#at first i thought it was just a thin hair (bc i have the habit of using split ends to tear my hairs in half hotdog style) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 3 years ago

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𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aeon, bai, loen, mercury, nidhogg, orlando, qin yi, reid, royce, shade, xiao ( no not genshin xiao you simps ), and zhu

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: god you look so damn delicious, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get at least get a taste.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): sexual content, sub reader, switch reader, established relationship, creampie, office sex, partly-clothed sex, mirror sex, public sex, jealous sex, clothed sex, cumming inside ( breeding kink ), overstimulation, oral sex, daddy/sir kink, hickies, cockwarming, fingering, rough sex, gentle sex, bondage, mouth gag, thigh-fucking, sex toy ( vibrator ), bath sex, sensory deprivation, tummy bulge, size kink, blindfold, mating press

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: gender neutral

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: a seat ー arin ray

yes i have finally written something nsfw for love nikki and shining nikki because i'm a mega hoe, and JESUS i just wanted to write for like 5 but got carried away lmaooo. smut blurbs ahead bc i said so, and spoilers for love nikki/ shining nikki and for those who haven't played the games

also apologizes if i mess up the characters bc they can be complex and also bc some i just wanna fist fight lmao

nsfw below!

𝘼𝙀𝙊𝙉 who has the habit of fucking you against his desk in the lab, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hips piston into you from behind. All of his research and work has long since been forgotten, now his mind is only focused on the hazy heat that now clouds his mind. He has a bruisingly hard grip on your hips as he thrusts into your tight heat, his once composed and stoic face now nothing more than a memory. you'd think they were two different people entirely just from how much he loses himself in you.

his black sweater easily hides the bites and hickies that are left upon his smooth skin after a session with you. but of course, the reddened skin is obviously tender, and he softly grunts when the fabric brushes against the marks. sometimes when he's alone in his lab, he'll trace the areas gently, and wonders what you're doing at the moment and if you're thinking of him as well. just the thought of you energizes him and brings a foreign but soft smile to his lips.

𝘼𝙀𝙊𝙉 who interlaces his fingers with your own, craving even just a small moment of intimacy with you. especially while he's busy burying his length into your welcoming heat. if he's taking you from behind, he'll press heated kisses to your bare shoulder and even the tips of your cute ears. when he's facing you, he won't stop kissing you, only pulling away to breathe and admire the sight beneath him. if any stray hairs have wandered onto your heated face, he takes the time to brush them away and press a kiss to your forehead afterward.

you can't convince me that this man is absolutely sexually repressed since he tends to coop himself up in his work and maintaining the ark. so when you first pull his cock out of the confines of his pants, he's rather embarrassed by all of the heat that pools in his stomach and how it's making his vision go hazy. it ends up with you having to ride him yourself, doing your best to not collapse from both your muscles being used to their limits and the pleasure of his cock rubbing against your walls in all of the right ways. he ends embracing you tightly close with his face pressed into your chest.

𝘼𝙀𝙊𝙉 who adores seeing you in his dark blue coat, especially after sex when he's pampering you with anything that he can fetch. it's incredibly oversized on you, with the sleeves engulfing your hands and swallowing up your bare body. so it becomes commonplace for him to wrap the big jacket around you while he's fucking up into you, and you look so damn adorable like that, so he ends up hugging you into his chest while his cock plows into you rapidly.

his cock is on the skinny side, and it curves up just a little. but it's really pretty, and isn't too thin nor thick, and gives you just the right stretch when he sinks himself inside of you. it makes everything easier, especially when you suck him off from underneath his desk, gripping his upper thighs as you bob your head dangerously closer to his crotch. he has to bite his lips and clench his fists to keep himself from making any noises because he knows that he's going to start moaning if he lets loose for even a moment.

𝘽𝘼𝙄 who unintentionally pushes your face into the crook of his neck as he fucks you into the mattress, his long silver hair draping flowing down and framing his handsome face as it contorts into one of restrained pleasure. it forces you to wrap your legs around his waist, trapping his fat cock inside your tight and wet walls, and ends with him fisting the sheets in his strained hand from how good you feel around him.

he always tends to be busy, being a regent, a mentor, and the head of his own clanーand having to deal with zhu of course. so it's not really a surprise that he can't spend as much time with you as any other couple in Cloud Empire would. but you've managed to find a loopholeーslipping under his desk and whipping out his thick cock and wrapping your soft lips around the throbbing lengths. his stoic face doesn't give away anything, but if you looked closely, you'd be able to see his neck muscles tensing as he feels himself being shoved completely inside the spasming walls of your throat. once he's either alone or with less work to deal with, he has one hand steady on your head, tangling his thick fingers in your ( hair color ) hair.

𝘽𝘼𝙄 who is so thick and doesn't even know it, to the point of where he has to spend countless moments just fingering you open so you won't feel the stinging discomfort of having your pretty walls wrenched open. even when he has nearly all of his fingers buried deep within your walls, and your adorable cries as he rubs against those spots inside of you that make you unravel, it doesn't prepare you for his thickness as it pushes itself inside.

speaking of his generous size, he's actually incredibly gentle each time he has you bent over your shared bed, blindly grabbing at your hand and motioning for you to loosen your grip on the sheets, replacing them with his fingers instead. when you're facing him, back arched as his fat cock thrusts up into your awaiting hole, he'll press a kiss onto your knuckles, slowing down his thrusts as he does so.

𝘽𝘼𝙄 who tends to leave hickies and bites on the inside of your thighsーhis sort of way of praising you without ever having to use his voice. he has a tender grip on the fat of your thighs as he suckles on the tender skin, the wet noises being mixed in with his deep groans as he becomes entirely intoxicated on you and spreads your thighs as his mouth nears your trembling sex. before long, you can feel his hot breath heaving down, and it's enough to have pre-cum dribble out of your pretty sex in anticipation.

since he's the head of his own clan, and so much responsibility comes with that position, there's quite a lot of silent, but persistent pressure to continue the bloodline, whether it be by natural ways or by adoption. so during the times where he's practically making you see stars, he'll ask in between gruff groans if he can cum inside. he doesn't care if you can't get pregnant due to medical or gender reasons, he still favors cumming inside. especially when he finally tires, and pulls his now limp cock out of your stuffed hole, a perverted sense of satisfaction in watching the thick liquid ooze out and drip down your thighs.

𝙇𝙊𝙀𝙉 who teasingly rubs your inner thighs under the table at the cafe he took you out on a date. he warns you not to make any of your cute sounds aloud for nearby passerby's unless you really want to be caught that badly. he ends up rubbing the flat of his hand against your quivering sex, murmuring about how your underwear has already gotten so soaked, and how you must really enjoy all of this.

honestly, he may be a flirt, but he can get jealous too y'know! he doesn't get mad at you, because he knows that none of it is even your fault. this person just didn't take the hint even though you were very clearly not interested. so he ends up dragging you into the nearest alley, already attacking your neck with a flurry of heated kisses and hickies that are sure to be sore later. next thing you know, he has you facing the wall, hands clutching onto nothing but the rough bricks as he pounds into you from behind. right now, he could care less if that person walks by and sees youーhell, let them. maybe then they'll get the hint that he's the only one who can charm you with teasing words and get you to make those cute noises that he always loves hearing.

𝙇𝙊𝙀𝙉 who will gift you a hoodie that is very clearly too big on you, but he insists you keep it, and you cave in. but dear lord if he catches you wearing the oversized hoodie around him, he will pounce on you and refuse to let you go. it ends up with you sitting on his lap while his hands play with your pebbled nipples and bouncing you up and down his length. he ends up overstimulating your poor hole, his excitement ultimately getting the better of him. he at least does apologize, albeit with a dopey grin and twinkling eyes.

he loves overstimulating you any chance he can get, and won't pull his mouth away no matter how much you try to pry him off. his blonde locks tickle the doughy skin of your thighs as his warm mouth envelops your dripping sex, and he'll let out low hums, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. even when you finally cum from his ministrations, he continues to lick and slurp away, only pulling his mouth away to wipe away any of your excess cum that dribbles from the corners of his upturned lips.

𝙇𝙊𝙀𝙉 who can absolutely fuck you dumb when he wants to, and it's usually after he's come back from a mission that dragged on for longer than he would have anticipated. being a mercenary is absolutely hard work, and he misses you so much by the time he comes back. so it shouldn't surprise you that he throws you over his shoulder and carries you off to the bedroom, tossing you down onto the bed and slamming his lips onto yours, greedily intertwining his tongue with yours as his hands are busy shedding his clothes. before long, he has your cute ass pressed taut against his crotch, and if you try and move away from his harsh and rapid thrusts, he'll pull you back, relishing in your choked moans as his fat cock is shoved deeper inside, rubbing against your most sensitive spots.

he has absolutely made you cockwarm him, whether it be out at the restaurant he had offhandedly recommended, or just in the cozy confines of your home. either way, he does quite the job at hiding any of his reactions while his cock is sat snug within your velvety walls, and will even hug you from around your stomach, knowing damn well that the added pressure presses your walls tighter around his length. despite your cries and whimpers, he presses kisses to your flushed cheeks.

𝙈𝙀𝙍𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙔 who coldly delivers punishments whenever he catches you touching yourself without permission. he stares you down as he sits down right in front of you, leaning in until his silver-grey locks tickle the supple skin of your cheeks. his gloved hands will torturously and agonizingly slowly rub your heated sex, gradually bringing you to your peak. but just when you're about to cum, he pulls his hands away, a faint smirk present on his lips as he soaks up your whimpers from the loss of stimulation. he won't stop until he feels satisfied that you've learned your lesson.

he may not look like it, but he can get prone to the bubbling feelings of envy, although he tries to push down those burning thoughts as deep as he can. but he ends up pushing you against the nearest surface once you're alone and roughly pushes off your clothes, his gloved hand dipping into your bottoms as he hurriedly prepares your tight hole for what is to come next. what ensues is his fat cock roughly thrusting into your tight hole, countless orgasms forced out of your body as he uses you like a pretty little cocksleeve. he's fucked you so much that you have to lean on him afterward and stumble with each step.

𝙈𝙀𝙍𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙔 who folds your body in half should you decide to become snarky with that smart little mouth of yours. he watches, albeit huffing and hissing at the way that your walls clamp down on his thick cock as he pounds into you like you're his personal cocksleeve. even if you're long since spent, he still continues to pound into you, finally stopping when his stamina has run its course and pulls his now limp cock out of your hole.

he tends to degrade you while he's taking you from behind, taunting you for enjoying something so perverted as this, and how much of a lewd pervert you are for cumming so easily from being entered. if he's feeling much crueler, he'll bring his hand down on the fat on your ass, causing you to yelp loudly and cry out from the stinging sensation and him to hiss as your walls clamp down even tighter on his cock.

𝙈𝙀𝙍𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙔 who ties your hands above with his belt, and keeps them above your head for the remainder of the night with his hand. but he'll either fuck you stupid until your poor brain turns into an overstimulated mess from how rough he was, or he edges you until you cry from the pain and loss of stimulation each time and you end up having to beg like a bitch in heat.

he's one for quickies, since he tends to be busier than most, so if you get called to his side, it's either because he missed you, or he has some pent-up frustration and you just so happen to be the solution to that. he'll either have you, prettily bent over his desk, or on your knees, sloppily sucking him off while his gloved hand tangles itself in your hair. he doesn't let you leave, even after you're spent, keeping you tucked under his chin and he doesn't exactly take kindly to anyone walking in during this time.

𝙉𝙄𝘿𝙃𝙊𝙂𝙂 who holds your face in place when you have your pretty lips wrapped around his thick cock, and the tears that well up in the corner of your eyes only make him want to go harder. he uses your throat like his personal cocksleeve and your poor throat is so sore by the end of it that you can hardly speak without it cracking. it doesn't help that he cums quite a lot, and thrusts faster in a frenzied mess when he reaches his peak.

he absolutely has a sir/daddy kink and you cannot tell me otherwise. if you call him by his name, he sternly reminds you to call him sir while his thick cock is fucking open your walls like it's nothing. he has you refer to him as so during punishments, and demanding you look him right in the eye. but if he's feeling more teasing, he lets you call him daddy, and you bet he's gonna fuck you hard and get you moaning like a bitch in heat. he won't let you out from underneath him until you're just a pretty little fucked out mess.

𝙉𝙄𝘿𝙃𝙊𝙂𝙂 who spanks you when he's hitting it from the back, sadistically relishing in the way you cry out from the stinging sensation. he did it just to keep you from passing out on him, but now he does it just because he loves hearing your pathetically cute moans and cries. and he tends to hit a bit hard since he's so in the moment that he can't control his strength, so it leaves behind stinging red handprints.

definitely has a size kink, but he hides it well under that cold and stern face. he loves watching a small bump rise where his cock is rubbing up against your spasming walls. he's fascinated with the way his fat cock is somehow able to fit inside you since he's so big, and you just squeeze down so damn tightly around him. you sound so cute when you're whimpering as you struggle to accommodate his fat length and the sensation of being stuffed full.

𝙉𝙄𝘿𝙃𝙊𝙂𝙂 who craves to see your fucked out face after he fucked you like a whore, and spilling his thick cum inside of you until it begins to dribble out. he loves seeing the aftermath of your rough sessionsーthe way you feebly try to grip onto the bedsheets as you try and make sense of everything, or the way his cum dribbles out of your spent hole as it tries to desperately close around something to keep the milky liquid inside, but ultimately failing.

he once fucked you in his office and nearly got caught in the process, and now enjoys seating you on his lap, his fat cock pulsing inside of your spasming walls. if you pressed down on your stomach, you'd swear you'd feel the outline of his cock pressing upwards. you can't tell what's worseーthat fact that he looks near unaffected, except for the occasional flexing of his neck muscles or the fact that so many of his subordinates have walked in and assumed he was attempting to be romantic with you for once and not be a distant son of a bitch. oh, how wrong they are.

𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙊 who gets sucked off until he's milked completely dryーdespite his embarrassed protests all the while, which become more garbled and choked the more your mouth takes. he's so embarrassed with how lewd all of this is, and with how eager his body responds to the wet heat surrounding his throbbing erection. and he's especially embarrassed with how quickly he cums inside your throat, biting his lips to keep his moans in.

it's quite fun holding him down and jerking him off while he lets out a flurry of jumbled words as your fingers wrap tighter around the throbbing erection. you'll push your nipple onto his lips, which he takes the hint of and begins to suck away on the pebbled nub in order to distract himself from the tight feeling of your hand. for a military officer, he sure does lose his composure from getting jerked off huh.

𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙊 who fucks your thighs in frenzied thrusts, too flustered to actually stick his fat cock in your gummy walls. so he settles for slipping himself in between your soft thighs and busying his mouth with hurried kisses to the shell of your ear and flushed cheeks. he lets out a lot of heavy groans and grunts from how good your thighs feel around his throbbing length and ends up cumming all over them without pulling out.

he really likes it when you cling onto him as he's fucking you since it makes him feel like he's doing a good job. he has his arms wrapped around your back while his cock is sat snug in your tight walls. it also gives him a nice view of your flushed and fucked out face as his fat cock splits you open and rubs against your walls in all of the right ways since he can kiss you gently without having to strain his muscles.

𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙊 who gets cock-warmed when he's supposed to be working, but instead his forehead is rested against your shoulder while he's breathing quite heavily, trying so hard to not focus on the tight heat that envelops his fat cock. what makes it worse is that you shift your hips every so often, forcing his throbbing erection further inside of your insides. even if he cums, he can't go fetch you anything or do something because the thick liquid would spill out onto his tailored pants, and everyone would know what exactly he was doing.

he sometimes gets rough with you when he gets more stressed or pent up from all of your teasings. so it ends up with him plowing into you relentlessly, leaving you to claw and clamber at his back as you moan and cry out like some bitch. he doesn't stop until he's finally exhausted himself and your pretty hole has gone numb. he does profusely apologize afterward and offers to get you anything, but you just wanna be held by your dorky officer of a boyfriend. so he obliges and gingerly holds you close until you fall asleep and he soon follows suit.

