#but yeah her words would have a certain weight to them in his mind

[aero-sense]

Kaoru and Ryuunosuke dynamic where he tries his best in being her temporary aide and in his overzealous way, gets into fights with other people (literal passerbys probably). But Kaoru doesn't tolerate this and bonks his head with a fan, and scolds him like Tanba, that the way of the samurai is to be considerate of their people and that they are to serve others, not the other way around. I feel her presence would give a deep impression to Ryuunosuke.

[delirious-donna]

Happy Endings And An Unusual Suspect [Part Ten]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: One year on where and what are you and Kento up to? The story might be over but not every part has been told... what happens when you find out that life might not have been as serendipitous as you assumed?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: fluff, NSFW, smut from the start, happy endings with a little reveal, literally just tooth rotting fluffy and sexy times

Part Nine | Series Masterlist

“They’re waiting on us… fuck.”

“Let them, I want this. I need this. Move this a little—yeah, like that.”

“Kento! Oh… god, don’t stop. Right there!”

“Someone changed their tune…”

You would smack him if you weren’t holding on to his shoulders and neck for dear life. Plumes of rich champagne skirt bunched around your waist and gave the man holding you against the wall the look of someone being devoured by a rampaging marshmallow. Laughter caught tight in your throat, every time it threatened to squeeze out, a sharp thrust punctured it like a pin into a balloon.

Kento shifted, his stance widening as far as the dress slacks around his knees would allow, but enough to throw your leg over the crook of his arm. He was buried balls deep in you, holding on to the last vestiges of his orgasm by sheer force of will alone. He kissed you, punch drunk and sloppy, taking the colour of your lips with him to stain his mouth and cheek.

“Mrs Nanami,” he crooned.

The clench of your cunt around him made his smile grow wider, white teeth showing through his parted lips and your eyes rolled to the back of your skull at the pure decadence of it all.

“It’s—will you let me—speak!” Kento only doubled down at your request, snapping forward at a pace that stole the words right out of your mouth. An orgasm built with fierce determination, making your voice falter and shake. “—only been ten minutes.”

He couldn’t care if it had been ten minutes or ten years, Kento knew you were his, now in name as well as heart. His forehead rested against yours, chasing his end that hurtled closer with every contraction of your walls around his cock.

A year ago, he wouldn’t have thought this possible. It wasn’t a part of his plans, a wife and family, that was something to be attained once he was financially stable and as high up the ladder as he dared to climb without suffering from burnout.

Yet, as he waited for the ceremony to begin and for the harpist to start the beautiful melody you had picked for your entrance, there was no doubt in his mind that he was exactly where he was meant to be. He was taking a big risk in many aspects of his life, but the one part he was certain about was you and he might have never found his courage had you not ended up in his bathtub that fateful day.

If he thought back to when he walked out of his office for what turned out to be the last time, he recalled the weight that eased from his shoulders. Did he know that at that moment he was changing the course of his future? Definitely not, but with his decision made to find and apologise to you for his mistakes, he fell into an understanding that otherwise might have never become clear to him.

You were his counterbalance. The sunshine that tempted him back into the light when his world felt dark and full of shadows. Perhaps if he had been willing to admit that you saw a side of him that he refused to acknowledge from the start, it wouldn’t have come to such a dramatic head. Except… there was a part of him that knew, deep down, that had things not broken so intrinsically, that this day he was living right now might have never come to exist.

Images of you flashed through his mind, a litany of Polaroid pictures capturing moments that would remain with him until the end days.

Your panic-stricken face and flailing limbs submerged in bubbly water. Laying by his side at the museum as you watched the stars twinkle overhead. Cuddled into his arm when you were scared. Tucked into bed after he carried you there, asleep and smiling. Your tear-stricken face when he pushed you away. The hurt expression that had taken away part of your glow and wounded his soul. Your blissful expression when he made love to you that first time. The most radiant smile when you walked down the aisle.

A knock on the door brought him back into the present with a bump. Kento pressed his palm over your mouth to stifle the surprised squeak, not pausing in his thrusts to answer. “Who is it?”

“You’re wanted for photographs,” a stern and not-too-familiar voice announced, adding a fist to the door in emphasis. “The photographer is getting antsy…”

“We’ll be—” he paused when your tongue darted out to lick his palm and he damn near moaned, “right out.” His jaw set firmly, eyes narrowing on your sweet face and the slow blink you offered without a hint of remorse. You would be the death of him, and he’d be happy to meet his maker knowing you were the one that sent him there.

