and teases the other with his fingers, pinching and pulling them.

“Won’t be able to do this when we pierce them,” he growls, teeth sinking into your nipple, he flicks his tongue over it. “And you better not let anyone else touch’em too.”

Your head falls back with a groan. He flicks his tongue again when you grind into his palm, the friction not enough to quench your need for him. You grip his shoulder, urging him to move back. He does. You immediately feel guilty at the worry crossing his eyes.

You grip his shirt, slightly sliding it up his stomach, “Can I see how sensitive you are?”

A brush of color spreads from his neck to his cheeks. You smile. Red looks good on him.

He stands up, the chair wheeling away. Joel is quick to discard his shirt and you’re glad that the piercing bed makes it so that you’re in perfect tasting range. You spread your legs wider as he comes closer, taking his place between them. His skin touches your own, his warmth overwhelming yet welcomed.

You kiss his neck first. Then his collar bone, you suck on his skin, teasing the sensitive flesh with your teeth. He shudders. Slowly you make your way down, your thumbs push at the pierced nipples and he moans behind gritted teeth. Smiling sweetly at him, you swirl your tongue around one, playing with the other. Your tongue moves over the bead of the piercing, you tilt it which in return twists the nipple. Another tremble overwhelms him, his body curling around you even further. The outline of his cock is prominent through his jeans, his body impulsively grinding against your stomach. You moan at the hardness, and he moans at the pressure.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he rasps, hips jerking. “But let’s take care of you now, I bet your panties are soaked, darlin’.”

Fuck, it is.

Joel drags his lips down your cheek, he kisses your neck slowly, the metal on his tongue forcing a shudder up your spine and making you curious about how it’ll feel on your cunt.

“Want to eat you out from behind, sweetheart, wanna see those tattoos.”

His hands are a constant on your skin as you hop off the bed and bend over, he helps you with your jeans, reaching around and unbuttoning it for you. The fabric suddenly feels too tight on your skin and you need to get rid of it—now.

The harsh fabric pools at your ankles and you kick them away. His fingers play with the elastic of your underwear, pulling and twisting. The heft of him rubs between the crease, thick cock straining against his zipper. You expect him to take off his jeans too. Your piercer is full of surprises, though, and instead of doing the predictable thing, he continues to roll his hips whilst tracing the pads of his fingers over tattoos.

“Fuck, they’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he mumbles. His touch is ticklish, yet arousing at the same time. More slick gathers at the fabric. You’re desperate for his touch. By the movement of his fingers you guess which of them he’s stroking. First, it’s the fox that stretches over your spine, beams of sun framing its face. Then it’s the smoke-like lines that are closer to your shoulder and the other one near your hip. Joel can’t seem to get enough of it. His palms are flat against inky skin, trying to feel the thought of you while you got them.

You gasp at the touch of soft lips and soft tongue. He licks a slow line up your spine, tracing over the fox and sunlight. By pure instinct you bend over further, your breasts completely pressed against the leather. You’ve never been more glad to have tattoos in your goddamn life—he’s worshipping them, the figures that adorn your skin.

His velvet tongue is replaced by sharp teeth, your back arches, ass pressing further into his clothed cock. Joel trembles and follows your eager movements with another tender bite.

“I love them,” he mouths over the inky smoke near your shoulder. “I love feeling you, touching you. I could just do this for hours. You feel amazin’ against my skin, my sweet little rabbit.”

This time you don’t laugh at the absurd nickname. His name drips from your damp lips like honey, sweet to say and sticking to your tongue.

His hand dips between your legs and his mouth moves down to your ass, he kisses the plump flesh as two fingers stroke you from over the fabric of your underwear. His groan reverberates on your skin, teeth skimming the flesh, “Fuck, you actually are soaked,” Joel hums and slips them under, gathering you around his fingers. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you gasp, raising your hips. “P-Please—”

Joel shushes you, “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he gets down to his knees and as he does, a small grunt leaves his lips.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Just fine,” he kisses your pussy and you’re instantly melting towards his mouth, a groan ripping from your throat. “A sacrifice I’m willin’ to make.”

Joel doesn’t give you the chance to reply or offer to change positions, he slides your panties to the side, licking into you hungrily. You shudder and your upper body jolts, forming the perfect arch. He presses deeper. Licking and teasing your clit with the tip. He cups both sides of your ass and gives them a gentle smack. Your eyes roll at the mild pain, your slick coating his lips, tongue, and chin. The rough hairs of his beard chafe your skin, only adding to the pleasure.

“Taste so good, beautiful,” Smack. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, make you come until there’s a goddamn puddle on the floor.”

“Oh god—” you choke on air, a moan locking in your throat the same time you’re trying to gasp for air. His words and the swirl of his tongue are downright sinful. He flattens his tongue and parts your folds with the soft muscle, teasing your entrance.