𝙌𝙄𝙉 𝙔𝙄 who keeps his composure even while he's balls deep inside of you, only merely sighing and his hands bruisingly gripping down on your hips and letting out soft and hushed groans whenever he finally cums deep inside of your spasming walls. you'd think he was watching a rather dull play or something like that, but he does let out the occasional pleasured sigh with each squeeze your walls bring around his cock.

he will calmly rehearse his lines for any upcoming dramas he may participate in, reciting any lines he seems to stumble over. then, his silvery eyes turn to face you, where you lay bound on his bed, your moans muffled by a gag and your body trembling as the toy inside of you continues to buzz away. he merely sighs, mumbling something about you being oh so helpless. really, you're just a pervert, aren't you?

𝙌𝙄𝙉 𝙔𝙄 who whispers pure filth into your ears, his porcelain-smooth face unmoving, never giving even an ounce of lecherous reaction that could give away his thoughts. he knows what an effect his smooth and silky voice can have on you, so he uses it heavily to his advantageーtelling you exactly what he's going to do to you, and how you're such a pervert for getting off to some words like this

he leaves behind little kisses that tickle your skinーlike a butterfly's wing fluttering against your bare skin. it can cause a bubble of giggles to arise from your mouth, but it doesn't last for long when he suddenly begins to suck harshing, littering your neck with bruising hickies that throb if you press your fingers down.

𝙌𝙄𝙉 𝙔𝙄 who takes you against the mirror, his hands harshly gripping your hips as his piston into you from behind. while he can't see your face up close, he can still see your reflection and each and every reaction you make. just forcing you to watch your reflection and see all of your fucked out expressions arouses him far more than he lets on.

he holds your hands above your head whenever he's pounding into youーthat way you won't be able to run away from him and the intense pleasure he's giving you. the way you cry and squirm against his hold on you has heat pooling down south, and it only makes him want to fuck you until you can only cling onto him and be a cute little cocksleeve for him.

𝙍𝙀𝙄𝘿 who somehow convinces you to allow him to slip a small vibrator into your gummy walls while he's able to control the intensity of the vibrations from a distance away. he doesn't turn it on for the first few minutes, leading you on to believe that he won't do anything. until you feel a deep vibration inside of you and you near fall to the ground, biting your lip to keep your moans inside. you know you have to keep your composure unless you want everyone to hear you moan like some kind of bitch with your insides being assaulted by a plastic toy.

he enjoys watching you as you unravel beneath him, his cock fucking you open over and over. the way you try to muffle your shameful moans and try to blink back the tears that well up in your doe eyes just rile him up even more and makes him wanna fuck you even harder until your mind near breaks from all of the overwhelming pleasure assaulting your body.

𝙍𝙀𝙄𝘿 who fucks you with your ass pressed taut against his crotch while your head is buried in the silk pillowcase. while not seeing your cute face and adorable reactions to the drag of his cock inside your gummy walls isn't ideal for him, seeing your back arch as he hits your most pleasurable spots satisfies him enough. that and your butt just looks really cute with the way it bounces with each of his thrusts into you from behind.

the amount of times he's had you cockwarm him while he's doing his work has been so numerous that you've just lost count altogether. he doesn't seem a bit unbothered in the slightest with how tightly your walls pulse around him; only pressing kisses to your cheek every so often and telling you how adorable you are. he pretends to stretch out his legs, but in reality, he's only pushing his cock further in your insides and seeing how long it'll take before you start moaning.

𝙍𝙀𝙄𝘿 who fingers you under the table slyly without anyone noticing or picking up on the fact of how your body trembles with each of his fingers movements and how perfectly they rub up against your walls in just the right ways. he does warn you not to stain his tailor-made suit since he doesn't the rather lecherous rumors to swirl about behind his back. so he edges you for as long as he can, denying you your orgasm and building up your tension and frustration for...later use.

he has a daddy kink, but he's more teasing with, especially if you start moaning it by accident and, well, it takes him by surprise but he rolls with it and gives you what you want. tauntingly asking you " what do you want daddy to do, hm? and "speak up for daddy babe" because he knows, that sly bastard, that you're enjoying this far more than him, seeing as how you're chanting it in a lewd mantra, and, well, who is he to deny his baby what they want?

𝙍𝙊𝙔𝘾𝙀 who spoils you a little too much when he's pounding away into you, hugging you into his chest tenderly, or pressing flurry of kisses all over your face and chuckling to himself as you try, but fail, to hide your face from his soft lips. he is quick to bring you back to reality however, with one deep thrust angled perfectly, he has you moaning and reeling back in seconds.

he's such a hopeless romantic in bedーthe bedsheets showered with soft rose petals that sway with each thrust he makes into your hole or the lingering scent that sways in the dim room that leaves your head and vision heated and swirling. even while he's pounding away and rubbing against your walls in all the right ways, he still embraces you close and refuses to let go, even after he's exhausted both you and him.

𝙍𝙊𝙔𝘾𝙀 who would gladly be buried in between that adorable spot in between your legs all day if he could. he treats your cum like it's the sweetest of ambrosia's, drinking it up and getting drunk on your taste alone. he spends so long with his warm mouth attached to your quivering sex that he overstimulates you until you cum just from a swipe of his tongue or several strokes of his long fingers. it's to the point where he just stays there and won't even stick his cock inside unless you remind him.

he really likes 69-ing, and he isn't afraid to initiate it when he's engaging in foreplay with you. not only can he make you feel good with his warm mouth, you can suck him off as well! it ends up becoming a bit intense since he gets so into it that you end up cumming multiple times in a row just from his mouth alone. he doesn't fare much better, making hurried and small thrusts up into your tight throat and cumming down it as well.

𝙍𝙊𝙔𝘾𝙀 who sneaks into the bath with you, hugging you to his chest as he rests his chin on your wet shoulder. it isn't until a few moments after that you feel something hard prodding at your backside. he at least has the courtesy to ask if he can stick it in, his face uncharacteristically flushedーfrom either the warm steam or how aroused he is, you can't tell. all you can tell is that he slides his cock in carefully, but prefers keeping it snug inside your walls, the warm water soothing his nerves and calming him down.

teasing makeout sessions often devolve into heavy and heated sessions of him taking you against his plush loveseat, letting out high-pitched whimpers as your walls spasm around him. he tries to keep in his ever=rising voice by pressing his face into the crook of your neck while his hands fondle the rest of your body. when he feels more desperate, he'll lock his plush lips against yours, melding them together as he rocks his hips against yours.

𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙀 who buries his face in your shoulder while his hips buck up feverishly to meet yours, the only audible noises coming from him being grunts and groans, and his occasional whispers of sweet nothings. he doesn't verbally say it, but he loves it when you start stroking his messy white locks, softly humming from the pleasant sensations from your hand, and nuzzling up into the comforting warmth. it's such a wholesome contrast from the rather lewd activity you were engaged in moments before.

he has the habit of burying his face in between your legs, much to your embarrassment from how sudden it is. he treats your cum like its handmade ambrosia crafted by the heavens themselves, and he wouldn't exactly let such a delicacy go to waste. due to that, he ends up accidentally overstimulating you, causing you to cum inside of his awaiting mouth and leaving you breathless from how good it all felt. but sometimes he doesn't stop there and keeps going, gripping your hips to keep you in place while you squirm from the intense pleasure of his mouth wrapped around your quivering sex.

𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙀 who has you ride him because he doesn't want the possibility of accidentally hurting you, and also because he doesn't exactly know what's he doing. ah, don't worry, he won't make you do all the work by yourself, since he'll roll his hips upwards and grip your waist whenever your muscles tire from all the extra exercise. that and he likes sucking on your nipples while he's bucking his hips up into your welcoming heat, the extra stimulation seeming to excite him more.

he surprisingly likes being praised by you, especially when he's fucking you into the sheets, as he noticeably becomes more flushed from the gentle words. whether it be your fingers brushing through his messy white locks while he has his mouth on your dripping sex, or your hushed words as he thrusts up into the spot that makes you see stars, he appreciates and lives for your praises. especially when it's his first time ever pleasing you in such a way.

𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙀 who leaves behind cute love bites from his failed attempts to keep his noises in. you were too focused on the delicious pleasure of his cock sliding in and out and rubbing against all of your sweet spots that you hardly even notice them to begin with. but he does apologize the morning after, averting his eyes while his cheeks begin to heat up, and awkwardly offers to go fetch you anything. if you weren't so exhausted from last night, you'd have thought this was an entirely different person.

cumming inside of your tight and wet walls is such a treat for this man, since it makes him feel much more connected with you. he especially loves having his lips pressed up against your own, heavily kissing you like his life depends on it. the kiss not only takes your breath away and makes your mind dizzy from how rough it is, but also because his hips begin to thrust up into yours in a frenzied flurry like he's desperately chasing his orgasm.

𝙓𝙄𝘼𝙊 who causes a pretty tummy bulge to appear every time he fucks you cause he's just so damn big. it feels like you're gonna break every time he slides himself inside of you, and you cry from how damn full you feel just from his cock alone. and he doesn't exactly hide his arousalーhe keeps taunting you for each muffled cry and moan you try to suppress, and will slowly drag his fat cock against all of the right spots of your velvety walls.

the type to fuck you into a mating press until you're a fucked out mess. he loves the way you let out garbled moans as his cock reaches your deepest parts and how you try to desperately grab onto the thin sheets. it's to the point where it's becoming more common for him to fuck you like that each time the two of you get heated. you have to ask him to carry you around after because you can barely walk without your knees giving in.

𝙓𝙄𝘼𝙊 who won't stop stuffing you full with his cum each time he reaches his peak. he cums so much each time that it just spurts out whether there's no more room left inside of you, and it ends up dribbling down your legs. when he's about to reach his peak, he pulls you taut against his crotch, ensuring that you'll be stuffed full yet again. even after he's done for the time, you have to deal with the heavy feeling of his cum within the confines of your hole until you can clean out the milky liquid.

he has absolutely no shame in taking you out in semi-public areas where anyone could walk past and see him fucking you against the wall like you're a bitch in heat. you have to hold tightly onto him and lock your legs around him because if not for that, you'd have fallen onto the ground long ago. you end up burying your face in his broad shoulder because you sound like a whore with the way you're moaning each time he thrusts up into you.

𝙓𝙄𝘼𝙊 who facefucks you so rough that you have to pull your sore mouth away just to breathe. his cock is so thick and your jaw stings just from how wide you have to have your mouth when you suck him off. if it weren't for his occasional grunt and muscles straining, you'd think he was getting bored or something. when he cums, he keeps your pretty face taut against his crotch, telling you that you can't go wasting his precious seed now can you?

he is hardly ever gentle, much preferring to fuck your pretty hole until you can't feel your legs anymore and you have to lean against him for support. each time he slams himself inside of your tight walls you have to grip onto something and try and muffle your noises because you know you're going to moan like a bitch in heat if you even so much as open your mouth. he doesn't seem to really care, but on some occasions, he'll force any obstructions away so he can hear those pathetically cute moans of yours.

𝙕𝙃𝙐 who teasingly blows hot puffs of air into your ears as he cups your chin with his smooth hand, while his other busies itself with untying your loose night robes. when he finally loosens them enough, he wastes no time in dipping his hand inside, fondling whatever his hands can reach, especially your nipples, which he pinches and rolls in between his fingers. it's his favorite way of teasing you after being gone for nearly the entire day, and he has quite a lot of pent-up stress and frustration.

he loves how helpless you look when he's tied a silk ribbon around those doe-like eyes of yours, and how you squirm so pathetically underneath his firm grasp. he purposefully takes his timeーslowly savoring each of your reactions and rubbing the rough pads of his fingertips against your most sensitive spots. he slowly builds you up to your orgasm and will continue to push you and hold you down while he does so. he's such a tease, so don't expect to be let go until he's had his fun.

𝙕𝙃𝙐 who gets off to seeing his cum staining your pristine skin, now splattered with the thick milky liquid. while he's thrusting into your tight hole and about to cum, so he'll pull out and purposefully and hurriedly jerk himself off to completion. the way your pretty hole desperately clenches around nothing but air excites him, and he isn't exactly afraid to be vocal about his rather perverse interest. hell, he'll even shove his throbbing erection back inside just after you've cum just to feel your fluttering walls and to hear your adorable cries as you attempt to weakly push him away due to the sheer overstimulation.

he's so sly whenever you have your pretty lips wrapped around his thick length, cooing gently as he strokes your hair. the fact that you gag so much while trying to fully take him down your throat, now having to accommodate to having your throat being fucked open by something so foreign and thick. he actually praises you quite a bit when you're sucking him off, and does so even more if you swallow up all of his cum when he finally reaches his peak. the sight of his cum thinly splattered around the corners of your mouth gets him hard again and ready to go once more.

𝙕𝙃𝙐 who favors fucking you while he's standing up, perfectly capable of holding up your weight and being able to bounce you on his thick length simultaneously. he enjoys the way you desperately claw at his back and cry out as you're unable to run away from the onslaught of pleasure, and the way you cry out as the position allows for the pleasure to be amplified, so each time he fucks up into you, it just turns your brain into mush. that and he just thinks you're so adorable clinging onto him in such a lewd manner.

he near loses it when he feels your fingers tugging on his long coffee-brown locksーthe stinging sensation just has heat pooling down south faster than he can even acknowledge it. it doesn't matter if he has his mouth latched onto your twitching sex, or if he's pounding into you like there's no tomorrow, he will go rougher. you can barely feel your legs afterward, and your vision is so blurry from the countless orgasms he wrenched out of you.

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Note

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted!

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #dr. reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #professor reid

987 notes · View notes

jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

Text

Spoiled Rotten /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Request: What if Overhaul fucks spoiled rich reader because her dad owes the yakuza money and in exchange Kai takes the daughter as a form of payment using her as his personal stress doll whenever and wherever he wants making her into his perfect little doll

A/N: While I was writing this my roommate asked if I was okay bc cause I kept stopping to fan myself and blush lmaooooo god I’m such a brat. I did change the concept up a bit, hope that’s fine!

This is dedicated not only to the OG requester but also to everyone who read the excerpt I posted a while back and told me they couldn’t wait to see the finished product!! Love you guys ❤️

Tags/warnings: threats, dubcon/coercion, dom/sub, brat taming, degradation, exhibitionism, restraints, mentions of forced prostitution, verbal & physical harassment, kidnapping, kinda breath play?, long

The first thing you notice when you come to are voices. Multiple people talking to each other, speech overlapping in patterns you can’t make out. They’re quiet—not whispering for your sake, but quiet because you’re still half knocked-out and you can barely hear.

The second thing you notice is the pounding in your head and the lingering smell of something sweet spread over your nose and mouth.

The third thing you notice is the fact that when you try to blink your eyes open, your lashes brush against something soft and dark. You’re blindfolded…and gagged, and your hands feel like they’re cuffed behind your back. From what you can sense around you, it seems like you’re hunched in a kneeling position with your cheek flattened against the floor and your bare feet tucked under your backside.

At least you’re still in your nightgown. You can feel the frilly silk of it, a useless barrier between your skin and the cool air, and it reminds you of how you got here in the first place.

A loud noise in the night. Your father’s voice pleading. A heavy thump. The door to your bedroom banging open and a strange man holding you down to your bed…lifting a sweet-smelling rag to your mouth…telling you to “take a deeeeep breath, princess.”

“Hey, I think she’s waking up.”

An invisible hand fists itself in your hair and you whine in pain as your upper body is lifted off the floor. Once you’re properly upright, you hear squeaking, shoes against concrete, and the heat and breath and presence of someone behind you. Something rustles at the back of your head—you’re too scared to move so you stay still—and then the blindfold is being lifted off your face.

Once it’s gone, you have to blink for a moment even despite the low light of the dingy room where you’ve…apparently…been kidnapped. By the freaking yakuza. And for some reason, they’re all wearing bird-beak masks.

You close your eyes, almost wishing they hadn’t taken the blindfold off. You’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance of how decidedly unclean the floor is. How dare they let your face touch it? What happened to honor among thieves?

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Against your will, your eyes flick up to the speaker. He’s the only one sitting, and somehow that gives him a position of power among the others. The leader?

Unsettling golden eyes rest on yours, and you realize he’s waiting for your answer, so you slowly move your head from side to side.