When a set of footsteps retreated away from the door, Kento relented in uncovering your mouth to reveal a saccharine smile. “That was—reckless.” The word was punctuated with a sharp forward thrust that sank him into what felt like the depths of your belly.

He watched as the smile slipped, your jaw slackening to form a perfect oval of pleasure and without warning, you erupted. The leg draped over his arm twitched and spasmed, but it was nothing compared to your silken pussy milking him for his seed. Kento shuddered and let go. Your orgasm tripped his own, balls drawn tight to his pelvis whilst he filled you with his spend. Every moment of release made him reminisce about the very first, where you had playfully chastised him for painting your stomach and asked that he finish inside you in the future.

A promise that he had kept since that day.

“I love you, Mrs Nanami…”

“I know, and I love you too, Mr Nanami.” You traced the curve of his jaw, smiling at the kiss he pressed to the inside of your wrist. “Now let’s go fulfil our duties, yes?”

Kento helped you back into the perfect semblance of a blushing bride, fixing your underwear back into place and smoothing down the skirts of your dress. There was a dark glint of satisfaction in his eye, knowing that you would spend the day with his cum inside you, that you’d be clenching to keep it from running down the inside of your thighs.

“Don’t give me that look, mister,” you said suddenly, knowing. Kento glanced up, sheepish in being caught so readily in his filthy daydreaming.

“I don’t know what you mean, my love.”

You scoffed. A finger caught beneath his chin, drawing him to full height and closer to your face. “You think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” You teased with a purr, “How about if you can behave yourself until tonight… I’ll let you check if I’ve managed to keep your little gift, hm?”

“You are a devil incarnate.”

“A devil you married. What does that say about you?”

“That I am not above temptation.”

“Took you long enough to realise.”

~

You smiled at the photographer who was wringing his hands together in panic, his eyes widening and shoulders sagging when the two of you appeared from the naughty little bubble of your private tryst.

Kento had changed; in ways you had never thought possible, but he was still the same man you met and fell in love with. There were still times his posture stiffened at your antics, and his eyebrow would not-so-subtly arch if he thought you were in some way being ridiculous. However, he appreciated his own happiness more than financial gain. He worked on himself internally instead of only focusing on the outside. No longer was the time it takes to read and enjoy a good book considered wasted time, and he pursued hobbies he assumed would never be touched again.

Would you have suspected him to indulge in a fevered moment of pure lust and desire back when you first met him? No. But it hadn’t taken you long to discover that he possessed certain buttons that would drive him to almost any lengths, and becoming a savant at playing him was your ambition in life.

Gazing wistfully at your husband—heart skipping a beat at the new term that had yet to sink in—you considered just how far you both had come in little over a year. You had graduated from college with honours, started an internship at a small independent company that was growing quickly but organically, and you were newly married. That part was going to take some time to get used to.

After the dramatic events that led Kento to your apartment door that spring afternoon, you took things slow but steady. It was nice to date him like you might do any other person, and he tried so hard to impress you that you fell even harder for him. Home-cooked dinners in your apartment’s cramped kitchen, long lazy walks where you talked for hours about everything and nothing, and so many hours spent rolling around the sheets. Not always in the pursuit of sex, sometimes just indulging in one another—watching his chest rise and fall, connecting the little freckles that dappled his shoulders.

It wasn’t until a month into your newfound relationship did you step past the threshold of his apartment again. Something was holding you back before that moment, a sense that if you returned it wouldn’t hold the same magic that it once had. Except you were wrong.

The apartment held a pivotal role in what had brought you together, and that was no more evident than when you returned, and everything was exactly how it had been. The same aroma of expensive coffee beans mingled with a fragrance that you knew now to be Kento’s favoured cologne. The panoramic windows offered the same undisturbed view of the city, and the sprawling couch with its basket of blankets would forever remind you of when you clung to him during a scary movie, and that first experience of his lips gracing your skin.

It felt like coming home after far too long. Since that first trip back, you hadn’t spent a night away until last night—the night before your wedding. Kento’s proposal was a story in itself, but for another time, you mused.