Joel pulls you back against him, his lips teaching your clit, your jaw drops, a jolt of pleasure rushing through you and tightening your nipples. It’s filthy, that’s all you can think. If someone walked through those doors right this instant, they would see his face between your cheeks, drinking from you like a man dying of thirst.

Your head drops, mouth flooding with saliva, you roll your hips; begging, asking for more. He gives it to you. Two thick fingers slide into you with ease, his mouth leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on your ass.

“Gonna come for me?” he asks, voice full of gravel. “Come on, give it to me, let me see how your pussy throbs, sweetheart.”

He curls his fingers and you imagine him smirking as he breaks you apart. You cry out his name, your entire body shuddering as if lightning struck it, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. . .” He continues to thrust his fingers in and out, you feel yourself dripping, imagine yourself making a puddle just like he asked for. “Give it to me, honey. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, look at you. . .”

Joel spreads you with his fingers and delves back into you, he draws circles around your clit, his jaw constantly moving with every lick. He doesn’t stop until he’s coaxing another orgasm out of you—your head fills with bliss, your body lifeless.

When he’s done feasting, he slowly gets up with his hands sliding to your back. He leans down to pepper more kisses onto your tattoos, your skin tingling and singing at the contact.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, lips sucking at your neck. “Then let’s get those pretty nipples pierced.”

“W—What about you?” you ask breathlessly.

Joel helps you sit back up on the bed, you part your legs so he can come closer, he accepts the invitation with a wide smile, “I have a feelin’ we’ll be seein’ more of each other, sweetheart. You can make it up to me then.”

Your heart skips a beat and your lips part.

You have a strong feeling that he’s right.

With gloved hands, Joel carefully opens a sterile needle package. You watch with rapt attention as he takes out the fresh needle, inspecting it. Your body is still thrumming with pleasure, your head still swimming in a daze. All you can hear is his breathing.

He had already walked you through everything while preparing for the procedure. No touching, no swimming. You had to clean them softly in the shower and that was meant to be the only source of water your nipples touch for a while. If there was any irritation or marks, you were to reach out immediately.

Honestly, you found it cute that he’d gotten so serious all of a sudden. It was nice to see him so professional too, so competent.

He comes closer and your body seizes. You hold your breath. With a sudden need to distract yourself, your eyes linger on to the walls. Your brows furrow in surprise when you notice the tattoo designs. You thought this was only a piercing shop.

“You do tattoos too?” you ask nervously.

“My brother does,” he answers. “He works the tattoo side of the business and I do the piercings.”

“It’s nice that it’s in the family. . .”

“Sweetheart, I know what you’re doin’. You’ll be fine I promise.”

“Okay. I trust you mister man-I-just-met.”

He grins, “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it ten minutes ago.”

“Touché.”

Joel prompts you to lay on the piercing table, he approaches you with a reassuring smile on his face. You can feel your heart racing as you nervously anticipate the pain of getting your nipples pierced, you imagine the worst, your heart beating in tune with your fear.

He carefully cleans the area around your nipples and marks the spot where the piercing will go. He double-checks the placement with you to ensure you're happy with it. You give a slight nod, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs. “It’ll only hurt for a second.”

With steady hands, Joel takes the needle. You feel a sharp pinch as it punctures through your skin, but the pain dissipates quickly. You let out a small whimper, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just a bit more,” he comforts you and you nod with a long exhale.

After the needle is through, he quickly follows it with the jewelry, securing it in place. You watch in awe as he attaches the beautiful barbells to your nipples, the adrenaline and endorphins making the pain feel less than it is.

Once the piercings are in place, Joel gently cleans the blood before you can get a look.

“Aaand done, tell me what you think.”

You’re surprised that he has a mirror in hand when you sit back up. Your gaze finds your reflection and an instant smile spreads across your face.

“You like’em?” he asks, his tone shy.

“Like them?” you gasp. “I love them! Thank you!”

“Oh that’s a relief,” he leans back into the chair, slightly rolling away with a relieved smile. “No matter how many times I do it, I still get nervous.”

“I definitely love them,” you say, you get up to wear your shirt but end up wincing at the sharp pain. You look at Joel between squinted eyes. “When did you say the pain would stop again?”

“It’s gonna take a while,” he answers with a sympathetic smile. “You don’t know how much your nipples touch stuff until you get’em pierced.”

“Well, at least they look good.”

He shoots you a wink, “They sure do, little rabbit.”

“That nickname is still ridiculous.”

“Should I remind you that the last time I used it you came on my tongue?”

“Nope no reminder needed,” you put your shirt back on, smiling. “I’m still going through the aftershocks.”

“Good,” he stands with you, hands on your waist, he pulls you as close as he can without your nipples touching his chest. “So, you wanna go out?” Joel’s gaze drops to your chest and he licks his lips, “Gotta make sure you’re takin’ care of them properly.”

“My hero.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller au #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #scheduled post

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