“Didn’t know about daddy’s bad habits, huh?” This time the person speaking is behind you, the one who untied your blindfold, a thin man with lank, greasy blond hair. He’s the one who drugged me, you remember in a surge of panic, and you try to stand up away from him only for him to step on the chain that connects your handcuffs, jerking you back and pinning you—painfully—to the floor.

“Careful, Setsuno. I told you not to leave marks. Let her talk.”

“Got it, boss.” The blond—Setsuno—fumbles at the back of your head and then he’s pulling the gag out of your mouth.

You open and close your mouth a few times to stretch out the stiff muscles. “Oh. My. God. Was that polyester you just took out of my mouth? Do you have any idea how bad synthetics are for sensitive skin? I’m totally going to break out.”

A hush falls over the little room. You could hear a pin drop.

“…Are you complaining about the quality of the fabric we gagged you with?” the leader asks after a second.

“You may be yakuza, but you don’t have to act like savages,” you reply primly, aligning your knees together and sending a proud look off to the side.

“Ohh…little princess deserves better, does she?” Setsuno coos. He edges closer to rub his cheek against yours and laughs when you cringe away from him. “Boss, you shoulda seen her bedroom. All pink and frilly, looked like royalty lived there. Bet they treat you like a real princess at home, huh? No wonder your daddy’s in debt.”

“Daddy isn’t—“

“Your father…took out loans from my gang. My men came last night to collect,” the leader says, drumming his fingers over the armrest of his chair impatiently.

He’s wearing plastic gloves. Why is he wearing plastic gloves? Immediately your mind is spinning, imagining all the different gruesome possibilities of what they’re going to do to you. “That’s ridiculous. My daddy doesn’t need to borrow money—“

“Clearly he does, because it looks like he pissed it all away on his daughter.” The leader’s eyes are cold enough to make you shiver—although maybe that’s just the icy temperature of the floor soaking through your nightgown.

“He had a couple payments overdue, so we stopped by to ask nicely for him to pay up,” Setsuno says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Didn’t find too many valuables in your house, but then we got our hands on a real treasure.”

“Don’t touch me—“

“You don’t seem to understand the position you’re in,” the leader says. “When I made my contract with your father, he understood that obligations like these are inherited. Since he can’t pay his debt, you’re going to be working it off in his place.”

Working it off? You swallow. Somehow you don’t think he’s talking about your little part-time job as a receptionist at your daddy’s company. “You can’t make me do that.”

“I’m not sure you’re getting the gist, princess,” Setsuno hums. “What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna put you in a room, and then men are gonna give us money, and then we’ll let those men fuck you. All that money’s gonna go toward paying what your daddy borrowed. Sound good?”

For the first time since you can remember, you’re shocked speechless. They’re going to…what? But you’re a quick thinker, and instead of letting these filthy, awful gangters boss you around, you raise your chin haughtily to look directly into the leader’s eyes. “I don’t think so. If Daddy’s the one who got himself in debt, you can make him whore himself out to pay it back. You can’t hold me responsible for something he’s done.”

Another brief silence, and then you hear a whistle echo out from the corner of the room (and you try not to look toward it, reminding yourself that this can only get worse if they know how scared you are). “She’s got a mouth on her, Overhaul,” someone says.

Overhaul. So the leader’s name is Overhaul. How ridiculous; it sounds like a villain’s name.

“Aww, princess,” Setsuno says, and once again his voice is too close for your comfort. “Little spoiled princess doesn’t know how to shut her mouth and suck it up when things don’t go her way? Well…you’ll learn.”

You don’t want to know what he’s talking about, although if you thought about it for more than a second it’d be obvious. You suck in a harsh breath and the cool, damp air stings against your dry throat. “You can’t just make me—“

“Ohh, I think we can. See, if your daddy’s been spending all of the Shie Hassaikai’s money on his precious daughter, don’t you think you owe a little too? Like, this dress—“ you jump as Setsuno’s hand tugs on the thin, floaty silk— “was bought with Overhaul’s money, so it belongs to him, right?”

You keep quiet, not wanting to prompt him to go further, but when his hands stroke up over your waist to grope your breasts in full view of everyone else in the room, you don’t really have to guess.

“And, y’know, your daddy’s been keeping you nice and healthy with Overhaul’s cash, making sure you grow up into such a pretty girl…” Setsuno’s voice is a purr in your ear as his hands squeeze your tits almost lovingly, then pinch your nipples through the fabric. “So hey—if you think about it, this tight little body…belongs to Overhaul too. Isn’t that right, sir?”

You squirm in place as best you can but with the metal cuffs digging into your wrists, there’s nothing you can do to get away from his touch. You’re desperate enough to shoot a terrified glance up at the leader—surely there are rules about treating an innocent girl like this, even for the yakuza—but he looks as unmoved as before. “Get her out of my sight. We’ll give her a rest for the next few days, and then…”

“No!” you yelp, too panicked to keep up the pretense of confidence. “I won’t, I can’t do that, please don’t make me—“

“Shhh. You’ll get used to it, princess. And if you don’t…” Setsuno’s hand combs though your hair and then trails down your neck, tracing the path of your spine between your shoulder blades. “…well, you won’t really have much of a choice, will you?”

And then he’s tugging on your cuffed hands, pulling you to a standing position, but you wriggle away from him and do everything you can to stay planted on the ground so they can’t take you away from here, away from the only man who is capable of stopping this. Overhaul. “Please! I’m— I can work it off another way! I’ll be useful— I’ll—“

Overhaul leans forward a fraction in his chair, and you wonder if you’ve caught his interest. “What, exactly? How do you think you can be useful to me?”

You bite your lip and wrack your brains, not knowing whether the question is rhetorical. What skills do you have that would be valuable to them? Suddenly all the knowledge you’ve gained in your short life seems so meaningless. You’re a decent receptionist (well, decent is a stretch), but if Overhaul wanted someone to answer calls for him you’re pretty sure he would’ve asked.

Why did you spend your life learning such impractical skills? The four-year weekend course you took on horseback riding jumps to mind and you want to hit your head against the wall. Why didn’t you ask your father to sponsor a class in something that would actually matter in the long run? And what would even be useful to these people? Accounting? Bookkeeping? Extortion?

There’s nothing valuable you can offer. You’ve wasted your life, and now you’re going to pay for it. Seriously, the only thing you’re actually good at is keeping your boyfriends (or, rather, the men you cycle through once a month) happy until the novelty wears off and you get bored and move on to the next lovesick target—

—wait. Keeping your boyfriends happy. That’s a skill, isn’t it?

Once, a little bit after you turned eighteen, you’d had a rather illicit conversation with one of your more sexually adventurous friends about being a sugar baby. Your friend had just secured a very generous benefactor, and you’d been so intrigued by all the designer purses and vacations to Cabo that you’d almost considered trying it for yourself. She’d even helped you set up a profile on Seeking Arrangements that listed your physical features and interests, but you’d blanched when it came time to post photos.

“But why do men even like this?” you'd asked your friend after your picture-less profile received its dozenth unsolicited offer. “Rich, successful guys shouldn’t have so much trouble finding girlfriends that they have to resort to paying for sex.”

“It’s a power trip,” she’d replied. “Most men never get the chance to have a woman who’s willing to do and be whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You’re his ideal girlfriend, his therapist, his wife, and his stress relief all in one.”

At the time, you’d decided against it, deleting your profile and telling your friend you’d rather just keep taking advantage of your real father doting on you than have to fake orgasms for rich men in their 50’s. But back then, you’d had a choice; now that you’ve been kidnapped by a gang who wants you to get fucked by a bevy of strangers to pay off a debt you’ve never even heard of, you no longer have the privilege of a way out. Or, at least, the options are a lot less appealing than before.

You tilt your head back to Overhaul, eyeing him for the first time with real scrutiny instead of prideful disgust. Judging from what you can see of his face under the ornate bird mask (and again, what is with the freaking bird masks?), he’s fairly young, mid-twenties at the oldest. Short, sort of wavy dark hair (you’ve always had a thing for dark hair), a trim suit and tie, and those eyes. Like he can read your mind just looking at you.

He’s…handsome enough, you have to admit to yourself. But it’s not just that. There’s something pristine about him, something untouchable that commands discipline. He’s clean. You and him are probably the only clean things in this hovel of a room.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Overhaul says.

And now that you’ve got the idea in your head, it’s almost too embarrassing to meet his gaze. But you can do this; you have to do this. At least it’ll be your choice, and—you’re hoping—it’ll be better than the alternative.

“I could be yours,” you tell him, taking pride in the fact that your voice isn’t breaking.

His eyes narrow and you think god, his eyelashes are long. It’s not fair. Men never appreciate having long eyelashes. What is he thinking? Is he going to kill you for even suggesting it? But it’s too late now…you have to dig yourself a little deeper if you don’t want to go through with their original plan for debt fulfillment.

You force your muscles to relax, knowing this’ll be impossible to pull off if you’re tense and biting down on the words like they’re going to choke you. If you’re going to make him believe it, you have to make yourself believe it too. “You… This job must be hard. Even for a—a powerful man like you, it has to be stressful, right? Always looking out for the interests of the gang instead of your own…needs.”

Overhaul doesn’t move, but you’re so focused on him it would be impossible for you to miss the way a single muscle in his neck flexes. You’ve hit a nerve.

You take a cautious step toward him, trying to channel the sexually-liberated vixen you consider yourself when you’re not in your nightgown surrounded by men who could murder you with their bare hands and not miss a minute of sleep. “You’re always giving, aren’t you? Looking toward the future of the gang? Doesn’t it get frustrating when—when a pretty thing is in front of you and you don’t even get…a little taste of her?”

Oh god, you can feel the humiliated heat rushing to your cheeks. How can you be saying this? You’ve played the role of seductress plenty of times before, but never in such a risky situation. You just have to keep moving toward him and hope it feels authentic enough to convince him.

“You’ve worked hard. And…like he said, my—my body belongs to you.” Now you’re close enough to Overhaul and he hasn’t stopped you, so you lower yourself onto the floor, knees bumping softly into the cold surface. Kneeling between his legs.

Overhaul stares down at you, gaze as sharp and cold as before—and you’re sick with anxiety, so scared you can feel your hairs raising up on end—but if he wanted you to stop, he would have said something, right? So you shuffle a little closer and nuzzle your cheek over the inside of his clothed thigh like a kitten, then raise your head up to him to give him your best bedroom look, the one that says, I want you. I need you. No one but you. The look no man has ever been able to resist.

“…You deserve something to yourself, sir,” you murmur.

There’s a collective intake of breath as every person in the room simultaneously realizes what you’re offering. Overhaul’s expression doesn’t change, but once again, a tendon jumps out white under the skin of his throat and there’s a creak of latex on leather as his grip on the arm of the chair tightens.

“Damn,” Setsuno says under his breath from behind you. Someone whistles. You’re pretty sure you hear the word ‘slut’ being tossed around, but there’s reverence behind it.

“And what makes you think you’re so valuable?” Overhaul asks.

You close your eyes to ground yourself for a second. He’s interested, you know that much. You’ve never really had to convince someone to want you, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you only have to look at him for a second to know he does want you, which isn’t a surprise. Who wouldn’t?

“I’ll do anything you want, be anything you want,” you tell him, echoing your conversation with your friend back then. “Take out your anger on me if that’s what you’re into. When you’re tired of me, you can consider my debt paid and let me go.”

“And?” he prompts.

‘And’? And what? You’re offering yourself to him, your body and your mind—what more can he possibly ask from you? You cast your thoughts around, wondering what else you have to give him. “And…and I’ll do it willingly. You, um—you look like a man who appreciates obedience.”

And that’s it. Your last shred of pride is gone. Not only are you offering yourself up to a man to use as his personal stress doll, you’re saying you’ll be compliant every step of the way. Knowing yourself, you’re pretty sure that’s impossible, but you just need to make him believe it long enough for you to find a way out of here. You can pretend to enjoy getting fucked by a gangster a few times. You’ll live.

But you’re naive. And with the stream of thoughts pushing through your head, you never really consider one thing, one essential thing: how you look pleading up at him in that pale pink nightdress—soft, pure, immaculate against the filth of the underworld, the only clean body that Overhaul’s seen in a long time.

And you’re right. He is a man who appreciates obedience.

“Willingly…so you’d be willing to prove it.”

Your head jerks up and down in response. Yes! He’s taking the bait, now I just have to get him alone and—

“Then demonstrate.”

When a moment passes and you don’t move, Overhaul tips his head to the side, gaze still locked on you, and gestures vaguely at his lap. You blink and then shy back, shrinking under the hungry gazes of the onlookers. “You can’t mean—in front of them?”

“And here I thought you were going to be obedient.” There’s no mercy, no amusement in his voice. No hint of humanity.

So he’s serious. He wants you to give him a blowjob in front of—how many? one, two three, four—four other men!? Your first instinct is to jump back away from him and your next is to slap him for even suggesting it; you can actually hear the jingle of your cuffs as you attempt to raise your hand. You’ve gotten a little kinky before—blindfolds, vibrators, maybe a hand tied to the bedpost with a Hermès scarf once or twice, but this is a whole different level. And the way they’re all looking at you…like they’re itching to see you brought down. How absolutely disgusting.

But Overhaul’s waiting for your answer, and you know full well that you’re not going to deny him.

“O-Of course.” You lean forward over the seat of the chair so your face is just inches from his lap. “Um. My hands...?”

They’re still cuffed behind you, but it seems like they’re going to stay that way when Overhaul gives a curt shake of his head. “Use your mouth.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. How are you supposed to—? Without your hands? It doesn’t even seem like he’s going to undo his pants for you. It’s like he wants to humiliate you…oh, wait. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s clear that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

You give him another doe-eyed glance, bidding him to at least undo his belt, but he remains unmoved. Bastard.

After aiming another glare at him (because as obedient as you’re attempting to be, you’ve never been good at concealing your emotions) you lean deeper in and take the stiff leather of his belt between your teeth, gently easing it out of the buckle and trying to ignore the mixture of earthy and metallic tastes it leaves on your tongue. It takes a few tries, but eventually you’ve got the tail of the belt out of the buckle and you pull your head back to guide the metal down until the belt is hanging open from its loops.

A rush of accomplishment surges through you when you get it open, and then you want to slap yourself. Accomplishment? From doing this with your mouth like an animal—like a dog? You can hear laughter and mocking encouragement from the men watching, but you steel yourself and dip back in to get Overhaul’s pants undone. The button is tricky, especially with your face nudging into the hard muscle of his abdomen through his shirt, but somehow you manage to tug the fabric slit over the button and then—delicately, delicately—clamp the zipper between your teeth and peel it downward.

“Oh, she’s good,” someone says from the background. Setsuno. You look up warily, but Overhaul’s eyes haven’t moved from you.

Now that you’ve got his pants open, you’re face to face (literally) with what you’re going to have to deal with. The outline of his cock is bulging the fabric of his boxers outward, and he’s not even half erect. You snatch a look back up at him—and damn it, you have to stop doing that, because every time you look into those golden eyes and that stupid bird mask you feel like a lamb looking at a bird of prey right before it snatches you from your safe little lamb-house in the meadow and—fuck, you just have to get on with it.

So you dip down and mouth over him through the fabric, spreading the flat of your tongue over the length of his thick cock. Your mouth feels like you’ve been eating cotton (probably because they drugged you earlier) but you force yourself to salivate, letting drool spill over your tongue and dampen his boxers. When you duck and spread your lips down on the place you can feel the tip stretching out, you know the friction must feel good, because despite the lack of even so much of a deep breath from the man above you, his cock is getting harder.

You nudge your mouth over the tent between Overhaul’s legs again, letting the heat of your breath wash over him—but when he doesn’t do anything, you pull back and blink up at his face. Does he expect you to get him off through his underwear? You could, but most of your moves depend on skin-to-skin contact. There’s no way you can get his cock out with your mouth like you undid his pants, so…what? “Are—are you going to take it out?”

Overhaul brings a gloved hand to his face to rub absently at one of the straps on his mask. “…Beg,” he tells you.

Your mouth drops open and you reel back from his lap like he asked you to lick the dirt off the floor. What!? He can’t seriously expect you to—to beg him to put his dick in your mouth when you’re clearly disgusted at the whole situation. When he doesn’t give any indication of retracting the statement, you can’t help the mocking sneer that forms over your face. “Please, sir,” you spit, and a deaf man could hear the spite in your voice.

Now, that gets a reaction. Overhaul’s eyes flash and you take a certain degree of pride back at the anger you’ve clearly inspired in him. But it’s extinguished as soon as you see it, and then he’s reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your head back and rubbing his thumb over your lower lip.

“I think you can do better than that, princess,” he says, and you can hear your own mocking tone reflected back in his voice. “Unless you’d like me to give my men a turn?”

This, more than anything, scares you. He must be able to feel the way your spine goes stiff, adrenaline rushing, your fight-or-flight instinct kicking in at the prospect of what he’s threatening.

“Each of them, one by one. Between the four of them, I think they could cure that smart mouth…although they might just break you in the process,” he continues, and then his thumb is pressing into your lip, into your mouth, and you loosen your jaw to let him in. You can taste the rubbery latex of his gloves and the other men mutter agreement, encouraging their leader to turn you over to them, and you want to cry.

But you hold the tears back. “Please, sir! Please, please may I s-suck your cock sir? Please!” Your voice is more terrified than obedient, but that’s probably what he’s into anyway. When he doesn’t say anything, you babble on, unwilling to let yourself get gangbanged by a group of men who could probably wreck your pussy in a single round. “Please, please, Mr.—Mr. Overhaul, um, boss? M-Master?”

“Sir will do just fine,” Overhaul says, apparently satisfied, and he pulls his hand away from your face to free his cock from his boxers.

You let out a hot sigh of relief and angle yourself back toward his lap so you can zero in on his cock (and, hopefully, do a little to block out how sickeningly degrading all of this is: how easy it is for him to threaten you; how he has all the power and you have none; how the men around you are goading you, taunting you and calling you things that should get their mouths washed out with soap). You can focus on this, and this, at least, you’re good at. You’ve always been good with your mouth.

It’s a nice dick, too, you have to admit to yourself as you stare at it. Perfect length, girth, and a thick, cut head that you know just by looking that you’re going to have to stretch your jaw to get around. All his hair is neatly trimmed and groomed, and he even smells good, clean and fresh like soap. You’ve never been in front of a dick that didn’t smell like day-old ball sweat, so this is a first. It’s got a nice upward curve, too, and there’s a bead of pearly precum oozing out of the tip. The kind of cock that’s made for penetrative orgasms—

No. Fuck. You cannot be thinking this. You cannot allow yourself to lust after a gang leader who thinks of you as little more than an interactive sex doll. A tingle of blood rushes to your cheeks as you feel wetness pool in your panties and you adjust your stance, shuffling your thighs apart under the pretense of getting closer and hoping Overhaul doesn’t notice.

If he notices, he does the merciful thing and keeps quiet (which makes you think he has no idea you’re feeling the way you’re feeling, because he’s probably never chosen to do the merciful thing in his life). He does, however, shift one of his knees farther apart to accommodate you as you crawl close enough to him to get your head all the way between his legs.

So now you’re staring up at that unfairly pretty cock and wondering how the fuck this is supposed to start, but—best just get on with it. Pretend it’s not him, pretend it’s…no, wait, pretend it is him, it is Overhaul, the same bastard who’s looking down at you like you’re trash, except pretend you’re in control. Because no matter how many orders he gives, once you’ve got his cock in his mouth he’ll have to be the weak one. Right?

Lightly, slowly, you trace the tip of your tongue in a wet path up the underside of his cock, sliding up from the hilt to caress every bulging vein with all the delicacy and accuracy of a surgeon. When you reach the tip, you flatten your tongue to curve it around that bulbous head and then slip it off, the suction providing a wet smacking sound as your skin leaves his.

The breath of his barely-heavier exhale ruffles your hair and you relish the knowledge that he’s getting impatient. Yes. The bastard can wait.

You kiss the tip of his cock, barely moving your lips around the slit, only enough to let your tongue flick out against the precum and gather the bitter liquid up in your mouth. And then—right when he’s getting annoyed, when you can tell by the tension in his body that he’s five seconds away from shoving your head down to fuck your face—you duck closer, relax your throat, and swallow.

Like a fucking python. Or so you’ve been told.

The exhale that escapes him isn’t light this time. You can almost hear the barest hint of a groan under his breath, but you’re more focused on holding down your gag reflex as you let that heavy cock hit the back of your throat. Once he’s all the way down (or at least as far as you can get him), you rock yourself back an inch and then take him deeper, forcing yourself to hold still so he can feel the walls of your throat convulse around him, sucking him in, dry-gagging on the mass that’s filling you up.

“Fuuuuck,” you hear someone whine, and it’s not even Overhaul. It’s one of the men watching, and you feel a perverse mixture of hatred and arrogance rise up in you.

Overhaul’s cock is too big for you to properly moan around it, but you give it a go anyway so he can feel the vibration of your voice through his skin. You’re rewarded with a tangible twitch with it sitting on your tongue, and—oh—your mouth is watering out of where you’re clenching down on him at the back of your throat.

Spittle slips out over your lower lip and onto your chin, but you ignore it in favor of jerking your head up and down in fractional strokes, trying your absolute best to get yourself down to his base but knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit anyway, not with how good your throat feels around what you’re capable of stuffing in.

What were you saying about ‘valuable’, sir? you think, and then you pull your head off his cock, so slow it’s almost cruel, sucking your cheeks in and hollowing out so those wet walls are rubbing up on every millimeter of his skin. When you reach the tip, you savor it, letting your tongue do the dirty work and looking up at him through your lash extensions before you release him with a nasty wet pop.

“Holy fuck, can I have her next?” one of the other men says, but you and Overhaul are too focused on each other to even look and see who’s talking.

His gaze is trained firmly down at you, and—no way, damn it—he looks bored, like he could be waiting in line at the DMV instead of getting sucked off by you, a girl who’s been complimented by every man she’s ever been with (including her first) on her bj technique. You know he’s feeling it—he can fake calm, but he can’t fake the way his cock’s throbbing under your tongue as you lick up the shaft. Still, now that you’ve got it in your head that Overhaul’s not going to make a sound, all you can think about is forcing him to moan. Let him look weak in front of all his little lackeys.

With renewed vigor, you lap up the length of Overhaul’s cock in sloppy dabs, leaving strings of saliva dripping off your mouth and his cock only to slurp them up, audibly, wiggling your tongue over the tip when you reach it. And that, that gets him, because you feel more than see the buck of his hips into your face as he hisses out a curse.

And—oh dear, maybe you shouldn’t have done that—because the next thing you feel is Overhaul looming forward over you, hand gripping the back of your head, and is he going to force you down? You hate that—so you take the initiative, tilting forward to take him into your mouth again, head bobbing up and down so quickly that your hair is falling all over your face, but it’s okay, because he’s got you, he’s got you, got his hands combed through your hair holding it out of your face, pulling so lightly it barely even hurts, but it does hurt, and he’s guiding you up and down on his cock and it’s hitting the back of your throat every time, and—and it hurts.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

“Take it deeper,” Overhaul instructs, almost encouraging, although you’re not given the option to pull off because he’s holding you down, pushing you firmly toward the base of his cock. You sputter around it, gagging, and you’re almost fucking choking, and he won’t let you up.

God, you’re not—not breathing, you can feel your throat choking down on him—“breathe through your nose,” he says, and this man, this villain has no idea what he’s fucking talking about, because you’re trying, eyes stinging and then you can feel tears down your cheeks. You try to squirm back on your knees, but somehow the combined force of every muscle in your body is outmatched by his single hand on the back of your head—and—and—you squeeze your eyes shut, relax, open your throat as much as you can and—

Overhaul forces your mouth down to the hilt.

Fuck, is he going to keep you there? You can’t, you can’t—if you could move, you’d be shaking your head and begging him to let you stop and as it is you’re whimpering around his cock. Your throat is making gagging noises and you’re crying, actually crying, actually fucking crying on a man’s dick. So this is what it feels like to be used?

“Good.” There’s something lower and darker in Overhaul’s voice, a husky undertone from the growl he’s trying to suppress. “Hold still…remember, you asked for this.”

You did. You asked for it. Begged for it. Pleaded.

“Want me to forgive your father’s debt…? You’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls out an inch just to ram himself back in. You make a weak attempt to move your tongue around his shaft and you can feel the shudder all the way through him, his cock twitching where it’s locked in your throat. “Mm…good girl. Just a little—little longer—“

His fingers are tightening in your hair, curling around the strands and tugging instead of just applying pressure to your head. He’s close, you think, and then you struggle back, not wanting him to cum down your throat, what if you choke on it? Like, really choke? You don’t want it, don’t want his cum in your stomach, but then he sighs and tells you again that you’re a good girl, and ohfuckohfuck you must be so scared you’re desperate for praise because you feel heat rush into your cheeks and your cunt when he says it and you try to move your tongue like you did earlier and his hips jerk forward and—he cums. In your mouth.

It’s salty, you think. The next thing you think is that you want to gag, because you’ve never had cum in your mouth before. For all your sexual experimentation, you’ve never let a man cum down your throat like this, always telling them it shoot it on your tits or whatever because you are not a person who should have semen in her mouth, much less ingest it.

But right now, with Overhaul lazily dragging your head up and down for a last couple pumps on his softening dick, your choice isn’t spit or swallow. It’s swallow or choke.

Hot. Thick. The texture is slimy, so viscous you can feel it going down your throat in strings. Part of you wants to throw up. It’s repulsive. Filthy. You hate this.

Part of you has to shift your position again so you don’t have to feel your own wetness slicking up the insides of your thighs.

How. Is. This. Possible. You may have just had to swallow your pride (and not just that), but what about your dignity? You’re a good person…okay, well, even if you’re not a ‘good person’ per se, you don’t hurt anyone with your selfishness. You don’t deserve to be kept as a pet by a sadistic bastard who gets off on watching you almost pass out on his cock, and you certainly don’t deserve the humiliation of finding that you’re turned on by it.

And yet. Here you are. Still held securely in place until Overhaul slides you off him. As soon as your mouth is free you suck in a dizzyingly deep breath, but even that is too much for your battered throat and the breath turns into a cough; you instinctively fold down away from Overhaul so the mixed saliva and cum you’re hacking out spatters in cloudy white flecks across the floor instead of on his clothing.

“Stop that,” Overhaul scolds, hauling you back up by your hair and forcing your mouth closed with a hand on your jaw. “If you make a mess, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Considering what he just made you do to him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s implying you’ll have to lick it off the floor. You clench your jaw, holding back the convulsions of your throat as best you can, and hope he doesn’t press the issue.

Now that you’ve got your coughing under control, you can start to sense things that you had been tuning out before: the men hooting and wolf-whistling and applauding your performance, the traitorously persistent throb of your clit pulsing under your panties, and Overhaul’s hand releasing your chin to pet down your neck. “Now. What do you say when someone gives you a meal?”

Just you wait, bastard. I’m going to tie you to your bed and set fire to it. But you’ve got the sense that that answer won’t go over well, so you take a deep breath and look up at him again, meeting those piercing gold eyes with your own. “Thank you, sir,” you say in a soft whisper because it’s all your abused throat can manage.

“That’s right.” His hands feel colder than the concrete under your legs as he spreads his hand down your neck, only to toy with one of the lacy pink straps of your nightdress. “Stand up.”

You stand shakily, too cowed to even consider stepping back from him. Without warning (much less permission), Overhaul lifts the hem of your stupidly short dress up past your thighs, exposing your panties and lower belly to view.

“Hold this in your mouth,” he says, and after only a few seconds of hesitation you open up and bite down on the fabric so you’re effectively holding up the skirt for him. Overhaul skims gloved hands down the sides of your hips and comes to a rest when he reaches your panties—and why did you have to wear these today? Shiny red satin in the front; the back is just flowers worked in crimson lace. You know exactly how good you look in these panties, and judging by the things Overhaul’s men are saying, they’re more than appreciative of the view.

But Overhaul ignores them in favor of hooking his fingers under the elastic and pulling the panties down until they’re resting stretched between your upper thighs. You don’t have to see them to know there’s a string of slick connecting the lips of your cunt to the fabric, betraying in full technicolor detail how turned on you’ve gotten just from sucking him off. He gazes down at your pussy and then up to you as if waiting for you to admit it, but you stay silent.

“Well, well. What a nicely-trained slut I’ve found myself.” He gracelessly pulls the panties the rest of the way down your legs and lets them fall to the ground. “Do you always get this wet when you let your boyfriends fuck that smart mouth?”

It takes you a second to comprehend that he’s expecting an answer. “N-No, sir,” you reply, voice muffled by the fabric you’re still holding between your teeth.

“I suppose I can’t leave you like this, not after you took me so nicely.”

Does he mean he’s going to get you off? No freaking way. You drop the hem of your dress, let it flutter down over your thighs, try to scramble back, but his hand on your waist keeps you from moving. “I— It’s okay, I don’t need—“

“No, I think you do. I think I’m going to reward my pet for a job well done.” He leans back, eyeing you without sympathy. “I’d have you touch yourself, but—“

The mere possibility that he might remove the handcuffs has you straining against them again, and the sound of metal against metal rings out from behind you.

“—but, I think it’s best to keep the cuffs on for a few days…until you’ve settled down.”

Days? He can’t leave you in chains for days, helpless and powerless, so easy to take advantage of. “You can’t,” you whimper, and even though you mean for it to be a decisive statement, with your throat ravaged and hoarse it’s downright pathetic. Overhaul doesn’t even bother reprimanding you for talking back.

“My men have been patient,” he muses, and an enthusiastic wave of agreement wells up from the others. “Any of them would be happy to do it.”

You may have been through a lot in the past hour alone, but there is no way you’re going to let those rowdy criminals have their way with you. You send a nervous glance around the room and as predicted, not a single one of them looks like they have the slightest shred of control over themselves.

None of them…except Overhaul.

Still eased back in his chair, he looks just as relaxed and unaffected as he did when he was explaining your father’s debts to you. But there’s something flickering in his eyes, something he isn’t going to say to you, isn’t going to say out loud. A challenge.

Maybe, once again, he’s waiting for you to ask for it yourself. And if it’s a choice between him and one of the grimy ruffians who’ve been looking at you like dogs look at meat, you know what you’d prefer. Well—really, you’d prefer option C: none of the above (your current state might be uncomfortable, but you’re not so wanton that you’d rather cum in front of strangers than keep your legs together). Unfortunately, you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that ‘no’ is no longer an option.

Overhaul’s stare flicks from you to an unseen figure behind you, and you can tell he’s about to summon one of them over so you force yourself to move, lurching forward and climbing into his lap to straddle one of his thighs with all the grace you’re capable of. You feel the stir in the air when he inhales sharply, surprised, and his masked face is so close to your neck that you wonder if he can smell the lotion you put on before you went to bed last night.

It’s one of your favorite scents: vanilla, lilac, orange blossoms. You bought it because it smelled pure.

“Please, sir, I don’t want them,” you breathe next to his ear, injecting every ounce of sexual frustration you’re feeling into the needy tones of your voice. “I’m yours. I belong to you, just you. No one else—please, sir…Overhaul.”

He’s quiet for a long, tense moment, and you think he’s going to hit you, or maybe even kill you for your disobedience. Push you off his lap at least. But just when you’re teetering on the edge of jumping back from him and begging for forgiveness for talking out of turn, you feel it—a low rumble of laughter from deep in his chest.

Big, cold hands wrap around the sides of your ribcage under your breasts and his fingernails dig into you through the layers of latex and fabric. He tilts forward, forcing you to arch away and all you can think about is how horribly weak you are compared to him. Are you trembling? Will he be angry if you feels how afraid you are?

“You know, I guess I’ll keep you after all,” he hums, stroking his fingers through your hair and down your neck. “How does that sound, princess? I think you’d like that very much, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” The response comes all too easily, even if the words taste bitter in your mouth. You’ve never said the word ‘sir’ so much in your life…but as he repositions you on his lap and slides a single hand up the inside of your thigh under your dress, you bite your lip and decide to hold back your protest.

If you’re going to have to learn manners, you’d better do it sooner rather than later. Something tells you Overhaul’s not going to accept any less than your best behavior if you want to pay off your debt.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagines #mha x reader #mha imagines #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut #tw dubcon

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whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years ago

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Alpha!Hybrid Au, SMUT, PWP, soft dom Yuta bc ur his baby, bestfriend!to lovers, arguing, pussy eating, jealousy, BREEDING KINK, unprotected sex (pls wrap ur willy), monster cock agenda

He's in trouble. The huge, colossal, has to hang his head in shame type of trouble. The worst part is that, he doesn't really feel bad about it, that kid had it coming and - fuck, no, he shouldn't think like that. But he can't fight the instinct, as hard as he tries.

"I'm so sorry, I really am I-" he stutters, trying to find the right words as you stomp away from him towards your room, continuing your maddening silent treatment that he knows only means he's really fucked up.

"I shouldn't have done...that, I know, I know." His voice is strained, desperate in his feat to prove his sincerity. It's nearly impossible to describe its magnitude when he has yet to admit how he really feels about you. It makes the whole situation that much worse.

"You...you actually growled at him, Yuta. Mark Lee. He's a friend of mine, a good friend! And you-" you've finally turned to face him, kicking your shoes off and slinging them to the nearest corner, your anger a tangible force. "you nearly scared him half to death!" You scold, still shivering at the thought.

He looks like a puppy whos just been reprimanded, no pun intended. He allows you to push past him to the kitchen, following behind you with urgent footsteps and continuing his pleads of understanding. This is eating at him in more ways than one.

"I couldn't help it, you know that-" you scoff, interrupting him while you turn to meet his wide, guilt ridden gaze.

"Don't give me that alpha bullshit." You know it's a low blow, probably the lowest you could muster but you're just so damn annoyed. He doesn't know what it's like to be a human so close to such a guttural sound as the one he used to establish dominance earlier tonight. It's like being next to a hellcat, the roar of an engine that reverberates throughout every bone in your body.

You'd been so shocked, so embarrassed for Mark that you hadn't even registered the fact that it licked such a hot flame inside of you, furthering your outburst and only igniting feelings that you shouldn't be having in the first place.

Your unrequited feelings for your best friend probably just add fuel to the fire, considering you're mostly angry at yourself for the way your body actually had the nerve to like the prospect of Yuta being jealous. You should be embarrassed.

"Hey, that’s not fair," He practically whines, losing his sanity with each passing second. "I'm not lying when I say that I couldn't help it." You know he's telling the truth, and he knows that he couldn't have fought it off even he wanted to.

He could smell Mark's change in scent whenever you laughed at one of his jokes, could see the way his eyes would linger on you whenever he thought no one could tell. It came to a head when the human boy actually had the audacity to slip an arm around you while in one of his laughing fits. The feeling was like a dam bursting, hot lava through his veins pushing the sound from within his chest.

You rip open the door of the fridge in search for a bottle of water, and he waits for your response, his heart pounding in his ears like thunder.

"He'll probably run for the hills next time he sees us, if he even wants to talk to me again at all considering the stunt you pulled-"

"Why is that such a bad thing?!" The words spill from his mouth like he hasn't got a choice, the truth so close to trickling off of his tongue. "He clearly has such an obvious, nauseating crush on you and actually thought he was being oblivious - he wanted his scent on you."

Yuta takes a step back, shoving his slim fingers into his raven hair before rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes, frustrated. Your heart suddenly thuds at an uneven pace in your chest, belly flipping wildly with a mixture of emotions.

Without even having to think about it you're stepping closer towards his trembling figure. He's got his fists clenched and you know his nails are likely digging into his palm, a habit formed from nervousness, or other emotions when they become too overwhelming for him.

"What are you even talking about, He doesn't-"

"Yes he does, I would know what it's like firsthand," surprisingly the words are easier to say than he previously thought, cathartic from the way he's held them in for so long. It's like once he starts he can't stop.

Your jaw has gone slack, body sweltering as you stare at him from a few feet away. He looks like he's holding on to the edge of ration, trying so desperately not to scare you away.

"I can barely think straight when I'm around you, it drives me crazy and that human - he was practically glowing from your presence alone and I couldn't stand it I- he doesn't even know what it's like to love you."

You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you, feet planted steady on the ground but somehow you feel like you're spinning. Your body feels like it's been lit like a live wire, his utter vulnerability and the sheer magnitude of the feelings swarming in his warm irises, spearing heat through your lower abdomen.

He looks pained, suddenly. More so than before and the need to reach out and touch him, to do something to soothe the agonized furrow between his sharp brows, feels borderline unbearable.

"I should go - fuck, I'm so sorry I'll leave I never should have even come tonight."

He's backing away further, nails still digging into the meat of his palms when your feet finally unthaw from shock, moving towards him before he can twist the doorknob.

It's like placing your hand on a heater, the temperature almost scalding. He's still shaking like a leaf in autumn, his breaths ragged and skin glossy.

He's still flinched away from you, as if scared to so much as glance up at you, and it feels like your chest is being cracked open.

"Don't leave, stop, okay?" The break in your voice catches his attention and suddenly his eyes are boring into yours, low and dark, riddled with too many emotions at once.

Your hands are suddenly grabbing his, much cooler than his scorching skin as you uncurl his fists. The crescent moons are already healing.

"You don't have to be sorry, I haven't been honest with you and I - I love you, too." You speak softly, bashfully almost as you pull him closer, stroking his cheek with the back of your knuckles. He feels as though he might combust.

"You...you do? Really?" He's dumbfounded, shaken from his core in a way that has him trembling in a different way all together. He steps closer and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, the heat radiating off of him in waves.

You reach out, moving his dark, disheveled hair from in front of his eyes, chills rising from your skin as he leans into your touch. He looks dazed, lost in everything you say. He's so beautiful up close, golden and silky and glowing. You squeeze your thighs together.

You don't miss the way he glances from your lips and back to your eyes, nostrils flared slightly as you nod back at him. You even forget how easy it is for him to sense your emotions, to know exactly what it is you're feeling.

"Say it again." The timbre of his voice has lowered substantially and it has your knees weak as you grasp onto his sturdy shoulders, his pink tongue darting out to wet his unfairly plump lips. You're the one with the fever now.

"I love you, Yuta. I love you."

He groans.

"Oblivious, so oblivious. Don't even know how fucked you have me, do you?" His hot fingertips graze the side of your neck and you press your chest against his, the surface of your lips barely skimming past one another, noses touching.

Finally, with a fleeting permissive gaze into your eyes, he closes the space, giving air to your lungs and dousing gasoline on the blaze.

All at once he's crashing against you, soft mouth feverish in the way he suckles your bottom lip, wet tongue lapping into your mouth. He swallows your petulant whine, shoving you as gently as he can against the kitchen counter, needing to keep you steady against something.

Your fingers grip handfuls of his hair as your pelvises meet, rubbing against the other with a roll of your hips. It's like a magnetic force, stronger than anything either of you has ever felt.

"Please, please." He begs sweetly. your hardened nipples rubbing him through his thin tee shirt, thigh suddenly hiked up around his narrow hips. You don't even have to ask what it is he wants, ready for any and everything he offers. It's like nothing else, kissing him like this, hearing the product of your effect on him. Your fantasies could never do him justice.

"Yes, Yuta." You reply through the desperate kisses he presses to your mouth, his forehead against yours, one hand locked at the nape of your neck. A sound a bit less menacing than the one that started this whole ordeal in the first place, vibrates through his chest and he's all too aware of the way it sends a satisfied tremor through your body.

"I've dreamt of this," he strains, as three dexterous fingers slip into the waistband of your bottoms, yanking them down at inhuman speed. Your gasp is against his cheek, before he's gone suddenly.

Not gone, in between your legs. You look down when you feel a hot puff of breath against the soiled patch in your underwear.

"so many nights I would cum to the thought of you, just so I could come over and not make a fool out of myself. Fuck, you have no idea."

His admittance has your thighs wavering as he pulls them apart, marveling at your clothed sex and running the tip of his slim index finger over your covered slit. He keeps you steady by the back of your knees.

He gazes up at you through the thick of his lashes, eyes topaz and thick with fog from the way your arousal has gotten him worked up. You can't believe this is actually happening.

"I- I do have an idea." He keeps his eyes on you while he mouths the innermost skin of your thighs, the feeling warm and ticklish, causing a whimper to fall from your lips.

"Tell me, baby, go ahead." Fuck, he still sounds so sweet despite the pure desire dripping from his tone. It's need in the rawest form. His teeth nip at your skin, softly, and it pushes the words from within tour throat.

"I've touched myself so many nights- to the thought of you and - ohhh, mmm," You throw your head back, muscles twitching as he places his mouth over the wet spot in your underwear, licking and sucking as if to torture himself. You feel the faintest prick of his nails against the back of your thighs before the feeling disappears, most likely him trying to stay centered.

"Yuta, please." You reach down, pushing his dark muss of hair away from his forehead, being driven mad by the way he's mouthing your pussy through such a thin layer of fabric. He's tempted to hear you beg some more, the sound unbearably sweet.

But he's too hungry for you to not only deny your pleasure, but also to deprive himself of such a delicacy. He all but rips the flimsy fabric from your lower half, lips parting with unbridled appetency from being so close to the sweetest source of honey.

He can't find it in himself to tease anymore, succumbing to his all consuming desire before you can gasp for the second time tonight.

It's heat, seering and wet and sloppy with the way he takes your clit into his mouth. The sounds are so raunchy, he's practically cooing against your sex while his thick pink tongue comes out to lap at your entrance.

If he weren't holding you up by the backs of your thighs you would have fallen straight to the floor by now, entire body fizzling with a burn that melts you to his touch.

"Mmm." He hums against your slit, dark lashes fanning against the highs of his cheekbones as he closes his eyes in bliss - nose pressed against your mound as while shakes his head back and forth. His plump lips - lips you've dreamt of being right where they are now, on your most sensitive of parts - suckle your folds before circling your swollen bud with the tip of his pink muscle. His wild hair tickles the inside of your thighs.

He's practically bursting from his jeans but he channels that energy elsewhere, cock throbbing angrily at it's neglect but he's too focused to care. He's wanted this for so long, never thought it possible. He always knew you smelled different around him, sweeter. He's not dumb. He knows the effect he has on you.

But now that he's sure, it's a whole different experience. You're dripping, barely able to hold yourself up as he eats you like a man starved. He kisses you as passionately as he did earlier, these lips just as soft and addicting as your others.

He takes his index and ring finger, spreading you open and licking at you with deliberate, indulgent stripes. The sight is too much to even witness, your best friend, your Yuta, heartbreakingly beautiful as he's always been. Except this time he's eating you out in the middle of your kitchen.

"Y-Yuta m'gonna - oohhh, fuck." He doesn't take this as a warning, he takes it as a challenge. You're not sure you can handle anymore, body on overdrive, spilling over with pheromones. This makes him all the more hungry, all the more enthusiastic.

After all, that is your bestfriend. Always going the extra mile for you, always there when you need him. His eyes open and he's peering up at you like you're the sun, strong hands wrapping around your soft hips and rocking your hips against his mouth.

You can all but read his expression, the urgency in which he wants you to fall apart. He coerces you with his penetrating gaze, and you wonder how you've held out from cumming this long.

All at once it hits you, a stroke of his skilled tongue while he moves you against it, making up for your lack of strength. The sound he lets out is close to a whimper, forcing your thighs open when they threaten to close around his head.

It's like having every single one of your nerve endings doused in pure euphoria, it fills you like a balloon and bursts into a thousand sparks. You're almost afraid he's not going to stop, that he's gonna lick you raw until he's kissing you again.

Your eyes are still closed shut from the magnitude of your orgasm, the taste of yourself suddenly on your tongue as his lips move against yours. Despite your state, you're quick to respond, spent but not completely satiated. Not when you know that this is really happening, that the line has already been crossed and more than that - he actually loves you back.

He's still holding you steady when your shaky hands paw at the waistband of his jeans, missing and stroking the firm appendage that's bulging out to the right.

He convulses, lurching against you before you're wrapped around his waist, being carried into another room you suppose but it doesn't take very long. Your back hits a bed and you realize he's carried you to your room.

So many nights spent with him here, binging countless shows that are really only entertaining because he's there to watch them with you, him letting you play with his hair and styling it every which way when you're bored and have nothing else to do.

But even bad nights as well. Nights where everything in the world felt so overwhelming, crying in his arms seemed like the only thing that could give you some sort of release. And he'd always be there, waiting and ready for you no matter what mood the day might have put you in.

You arch against him when he begins to mark your neck, right over your carotid artery, moving to the sensitive skin under your ear. You suddenly feel very alone in your nakedness and your patience is wearing thin, your eagerness to see him in all of his glory an emotion that you hadn't realized was so strong.

His chuckle is warm and familiar in your ear, his smile bright and provoking a strange surge of urgency to move through you when he hooks his finger onto the hem of his shirt and pulls it from his body.

You almost want to yell at him, to curse him for ever holding out on you this long. You've seen him shirtless before, he's spent the night and showered at your place plenty. It's just that, now, it's different. Completely different. And you're grateful for the way he allows you to marvel openly.

He's panting while your palms are placed on the lean, tanned planes of his body. From his shoulders to his chest down over his sides, you wish you could kiss every inch of him.

It's when your fingers pass the fine dark hair just under his navel that your eyes finally land upon the intimidating hard on he's sporting, his stare heavy as you go to to undo his button.

He helps you in pushing them down his thighs, before he places his forearms on either side of you, caging you against him while he kicks the garment off. Your hands wander any expanse of his brilliant skin as they can reach, and you know that he's basking in it.

Especially the way you breathe his name when his clothed cock nudges your naked center, reminding you that this is really happening and that he's going to be inside of you.

It's thrill, swirling in your belly, and as potent as pure adrenaline when your curiosity and desire overpowers your nerves and you cup him through his underwear. Your expression gives away your exact thoughts, the unabashed surprise and wonder at feeling him like this.

His eyes seem to darken even more, if possible, as he tongues the inside of his cheek, smug.

"You want it bad, don't you?" He taunts, this side of him making you feel whiny in the best of ways. It causes you to pulse around nothing, the way he peers down at you with such a cocky, avaricious expression.

"Yes, Yuta I want it bad," you wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the soft hairs there as you pull him down to your mouth. "Please fuck me, please."

He grunts, his hand cupping your jaw one second and gone the next. You feel his knuckles graze your pelvis between your bodies, and you realize he's taking his underwear off, the butterflies suddenly in your throat.

You feel it before you see it, bare and naked against you, that is.

It's big. Bigger than you expected, and you already suspected that with confidence like his, it was generous in size. He drags it through your folds, hugged between the softness of your lips, nose nudging your jaw.

"You're so beautiful....m'so lucky baby, so so lucky." He pants, your thighs tight around his torso, heels digging into his lower back. Your cheek is pressed against his hair and the scent of his shampoo calms your raging pulse, your heart is surely giving away just how much this is affecting you.

The tip of his dick grazes your entrance and you throb, bucking up against him in a manner that causes him to groan, further grinding his hips against you and allowing just the head to begin pushing into you - the easier portion of him to take at first - before he suddenly stills.

"Condom, fuck I didn't even think-"

You interrupt his pained admittance, the words spilling from your mouth before he can even finish, your senses overpowered.

"It's okay, just fuck me raw."

This has his body convulsing again, a guttural sound reverberating in his throat as one hand suddenly cups your face, like its as breakable as fine china and as delicate as a honeysuckle. The expression on his beautiful face has you pushing up against the head of his dick again, his jaw tight.

"Don't just say that, please," He fights back the urge to plunge into you all at once, honey eyes locked onto your half lidded gaze as you writhe underneath him. "such a dirty fuckin' mouth, do you really mean that, darling?"

You're nodding fervently but he needs an answer.

"Yes, I mean it I really mean it, Yuta." You whimper, and its the confirmation he needs to continue. Slowly but surely - only as to not hurt you - he's sliding into you, and the stretch is more overwhelming than you thought it'd be, nails digging into his skin.

He watches your expression the entire time, thumb stroking your face and lips kissing the swell of your cheek.

When he's finally bottomed out, the fullness makes it hard to move, though it's not much of a setback when he's being so caring and attentive, prepared to make you feel good.

"Are y-you okay? Does it hurt?" He stutters, expression laced with genuine concern as he swallows. You don't even pretend not to stare at his neck, his chest.

"Just...it's just a lot, you're so big," He stifles a gruff sound in the crook of your neck, your hand rubbing up and down the hot expanse of his smooth back. The discomfort doesn't last long when you're here with him like this. "you can move Yuta, move."

You don't mean to sound so pressing but your body feels touch starved, like you want more and more and more. That desire is fulfilled when he begins to drag himself out of you before pushing back in, clamping his teeth into his bottom lip as he does so.

He's not slow for very long though, not by a long shot. In between making out he's on his haunches, looking down at the sight before him, taking in the squelch of your wetness around his thick cock while you paw at his waist.

It's different, so different and so good. You're all but shell shocked, mouth agape while he rolls his hips into you. Every time he thrusts back into you you’re jolted, squeaking due the depths he's managing to hit.

"Oh baby, you're taking it so well. Knew you would, always knew you would." He's breathless, gripping onto your hips with fervour, kissing you sloppily.

Everything feels so vibrant with him, so visceral. You're barely able to speak coherently, and it's causing a stir within his belly that threatens to burst. You claw at his waist when he thrusts at a particular angle and you keen against him.

"Ooohhh,Yuta Yuta Yuta." You coo, face suddenly covered by your own hands as you feel tears welling in your eyes from the way his bulbous tip massages that spongey spot deep inside of you.

Between just a breath, you're on your stomach, the absence of his dick leaving you feeling all to empty just for a second, before he's plunging back inside.

You fist the sheets while you rock back against him, the sounds leaving his throat deep and resonant. You're not propped all the way up, he knows it might be too much for you like that right now but it's enough. Enough for the dirtiest thoughts and needs to boil inside his blood, to spill from his mouth. Like he can't even help it.

"Mmm, wanna fill you with my cum like this, have you dripping with it. Bet you'd look s-so pretty, fuck." He's dissapearing inside of you at a faster pace and you go limp, his strength too much to try and keep up with along with the fact that his admittance is leaving you even more fucked out than you were before.

"Y-Yes, want you to fill me up Yuta. Oohh!" You're sure his fingertips will leave bruises but you're too gone to think about it, not when he's suddenly got a hand around the back of your neck, front pressed against your back while he pumps himself into you.

"Yeah? Bet you'd like that, walking around being stuffed full. I want you all - shit - all to myself, get you big and swollen." He shudders against your neck when a ripple of pleasure has him momentarily reeling, pace sloppy and fierce. You're gripping onto the sheets for dear life.

"Fill me up, I want you to give me your babies. Want you and only you."

This provokes something inside of him that he hadn't ever thought really existed, at least not when it came to how he would feel in this particular situation. It's a carnal feeling, seeping down his spine and into his hips and has him pistoling into you too fast-

He keeps going as thick ropes of his cum fill you up, more abundantly than you thought possible. You can feel it, the warmth in your insides and even as it trickles out and down the back of your thighs. He kisses the cheek that isn't pressed against the mattress, still groaning while he pumps it into you.

And he doesn't stop.

His dick is still rock hard, covered in his release and your arousal alike and the glide is like silk, the sound loud and invasive and perfect. You're reaching back now, carding your hands through his hair and he senses your need to touch him.

Once again, it's a blur before you realize the position has changed. You're on top of him and his knees are locked underneath you, heels raised on the mattress while he takes you like this from below.

You openly adore him for a second, like this. He's glowing in his post orgasm state, ethereal in all forms. His broad lips are pursed, slightly parted and kiss bitten to a pretty plum shade. His high cheeks match, and his hazy eyes stare up at you with all the admiration in the world.

"You like when I fuck my cum into you like this baby? Gonna make an even bigger mess for me?" He says it so sweetly you feel like you might cry, everything far too much for a moment while you bury your face in the safety of his neck, the scent of his skin sweet and familiar.

All you can do is whine really, the wanton sound pathetic and weak and adorable in every sense. He wants to give you the world more, the moon and stars.

"That's it baby, I got you. You can let go for me, my sweet girl. Bet your little pussy just wants to cum so bad."

His strong arms wrap around your body and cage you to his figure when the pleasure finally overflows, wracking your body like an earthquake and leaving you unable to do anything other than bear it.

He kisses the side of your head, makes sure to circle his hips while you pant his name over and over in his ear, pussy clenching around him and fluttering wildly. He can hardly believe he's actually just gotten to make you fall apart, that he is the one who has you nearly in tears against his chest with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

He doesn't dare move. Even after a few minutes, you're still shaking and twitching, and he holds you all the while. It's more than perfect, it's everything. That might be dramatic for some but for him, for you, it's like finally coming home.

Because, it's been so long. So long since the moment you two first met, and since you realized that this person was not someone you could live without. For so long, it felt impossible to admit your feelings.

The risk of losing each other was too great, excruciating even.

But now that you're together, in the purest form there is, connected in the most intimate of ways, and he wishes that he would have told you sooner. You both do.

Never again. You'll never slip through each others fingers, ever again.

1K notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot

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ohhthereuare · 3 years ago

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Loved your tags on my norribeth post! I try to be nice bc willabeth is SO popular but I don’t like that ship 😭 I love seeing people salty about it in the wild bc I choose violence

then you've come to the right place 🔪🔪🔪

oh gosh oh gosh where do I even start

I completely agree with all of your points concerning norribeth even though I will fight for sparrabeth till my dying breath but I feel like arguments concerning both of these ships have a lot of common ground and most of them are rightfully pointed against willabeth

and since I have literally no-one to talk to about this and its been brewing inside me for y e a r s we're in for an essay

(of course I harbour no hate towards orlando's performance, he did a great job and it's not his fault his character is a whiny wimp most of the time)

even if they had ended the franchise on "the curse of the black pearl" willabeth's arc would have already been on thin ice. it made sense in a span of one movie and one story- the protagonist rescues and gets the girl, the girl sees something more in the protagonist and favourable circumstances let them be together in the end. except potc is more than just one movie and even that one movie was something more than that.

elizabeth may have been raised as a dame but she was never a damsel in distress therefor what william loved from the start was a false image of her. to his credit it was probably an imagine elizabeth herself believed in for a long time because she had no chance to prove herself wrong. he thought her proper. he thought her honourable. he thought her delicate and sweet and helpless. then we've got william who's just a simple blacksmith and as cute as he may seem, he's unattainable, with rough hands that know hard labour, with sweaty face and messy hair, and most importantly, he's somehow linked to pirates that elizabeth's secretly so entranced by. i'm not gonna go into too much unnecessary detail because we know how this story goes but i w i l l point out an important conclusion- this story is not at all what it seems. because will has never been a pirate and he will never be one. he may have ended up on a ship, may have been forced to work side by side with a real pirate, he may have even used his wicked methods in the course of the entire franchise but william turner is n o t a pirate. he only mimics one. and that's what enrages me so much about the ending of "at wit's end"- will has gotten a fate that he did not want, did not deserve, did not even appreciate. to him it turned out to be another responsibility that he had to take on himself, that he would dutifully follow. all he has wanted throughout these 3 movies was to save whoever he (mostly wrongly) thought needed saving at that time and he wanted to go home. he wanted to be done with it. he wanted to settle. he's never said a thing about a treasure, about a ship, about the sea, about freedom. at first it was a girl then it was his father. it was always an honourable goal and having reached one he was ready to sail back home and happily stay there. that's why the ending of "the curse of the black pearl" already feels spoiled, leaves a bad taste in my mouth. "a pirate" elizabeth says, while lovingly looking at will. no, sweetheart. never have been, never will be. you're in for a bitter surprise.

now, elizabeth. oh lord. never have been a truly proper lady, never will be. in the face of deadly danger she cannot handle a sword (yet) but she claws and bites her way out of a fight with whatever's at hand and she makes a deal with a deadly undead captain and she's ready to stab him with a kitchen knife, she's ready to kill this man before she even knows he cannot be killed. she may need a little help but she doesn't need to sit around and wait to be rescued. throughout the course of the first movie and then the second and then the third she becomes more and more vicious and at first she wants to be free of the corset then she wants to be with whomever she wants then she wants to sail to the horizon then she wants to become the goddamned pirate king and lead a fleet of these wobbly-legged, rum-soaked pirates against the east-trading company and also a very dangerous, damned lord of the underwater underworld. nothing ever seems enough to her. she thought she wanted, loved will because she thought he represented everything that she has always secretly craved- freedom and a little danger. william was neither of those things. i guess that's the biggest hidden plottwist of this franchise- elizabeth, expected to stay proper, doesn't, and william, not expected to stay a good, does. somehow they switch the roles of the archetypes they would normally be supposed to fullfill and that change was supposed to completely alter their previous motivations and goals.

and maybe she was too set on the topic of love to let herself let him go but their relationship surely felt the strain of their sudden differences. the whole of "dead man's chest" was elizabeth testing new grounds and desperately grasping at old ones and the whole of "at wit's end" was the heavy burden of disappointing discovery. they had very little in common. they couldn't trust each other anymore. they wanted very different lives and were willing to do different things to achieve them and the only thing keeping them together was "love" but at one point it became just a word, a new name for a habit fading away. hell the whole of "dead man's chest" was elizabeth redefining the word love into lust as you have rightly pointed out in your post. would they have gotten married had it not been for the burning need to just jump each other's bones? or more accurently, to jump anybody's bones for that matter?

i feel like elizabeth ending up with norrington or jack would have made a lot of sense for her character arc, both for very different and quite opposite reasons. norrington would have been the anchor keeping her morals safe and jack would have been the wind in her sails steering her towards the wilder, more chaotic, pirate side of her nature (peas in a pod, darling). both men saw her for what she truly was- strong, fearless, unyealding. will saw her for who she was in his mind and in the end that was who she was forced to become- a housewife bound to land, destined to tend to the treasure of her not-pirate husband that got to sail to the horizon. but at least she got to get married, right? 🙂

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #elizabeth swann #sparrabeth #pssst if you wanna get into lengthy discussions about this further i am IN #norribeth

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

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I can't stress enough 'wows' in tve way you write along with the fact that it's you first few posts (i think? Pls correct me) can you do luci mammon and satan with a reader who takes naps bc of overthinking? They just tug their sleeves and shot them a tired look, while looking down shying away. Also, have a nice day and take the time to be yourself!

Aw thanks fam! I am fairly new to posting my works, I tried twice before this with two different writing blogs but I deleted them both bc I felt discouraged. I’m older now and I feel a lot better about my writing, so third time the charm and all that lol! I’m so glad you like my writing! I know I need some work on grammar and expanding my vocabulary.

This was a super cute prompt ;.; I hope I did it justice!

Lucifer

He is a mix of jealous and pissed. He wishes he could fall asleep so easily when he gets inundated with too many things at once. But also- just don’t do that? Where were your manners?

He starts noticing your little peculiarity in class. Specifically that you tend to nod off in advance alchemy and rune scripting. You were being so studious, jotting down notes, ask great questions. Next thing he knows you're out like a light.

He is shocked for a moment before he will wake you up. Your wide doe-eyed frown does nothing to him. JK his hearts clench at your wounded look.

He makes the other brothers report to him about your behavior and odd sleep habit. Were you ill? Was this just something humans did? Devils, was Belphie rubbing off on you?

They all say the same thing. One moment you are working hard or talking to them about a topic you are passionate about, and the next you are yawning hard enough to pop your jaw and shyly asking to lay down.

Well-he can’t have that.

If you are going to fall asleep around anyone it’s going to be him.

He sets up remedial lessons with you after dinner to make up for the work slept through. You sit by him at his long ornate desk while he tutors you on what you missed.

You weren't having any problems, you even finished a few pages. He is proud and then-

“I can almost hear those gears slowing my dear.” Lucifer interrupts himself mid-explanation of Zosimos of Panopolis and Maria the Prophetess's theories of alchemy in human medicine.

You jerk awake and turn to him blinking owlishly. "Yeah, I just need to lay down." You admit.

Lucifer eyes you critically. This was sudden, were you ill? You had been fine moments ago, bright-eyed and enthusiastic. He cups your face, turning it from side to side. "So suddenly? We haven't even discussed the properties of mercury yet." You hum letting your eyes droop. He was always so warm.

"Hour nap break? Please?" His stern gaze softens at how your nose scrunches up cutely as you yawn.

“Very well.” He relents letting you slick over to his couch. You flop over face first with a grunt of satisfaction. You toss and turn for a while, moving his pillows around unsatisfied.

“Luci-” You call in defeat. He ignores you at first. If you wanted to nap fine, he would get some work done in the meantime. “Luci~” You say again. You could see his brow twitching. “Lu-”

“My dear,” He shoots you a withering look. “You are treading a thin line. If you have the energy to call for me you have the energy to study.” You say nothing at his brisk tone, instead of opening your arms to him to join you. “You tempt me.” He purrs hiding his smile behind his paperwork.

“Learned from the best.” Lucifer shakes his head laughing at your smug reply. He glances over you to his grandfather clock. Hmmm-perhaps he could spare a few minutes. He rises elegantly discarding his tie and waistcoat to his abandoned chair. Running a hand through his hair he snorts at your little whistle.

“Move.” He commands. You shake your head patting your belly. “I will crush you.” He laughs but lays over you regardless.

“Good-you’re warm.” You say muffled in his shirt. Wrapping your arms around his middle you drift off. Lucifer holds you close, running a still gloved hand up and down your side. Perhaps he should bring out some more complex topics next time. If this was the outcome-

Mammon

He noticed you get drowsy before in class. Your cute little head jerks as you nod off, hands rubbing at your face as you fight to stay awake before giving in to the need to sleep. It was adorable- not that he was watching you because of that! He was just doing his job of looking out for you

Ye-that was all.

Honestly, he thought you were just like him. He never cared for the books being forced on him in class. Boring useless crap in his opinion. He much rather sleep through a lecture on stats too.

Now books on photography? That's where it's at. He has a legitimate passion for it.

He likes being behind the camera just as much as he likes being in front of it. Though he doesn't snap photos often.

He doesn't need more beratement from his brothers than he already gets. Sides, he just feels like they would look down at this like everything else he does.

He'll share his hobby with you though. You at least seem interested in it. He'll show you his collection of vintage to high-tech cameras and talk your ear off about the makes, models, and features.

You nod along and ask questions from time to time, smiling along with Mammon while he prattles on about color theory next to you on the floor.

He was just getting to Auguste Lumiére when he feels a gentle bump on his shoulder.

"O-oi!" Mammon starts, shaking his shoulder to rouse you. You look up at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes. "Was...was I that boring?" He deflates a little, all previous excitement gone in a flash. You had seemed so interested...

"What? Oh, no. No Mammon I'm sorry. It's really all fascinating," You grab for his sleeve so he couldn't run away. "It was just a lot of information all at once. I just got a bit overwhelmed."

"So you fall asleep?" He raises a brow not believing you for a second. Who falls asleep when something is interesting? He'll admit he's fallen asleep while listening to Levi talk about a new anime or Asmo with a make-up release. But that's because it had been boring. "Is that like a human thing?"

You shrug snuggling closer. "I don't know- but it's a me thing. Give me five? I'd love to hear you talk more about your collection, promise."

Mammon glows scarlet at your words. "Of course you do!" He puffs out his chest excitedly. “I got great taste.” You nod into his shirt before drifting off again. He tilts his head slightly to look at you chuckling internally when your breathing and heartbeat slow down. Damn, out in seconds. Well, better get comfortable.

Uncrossing his long legs he picks up the camera he had been showing you. The old Polaroid lens reflects his face back at him. He remembered the day Land had debuted this marvel of engineering. He just had had to get his hands on one. It was useless now, he had much better quality cameras than this old thing, but he remembered you reminiscing about your human friends and their portable camera. Would you take some pictures with him too? He would take one now, but the sound of the flash would definitely wake you up.

He fiddles with it for a few more minutes, opening and closing the film canister and checking for any parts that needed fixing as he waits. You stir at his side a few minutes later with a little mew of satisfaction. Mammon hears your joints creak and pop as you stretch. "Morning." He says sarcastically, earning himself a light punch to his shoulder. "Ready to continue?"

You nod eagerly, perky and aware. At least for the moment.

Satan

He didn't really notice at first the pattern of your behavior.

You would come over for book club. Which was really just him reading his current novel and you picking something at random to gain a little random knowledge.

You would find a comfortable position on his bed, curl up nice and small and read. Then after a bit yawn and start to snooze.

He first thought it was the atmosphere of his room. It was quiet, warm, and the sound of flickering candles and the rustle of paper sometimes caused him to doze too.

But when it starts happening outside of class he notices.

Hmmm….this is new.

He looks it up in his human anatomy books and finds nothing.

He's not particularly worried about you per se. You always bounce back quickly after a quick snooze.

Then you start dozing when he is talking… >:(

Like his brother/dad he is a little miffed at first but then your behavior reminds him a cat and he loves you 10x harder now

Satan stops in his pacing of the back gardens. His book of poetry hanging limply in his hand. He had been reciting some of the most fascinating lines of work from Lord Byron's later works and wanted a human's perspective. He had thought you were interested. You never complained before when he asked you out here. Perhaps you were just being polite all those times before. Anything to soothe wrath. He snaps his book shut sharply, take some perverse satisfaction in the way you start out of your light sleep at the noise.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask wiping at your face.

"No point talking to someone that doesn't wish to listen." He snaps tersely.

"Oh-Satan, no I was listening. It...it just got to be so much so fast." You flush. “You had some great points going, I just needed a minute.” He watches your eyes grow heavy again, and it dawns on him.

"Do you just sleep when overwhelmed?" He asks incredulously. In all his years with humans, this was new. You shrug making grabby hands for him to move closer. He scoffs but moves into your space. You grab at the hem of his shirt and pull him down to sit next to you. He goes willingly getting comfortable by your side. You eye his lap longingly, hands clutching around his coat sleeve. “Fine-” He rolls his eyes. “Come here you odd thing.” You smile in triumph and crawl into his lap. Once settled you nuzzle into his warm chest.

“Wake me up in ten? I want to hear more about your conversations with Byron.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He kisses the top of your forehead, opening his book to read again with one hand. You hum at his soft kiss, returning it sleepily with one of your own before passing out again. Ten minutes go by in an instant and Satan looks down at your peaceful face. He smiles to himself, perhaps he’ll let you sleep for a little while longer. You’d need it for his next point.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me prompts #cute!

147 notes · View notes

unholyimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Fucking Your Problem

Drew Starkey x Reader

Summary; Part II of Your Fucking Problem

(that’s all you get for a summary bc i don’t wanna spoil it, tho the warnings might give it away)

Warnings; cursing, teasing, fighting, spanking, choking, slapping, dirty talk, fingering, sex toys, i really went for it with this one

A/N; hehe see what i did with the title lol okay i got some serious 365 dni vibes writing this and the song from it (you know which one) kept playing in my head so i had to include the movie somehow (you’ll see) — also i wanna thank you all for all the love you gave the first one, i really hope you like this one too!! gif from google (is it yours?)

“After all the shit you said tonight, you’re gonna have to beg for it, baby”.

And you begged, for two days straight.

Drew had pulled himself away from you the second you both heard the front door opening, Rudy and Chase walking in, and acted like nothing had happened, leaving you more sexually frustrated than ever before.

And after that, all you did was beg. Beg for him to touch you, to give you the satisfaction you craved so much, to even just kiss you, but he never gave any of those. Instead, he watched and enjoyed as he had you squirming for him, whispering dirty things to you and suggesting to fulfill your fantasies, building up the anticipation until he was ready to give it to you, knowing he had control of the situation and trust me, he was living for it.

The shooting for OBX season 2 was starting in a day and you were dreading it, knowing your character had scenes with Drew’s, and you weren’t sure if you could handle it all, no matter how much of a professional you were.

But surprisingly, they had gone better than you thought, Drew keeping it all professional and not even bothering to stay with you after you were done with your scenes.

The boy was really getting to you, in more ways than one.

Contemplating on whether to go find him or not, you didn’t have time to think about it when Rudy had caught your wrist and pulled you to the set of the Château to watch him and JD film a scene.

Standing alone at the sidelines of the area, you kept quiet when the cameras started rolling, not wanting to bother the sound guy in any way.

Feeling completely lost in the amazing acting skills of your new friends, you almost let out an audible gasp when you felt a body press against your back, two hands finding their way down to hold your waist.

“Don’t turn around, and don’t make a sound”, Drew whispered to you, keeping you in place to not alert anyone.

His fingers started brushing over the waistband of your bikini bottoms, occasionally dipping in just below the edge and you felt the wetness pool between your legs immediately, thanks to his constant teasing for the past days.

“Drew”, you moaned as quiet as you could, begging him for more without words, not caring you were out in public.

“What the fuck did I literally just tell you?”, he snapped at you, his other hand coming up to squeeze your throat, making your breathing uneven.

He had learned by now how much of a sucker you were for choking.

The hand that held your throat, let go of its grip and started to slowly make its way down your front, fingers brushing over your chest and down to your stomach, leaving your skin shivering under his touch since you were wearing only a bikini top, due to it being your character’s outfit.

Finally reaching back to your bikini bottoms, he kept stroking the waistband, fingers disappearing deeper into the fabric each time.

You were sure you were already soaking through the fabric, so you whimpered quietly, notifying him of your desperate state.

“What is it, Y/N?”, he cooed into your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Please, Drew, I can’t do this anymore”, you confessed, hoping he would just finally give it to you.

“Oh c’mon, we’re just having fun”, he chuckled darkly, still keeping his voice down.

“Drew”, you whined, pressing your legs together to create some kind of friction, but Drew was quick to pull your legs apart.

“No, Y/N, that’s not how this works”, you didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

So you stayed quiet and let his hands wander around your lower half, never actually touching where you needed him the most.

“You know—I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one would notice”, he told you in a hushed tone, your body jolting slightly at the excitement of him finally touching you, but also the thought of doing it in public.

Your reaction caused a low chuckle from him and right after, you felt his other hand reach down to your core, not touching it, just lightly tugging the edge of your bikini above it.

And then heard the director yell ‘cut’ and felt his hands leave you.

Taking this as your chance to scold Drew for making you feel like this almost in front of your boss, you took a deep breath and turned around.

Only to find him—gone.

Once again, he had left you all hot and bothered and nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, Y/N! What did you think? I think we nailed it!”, Rudy’s voice scared you since you had forgotten why you were standing there in the first place, trying to look normal when he came running towards you.

“Y—yeah, it was great”, you lied, not having any idea how the rest of the scene had actually went.

“I know, right? Anyway, since that was the last scene of today, we’re gonna throw a small get together to celebrate the first day of filming, so let’s go home and get ready”, Rudy smiled, his hands pulling you loosely from your waist to leave with him, and his touch wasn’t helping you, but you pushed it out of your mind, no matter how much you craved for any touch right now.

Four hours later, you were spread out on a couch in Rudy’s and Chase’s apartment, laughing at a stupid joke Chase had made.

“Hey Y/N, care to join me for a smoke?”, Drew interrupted your laughing, your face turning serious.

Ever since the night of your fight, you hadn’t told any of your friends what had happened, keeping up the facade of you two not being really friends, so him asking you to join him, made you wonder, or maybe you were just overthinking?

“Uhh—yeah, sure”, you quickly got up, trying to avoid any questions from your cast mates, but Chase was faster.

“Since when do you two get along?”, he chuckled, grabbing everyone’s attention as they were staring you down, waiting for your answer.

“We always have, what are you talking about?”, Drew joked, pulling you out with him before anyone had a chance to question him.

The cold night air hit you like a truck, shivering immediately since you only had a thin dress on.

“Cold?”, Drew simply questioned before pulling a cigarette between his lips.

“No”, you stubbornly told him, not knowing why you lied.

“Always so stubborn, Y/N”, he chuckled, a sudden feeling of anger rising in you.

“Why did you want me here?”, you frowned at him, quickly lighting up your own cigarette.

“Why not? You’re the only one that smokes and I wanted some company”, he explained, but you didn’t believe there wasn’t an ulterior motive behind it.

“Oh, yeah? So you didn’t want me here so you could tease and torment me again?”, you deadpanned, still not being actual friends with him and kind of enjoying the small fights between you two.

“Sorry, princess, guess you don’t always get what you want”, Drew didn’t hold back the smirk that was now spreading on his face.

You stared at him for a minute, scanning his face, trying to find a way to crack him.

“Why won’t you give me what I want?”, you asked, finishing your cigarette.

“And what is it that you want, Y/N?”, he replied, doing the same.

“Are you serious? You know exactly what I want! I’ve literally been begging you, just like you wanted!”, you exclaimed out in frustration, knowing he was just doing it to annoy you on purpose, but all the pent up emotions starting to get overwhelming.

“Exactly, because you’re gonna keep doing exactly what I want, aren’t you?”, he growled, stepping towards you, backing you into a wall until your back was against it.

“Drew—I, uh”, you stuttered, the closeness of his face clouding your mind as he placed his hands on the wall around your head, his face lowering to eye level with you.

“Say it”, he demanded in a low voice and you felt yourself melt before him.

“I’ll do whatever you want, Drew”, you confessed, knowing it was a hundred percent true, you were practically a slut for him now, agreeing to do anything he asked so you would finally get what you had been longing for.

“Good girl”, he purred to you, his face inching closer to yours and you felt your body shiver.

He was so close, you could feel his breath against your lips and then noticed him pausing when your lips were just barely touching.

You hadn’t realized you had closed your eyes so you opened them, to see him staring deeply into yours already, but he didn’t utter out a word.

“Just kiss me, I can’t take this anymore”, you pleaded, hoping he would just forget about his stupid power play and give in.

And right then, you heard your friends yelling inside, calling your name to get back in, ending your moment with Drew.

You hoped for a second that he would ignore them and just close the space between your lips, but he still didn’t move.

You sighed in defeat, pulling yourself away from him to turn around and go back in since the door was right next to you, but then felt him grab you by the back of you neck, pulling you back even closer to him than before.

Your breath got caught in your throat, waiting for it to happen.

“I don’t like it when you try to walk away from me”, he growled at you and you felt his lips lightly brush against yours when he spoke.

“I’m—I’m sorry”, was all you could muster out, not really knowing why you were apologizing, but it seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.

“Don’t make it into a habit”, he finished, letting go of your neck and walking inside.

Leaving you stunned, you watched as he sat down on the couches with everyone, acting like nothing had happened and your mind was going wild.

What was this boy doing to you?

Collecting yourself after another quick stress cigarette, you practically ran back inside as you had forgotten how cold it was, the heat from Drew making you forget, you noticed how everyone had quieted down and the lights were off.

“What’s happening?”, you frowned.

“We’re watching a movie”, JD explained and you eyed around the room to find the only free spot, of course, next to Drew, on the small couch that barely fit two people.

“Great, what are we watching?”, you asked, making your way awkwardly to sit next to Drew.

“Maddie’s been bugging me to watch 365 days, so here we are”, Chase told you, earning a slap from Madelyn.

“It’s basically just porn”, you spoke before your brain could register what you had said.

“Oh, is it now? So, you’ve already watched it?”, Rudy wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“I mean—yeah, everyone was talking about it”, you tried to shrug it off, feeling how Drew’s eyes were burning at the back of your skull.

Halfway through the movie, you had noticed Drew shuffling around uncomfortably, making you smirk to yourself. You were kind of desensitized to the sex scenes since you had already seen it, but imagining Drew doing all the things to you, was not helping you keep calm.

So when you felt his hand grab yours, you turned your head to see him watching you with a serious look.

He started pulling your hand towards him, silently and slowly, making sure everyone else was still paying attention to the screen as you were kind of sat behind them.

“What are you doing?”, you mouthed to him, but didn’t get any answer, but got the idea when he lifted the waistband of his boxers, sliding your hand in until you felt your fingers graze over his hardened length.

A rush of emotions went through you, mostly excitement before you felt him pull his own hand out, leaving yours in and then pressing your hand down on top of his pants with his own, making you fully grab him in your hand. Your body felt like it was suddenly tingling, trying to believe this was actually happening.

You saw him take a sharp breath when you had him tightly in your grip and now it was your time to tease him. You knew he was expecting you to instantly start working on him, but you wanted him to suffer, just like you had.

So you, did nothing.

Simply turned your eyes to the screen, still holding him in your hand, but not moving it even an inch.

“Y/N”, Drew growled, the movie having a loud scene so he could speak without anyone hearing him.

“What?”, you smiled at him innocently.

”Move—your—hand”, he demanded, pausing between every word to make it clear as day, but you only smiled at him.

“Why?”, you cooed innocently.

Expecting him to just sigh in defeat, you definitely didn’t expect your head to snap back when his free hand was in your hair, yanking it back.

You somehow managed to quiet the gasp that escaped past your lips, only to feel his mouth next to your ear, once again.

“Don’t fucking start with me, or I swear I’ll make sure you’re wet for the next month without ever getting the satisfaction of cumming”, he spoke lowly, sending shivers down your spine.

Blinking rapidly for a moment to make sure you heard him right, it was enough for you to start moving your hand, slowly, making him know you had some control, or at least thought you had.

When The Boat Scene was starting on the screen from the movie and the song I See Red began, you felt yourself getting more and more excited, pumping your hand on Drew faster, watching as the couple on screen had sex all over the yacht.

Quiet, barely audible moans and grunts started falling from Drew’s lips made you turn your head to him, seeing how his head was leaning back on the couch, his eyes closed.

The sight only, made you feel butterflies in your stomach, your legs involuntarily pressing together.

You thought about just pulling him out of his pants and taking him in your mouth, but fought against the thought since all of your friends were in the same room.

“Drew, I need you”, you whispered to him, pumping ever faster to show him how much you wanted him.

“I know”, he chuckled before pulling your hand out, making you frown in confusion.

He checked quickly to make sure no one was watching you before placing his hands on either sides of your face, pulling you close.

“Tell me what you want”, he rasped with serious eyes.

“Drew”, you whined, knowing he knew exactly what you wanted, biting your lips in the process.

“Don’t do that”, he suddenly snapped, watching your teeth pull back your bottom lip.

“What?”, you asked, not understanding why and repeating the action.

“Bite your lip one more time, I dare you”, he clarified and you couldn’t help yourself but to do just that.

“That’s it”, he told you, getting up from the couch, catching everyone attention.

“I gotta go, I’ll be back later”, he told everyone before simply leaving.

No one seemed to notice you as you sat there, more confused now that ever.

Did you really make to wrong move? Was he actually angry?

You sat alone on the couch, the movie quickly ending but you hadn’t really paid any attention to it, your mind too occupied with Drew.

“Anyone up for drinks?”, Rudy loudly asked, people getting up and turning the lights back on.

“Yes, please”, you sighed, following him to the kitchen.

Before you could even get the glasses, Rudy’s phone went off.

“Hey—yeah, sure—okay, bye”, the call ended quickly and Rudy turned to you.

“Drew needs you at his apartment, he said it was urgent”, he told you, motioning towards the door as he seemed slightly worried.

“Oh—okay”, you faked a smile before quickly taking off, opening the front door before anyone else took notice.

Walking literally two steps forward, you knocked at the door in front of you since Drew lived just the opposite of Chase and Rudy.

Merely a second later, the door flew open and you felt yourself getting pulled in, the door slamming close behind you.

“Drew—what, uh, what’s happening?”, you frowned, trying to look around the apartment since it was actually your first time being there, but you didn’t really have any time when you were again, pulled, into his bedroom and thrown onto the bed.

Landing on your front, you rolled around on your back and were instantly faced with Drew’s lips on yours, his body hovering over you.

Not wanting anything to interrupt what you had waited for so long, you lifted your hands up to grab his hair, making sure he kept close and didn’t leave you again.

While his other hand kept him up, the other started gripping your waist roughly, his touch needy and desperate.

“Drew, please”, you begged one last time, with swollen lips, between kisses.

“Up”, he commanded and you happily obliged.

“Strip, now”, he continued, standing in front of you, eyeing you from head to toe, making you feel slightly intimidated.

You lifted your hands to slowly pull down to straps of your dress, tugging it down to your chest, breathing heavily as you were getting ready to reveal yourself to him fully.

The dress slipped down past your chest, your nipples hardening as you watched Drew’s eyes glued to them, not wearing a bra.

Finally letting go of the fabric completely, you stood before him, only in your g string, waiting for him to say or do anything.

He lifted an eyebrow at you, his eyes now looking at your underwear and you began pulling them off, your fingers going underneath the thin waistband.

“This is taking too long”, he suddenly said, pushing you back until your feet hit the edge of the bed and you fell on it.

You watched him take the tiny piece of fabric between his fingers and pull up, not down, but up.

“What are you—“, you gasped when you felt the waistband snap before he removed the fabric completely.

“Did you just—break my favorite underwear?”, you asked in slight disbelief.

“Yes, is that a problem?”, he stared you down, making you feel more intimated than before.

“N—no”, you cowarded, giving up any control you thought you had with one word.

“Thought so. Now, give me your hands”, he said and you did, before he pulled your body up on the bed and pinned your wrists down with one hand.

You didn’t look up until you felt something cold and hard against your skin, realizing he was handcuffing you to the bed frame.

A hot wave of excitement went through your body at this.

“Close your eyes and keep them closed”, he told you quietly before you felt his fingertips brushing over your collarbones, making their way down to your chest.

You didn’t want to close your eyes, you wanted to see everything he was about to do to you, but he stopped his movements when he saw your eyes still open, so you reluctantly closed them.

His touch on your skin continued and it was almost so light that it was on the edge of ticklish, but when he got down to your boobs, it turned rough.

He kneaded and massaged them, you humming in approval.

Every time you thought his palms would come in contact with your nipples, you sighed in disappointment when they never did. He was clearly doing it on purpose, still continuing to torment you.

A moment passed until you were starting to feel annoyed at the lack of touch now, so you started to twist your body slightly, trying to show him what you wanted.

But it wasn’t enough because he still avoided your most sensitive parts.

“Drew, just touch me already”, you sighed, your voice sounding kind of fed up.

“Say my name again”, he responded, not giving you the answer you wanted.

“I will when you give me some satisfaction”, you snapped back, hoping it would trigger him somehow to just take you.

“Trust me Y/N, you’ll be begging for more satisfaction when I’m done with you”, he chuckled before taking your nipples between his fingers and lightly twisting them.

A loud, uncontrollable moan came from your mouth at the contact and you felt shockwaves through you body when he stared tugging and playing with them.

But he was finished with your chest quicker than you would have liked.

Feeling his hands around your ankles, your legs flew apart quickly and you felt Drew sit between them.

You wanted to open your eyes so bad, to see him looking at your exposed self, but knew better.

You waited for a moment, for him to do something.

And then another moment.

And another.

But nothing happened and you felt the anger rising again.

“If you don’t do something, I’ll open my eyes”, you threatened.

“Do that and you won’t get anything”, he was fast to reply.

“I swear I’ll open them”, you told him.

“And I swear, I won’t touch you again”, he said in a stern voice.

“Then untie me and I’ll fucking get up and leave”, you lied, hoping he would believe you.

You didn’t get an actual response, instead, his dark laughter filled your ears.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”, he told you.

“Do something or I’ll show you how hot I am when I’m furious”, you exclaimed and finally felt his hands at your inner thighs, spreading your legs more apart.

Your anger was forgotten in a second, trying to push yourself towards Drew so he wouldn’t take any longer with touching you.

A single finger went from your entrance up to your clit, a moan falling into the quiet room.

You expected him to just stop there, but to your surprise, he immediately went to rub on your clit, sending your mind into a wild haze.

It was like someone touching you for the first time, the anticipation for this moment making it all worth the wait, but you still wanted more.

Bucking your hips up just a little, Drew got the hint as he removed his finger and you felt him get up from the bed.

You wanted to open your eyes to see what he was doing, but he was quickly back and you felt his fingers pressing against your entrance, gliding in effortlessly, thanks to how wet you were.

Him inching himself in more and more, you frowned a little. His fingers seemed, really thick?

And then you realized, they weren’t his fingers, but a dildo.

“Where’d you get that?”, you quickly blurted out, not wanting to share the toys he might have used before.

“Don’t worry, I got it yesterday just for you”, he read your mind and your stomach tingled at the fact that he had done that.

You were fully prepared to reply, but nothing came out of your mouth when you felt him push the toy all the way in and pull it out, just to push it back in.

It didn’t take him long to find the rhythm that had you moaning and whimpering in seconds.

You thought you couldn’t last for more than a minute and wanted to warn him, but then felt the toy leave you completely.

A pair of hands were around you waist, flipping you over on your stomach.

A sharp stinging pain shocked you, realizing he had just spanked you, hard.

“Mm, Drew”, you moaned, lifting you ass up for him to do it again.

He repeated the action a few times until you heard him chuckle again.

“You’re such a good little slut, Y/N”, the comment earning another moan from you.

He flipped you over again, his other hand holding your waist tightly, pushing you down to keep you in place when his other hand pushed two fingers in, your head falling back in pure pleasure.

“Tell me you want me”, his voice sounded distant through the pleasure you were receiving.

“Tell me, you want me”, he repeated, now more firmly, but you still couldn’t give him an answer.

A harsh slap on your cheek brought you back to reality.

“Fucking answer me”, his voice was loud and clear, your eyes flying open to see him staring at you with a lustful stare.

The slap didn’t hurt, you just weren’t expecting it and it only made you more excited if even possible.

“I—I want you”, you rasped, trying to find your voice.

“Louder”, he demanded, not happy with your quiet voice.

“I want you”, you raised your voice just below a yell, making sure he heard you loud and clear this time.

And it was enough for him.

Watching him get up and remove his clothes, you had to keep your mouth for watering at the outline of his cock in his underwear.

Yes, you had had him in your hand, but the sight of actually seeing him, was mesmerizing.

The world around you seemed to slow down when he pushed down the boxers for you to see him fully.

Not to give away too much, but he wasn’t the average size.

You had to physically shake your head slightly to not stare, but Drew had noticed it and was smirking when he reached to his nightstand to grab a condom.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”, he asked after placing himself between your legs.

You wanted to give him a sarcastic comment, but instead just raised your eyebrows at him in a challenging way, not wanting anything to get in the way of him filling you up.

He flipped you around once again, lifting your ass up until your knees were supporting you.

You felt his hands groping your cheeks before the tip of his dick was at your entrance.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared for him to fully enter you, but definitely didn’t wait for him to just shove himself in like he did.

A mixture between a moan and a gasp loudly fell from your lips, but Drew didn’t give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a fast pace to pound into you.

“Oh god”, you moaned into the pillow beneath you, your hands trying to grip at anything, but the handcuffs restraining you.

“Fuck”, Drew groaned in response before pulling out and flipping you on your back, already pushing back in and finding even a faster pace than before.

“Drew”, you moaned his name, your eyes opening and closing in the blinding pleasure.

“Shut up”, Drew tried to take some control when you noticed him losing control over himself, his pounding becoming slightly uneven.

“Drew”, you moaned again, hoping it would help him reach his peak as you were coming close to yours.

His hands flew up to your neck, choking you, sending you almost over the edge which caused you to tense up your pelvic muscles.

“Oh shit”, the words flew from his mouth, his head shooting back when he came, your own body trembling with pleasure.

A few slow thrusts more and he pulled himself out and laid next to you, your eyes closing with a smile on your face, feeling sleepy after the overwhelming fulfillment you just received.

“Y/N?”, you heard Drew’s voice, but didn’t bother to answer, feeling like sleep was the better option out of anything right now.

“Y/N”, he repeated more firmly and you groaned when you opened your eyes and turned your head to him.

Only to see him looking down at you with a mix of shock and worry on his face.

“What?”, you quickly asked, getting up to rest on your elbows.

He just stared at you for a moment before speaking.

“The condom broke”.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey dirty imagine #outer banks #outer banks smut #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron

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theaspers · 4 years ago

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between heart and soul | lucifer x reader

a/n; warm up bc i haven’t written in a while. sort of an au? that isn’t really explored much in this fic but they’re still demons and the reader is still a mortal. part of a collection of fics that i had planned. anw mostly lucifer/reader with hints of lucifer/reader/diavolo.

also known as the conversation that takes place mostly on lucifer’s lap

“i like you though,” you tell him, a furrow between your brows and a frown twisting your lips. you’re curled up sideways on his lap, face tucked into the crook of his neck. quiet chatter fills the room, the occasional flickers and flashes of colour from the television drowning you in hues of yellows and reds. he feels the warmth of your breath against his collarbone as you continue to speak, “is that not a good enough reason?”

truthfully, he’d stopped giving the show attention about an hour ago. your insistence on watching it through and the fact that you were comfortable in his lap were the only reasons as to why he hadn’t left to do more productive things. lucifer breathes another sigh, “i did not think you to be so unreasonable.”

no, not completely so, lucifer thinks. headstrong, perhaps, a trait that had first pulled him to you but now only serve to perpetuate this matter as a point of contention.

unreasonable? he sees you mouth, incredulous, contemplative.

you shift minutely in his lap to look up at him, and he moves his fingers from your waist down to rest them lightly on your hips in support. the furrow between your brows deepen, as does your frown, “are you saying i shouldn’t like you? or dia?”

yes, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. whatever this was that was unfolding between you and him and the prince has grown disproportionately at such an alarming rate. he has to admit, however, he is growing incredibly fond of the idea by the second. he is not terribly resistant to it, only the lack of control he had over it which grated at him immensely.

still, this was a different matter altogether, he reminds himself. trust is fickle but his feelings would not be as volatile. two demons is two too many. perhaps he’s been too lenient with you. his fingers dig into your hips, but not enough to hurt, a little squeeze, a gentle reminder, “no. but perhaps, exercising caution would serve you well.”

“but i can’t not trust you. or dia. i like you. i like dia,” stated as a matter of fact. there’s a slight pause before, quietly and softly, you add, “you treat me well. make me feel safe.”

safe. a wicked shudder slithers down his spine. to think you would feel safe in the accompaniment of the demon prince and his right hand. but of course, he thinks. of course you’re safe. the safest you could possibly be. pride rumbles in his chest, driving him to press a kiss against your temple. at the back of his mind, the fact continues to prickle him uncomfortably.

you pull away slightly, straightening up in his lap, and the contentment that he had felt when you’d been pressed against him replaces itself with something like petulance. your fingers move up to curl around his cheek, as if to console him. your thumb is gentle as it traces the peak of his cheekbone. he knows you long enough to recognize that it is kind understanding that he sees on your face, and not the condescension that he would’ve taken it for if he didn’t know you better.

another day, he muses. he’ll save this conversation for another day. he pulls you into him, captures your lips with his, and makes sure you remember nothing about the awfully tragic mess of a show that you’d been watching.

“tell me,” you insist not long after, as you pull a stack of documents closer. another long day of work that’s stretched into the night, something lucifer’s certain shouldn’t be made a habit but has gone on for far too long to easily break out of. the tea that barbatos had served alongside an assorted platter of light snacks has long since gone tepid.

the night finds the two of you in a similar enough position - you on his lap, him allowing you. a haphazard mess of papers lie before the two of you and he’s far since lost track of which was his, and which was yours. not that there had been much progress since you’d slid onto his lap, he supposed. diavolo sits not too far away. in a bit of a mood after today’s reports of unrest, lucifer suspects, since he’s voluntarily poring over documents of his own on a desk across the room, focus unwavering. still, the occasional glances that the prince sneaks and the fond smile that swells warmly on his face do not go unnoticed by lucifer.

“hm?”

you lean back against him, attention rapt on the report before you, “tell me why you think i shouldn’t trust you.”

the shuffling of paper, the quiet scribbling that’s been filling the silence stops momentarily. when lucifer looks up, diavolo meets his eyes. a subtle exchange of quiet understanding. the prince chooses to remain silent. a fair enough decision. after all, it had been lucifer who insisted on the matter.

unknowing, or more likely, uncaring of what had transpired, you flip through the report that lucifer knows should have been completed by now. the comforting background noise resumes as diavolo returns his focus back onto his work. lucifer sighs, giving your side a little squeeze before he taps a gloved finger on the stack in front of you, “focus.”

he doesn’t miss the small snort that you make, the nonchalance in your next words, “you should help me with it then.”

the smile on your face grows at diavolo’s low chuckle. this wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve done this, and lucifer is certain that it would not be the last. the language of demons made your head hurt, you’d complained once. too confusing, you’d reasoned, but mischief gleams in the twinkle of your eyes, which is why you should help. the fact that you’re not past taking advantage of someone like lucifer doting on you amuses him more than it does anything else. he can’t say no to you, regardless.

“what do i need to do to crack you?” you ask, scribbling notes across the top of the page.

good progress. no major mistakes. he hums as he looks on, “oh, whatever could you mean, beloved.”

“you know. the whole you can’t trust us thing.” a line through several sentences, unreadable scrawls filling the space beside it. a frustrated sigh, quiet.

“wrong form,” he notes, picking up a stray pen and adding a few scribbles above your own. you thank him quietly, a final look through of the page before moving on to the next one.

“is my word not enough?” he asks, when he realises that you’re still waiting on an answer. much like him, you were not a stranger to the struggle and the pain of associating with his kind. the torture of betrayal, the blood spilled. a sharp burst of anger burns in him but it dissipates as soon as it comes.

“settle down,” you say as you turn to look at him, something like a sharp warning. a frown curls on your face, and he wishes for nothing more than the chance to smooth it away. you lean up to press a small kiss on his cheek instead, “that’s not what i meant. of course, they are.”

you turn back to the report, shifting slightly on his lap, “i’m just trying to understand, lucifer.”

he collects his thoughts in the slight gap of silence that comes afterwards, mindlessly tracking the movement of your fingers across the page. voice a low murmur, he points out, “change this part.”

“ah, right,” you hum, quickly jotting down a reminder for yourself. satisfied with the current state of the document, you move on to the next. “so i’m not supposed to trust demons.”

“correct.” he moves a hand to curl around your side. hardly ever a moment when he can keep his hands to himself nowadays.

your eyes flicker over to diavolo, who has a smile on his face but says nothing more, and then back to your report, “because demons always have ulterior motives.”

“yes.” lucifer’s glad that you’re aware of that much, at least.

an exhale through your lips, “i can’t trust demons. but surely i can trust my lovers?”

lucifer frowns, and ponders. he is a demon first and foremost, is he not? perhaps you needed another reminder. he was nothing so malevolent. nothing so righteous. but is he not a god in his own right? and though the line between lover and god may thin with each passing moment, his teeth remain sharp and his claws remain bloody. a weapon is still a weapon, no matter how much good it tries to do.

“lucifer,” you call out. a tenseness behind your voice, something like strength and power. you’ve long since placed your pen down, abandoned the stack of documents. you’ve turned to face him now, expression tight. reminds him of how absolutely delightful you’d been during the day’s training. oh, if only this had been a different moment, he laments.

you press on, eyes steely. commanding in the way that makes him want to bend to your will, “listen to me and listen well.”

“i trust your judgement. your truths. and i trust that you’ll take care of me.” your hand rests gently over his, before you bring it up to press a kiss over the top of his knuckle, “i have a lot of faith and trust in you. in both of you.”

in the mess of his own thoughts, he’d missed diavolo moving closer, now an arm’s length away. perched over the edge of lucifer’s desk, laughter rumbles his chest, warm and hearty. an i told you so if lucifer’s ever seen one. the prince leans closer and runs his fingers through your hair. presses a kiss on the side of your head. a reward that you gladfully bask in.

how odd, lucifer thinks, that this is where he’s found himself. that after centuries of violence and blood and grief, this is where he’s settled. a little world of his own, warm and content. with two that he can call his own.

he presses his eyes shut, leans into your warmth and concedes. there is no point in fighting it anymore. not when he sees the fiery determination that burns in your eyes, as if daring him to contest your truths further so you can prove him wrong. not with the backing of the prince who insists on pressing closer and closer. more than your occasional naïveté and unrelenting kindness, perhaps he should be more worried about how much of himself he’s given, of how much he’s surrendered to you and to his prince.

#anw be nice omg i havent written in forever asdja #obey me #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me shall we date

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