Speaking of your darling new husband, there was a part of you that still couldn’t believe that after he took off all his allotted, and well-overdue vacation time, he had handed in his notice with immediate effect. No one was more shocked than the man himself, and the panic that followed his decision had been a rollercoaster ride of euphoric highs and crushing lows.

He wasn’t happy with what he was doing day in and day out, the work was physically draining the vibrancy out of his life, but what does one do when they cannot do?

They teach.

So, in what felt like role reversal, Kento joined your alma mater as a junior professor, and you entered the working world. Teaching suited him far more than you had anticipated. His stern façade and seeming indifference towards difficult students had a way of drawing out the potential in his young charges. It was only a few terms into his first year of teaching and the feedback was already far beyond the expectations in place.

What a difference a year makes…

The evening was finally drawing in, the sun setting behind the cherry blossom trees to paint the sky a beautiful pale pink and you couldn’t wait to retire for the evening and get out of this dress. As exquisite as it was, it was cumbersome for someone used to the comfort of jeans, oversized sweaters and casual dresses.

You caught Kento’s eye from across the room and he nodded in complete understanding without the need to say a word. He gave his apologies to the couple he had been conversing with, pointing towards you and they inclined their heads in your direction. All you could do was watch the majesty that was the man of your dreams walk to you. His suit was deep navy and paired with a buttercup yellow tie and pocket square. Thankfully it was not the yellow splattered tie of your memories, though he had tried to persuade you, unsuccessfully so.

Like a male model he walked with a grace you dreamed of, and before you knew it, his palm was beneath your elbow.

“Ready to call it a night?” He asked with a tone in his voice that assured you that no sleeping would be taking place anytime soon.

“It’s like you read my mind. I’ll just say goodnight to my parents and yours,” you started before someone caught a hold of your wrist.

Looking down you saw a feminine hand with a simple gold bracelet adorning flawless skin and pretty manicured nails.

“Karin,” Kento said, startled by her sudden appearance. “I haven’t seen you since the ceremony, where have you been?”

Kento’s sister loosened her gentle hold to place your hand into her brother’s hand with an unreadable expression. She was tall, always had been taller than you even when you wore heels, and her hair was darker than Kento’s corn wheat blond. Their eyes were their most similar feature, hazel in colour and almost alive with warm flecks that intensified or darkened depending on their mood.

Your friendship had survived you dating her brother, although it would be a lie to pretend that things hadn’t changed. However, it could be said that no matter who you had ended up with or that she had met and fallen for, things would be different. It was the next chapter of your lives and whilst you both embraced a friendship that went beyond the trappings of young adulthood, if you didn’t shift with the momentum then it wouldn’t last.

“It worked then,” Karin said with an awfully self-satisfied smile.

“What worked?” Kento asked whilst your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Karin clicked her tongue against her teeth and rested her chin in the hold of her thumb and finger. “Oh, y’know… my plan.”

“Stop talking in riddles and spit it out, I can tell you’re dying to,” you said with an exaggerated eye roll at her antics.

“You, dear brother,” she pointed dramatically at Kento who raised his eyebrows, “have needed someone in your life that would remove the stick out of your butt and remind you that life was worth living. Work is not the epitome of existence after all.”

You snorted loudly, drawing a wider smile from your friend and a scowl from your husband. Kento nudged your hip, and you patted his arm dutifully. “On the money with that assessment but what does that have to do with anything?”

“And you,” she rounded on you as if you hadn’t spoken, “needed a little more stability in your life and someone that you could depend on no matter what.”

“What are you—”

“Karin! Are you saying you planned our meeting?” You interjected across Kento, who snapped his head around to his little sister with alarm.

“But you couldn’t have. No one knew I wasn’t going on that trip apart from me and…”

“Satoru,” Karin finished his sentence for him. “I must admit that I hadn’t foreseen that little snag in the plan, but I had him keep you in the office until I knew your beautiful bride was already in your apartment. Didn’t you think about it even a little? That retreat was only a weekend long, you were always going to come back to find someone in your home.”

You looked at Kento. Kento looked at you. His mouth gaped open then shut like a fish out of water.

“You two became so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t even put two and two together. Not even when you both blasted my phone, it only lasted one night then I barely heard a peep from either of you! It was like you were happy with the arrangement…” she supplied easily, too easily.

Goddammit. You had been played and you didn’t even realise. For a whole year, Karin had gone along with your stories of the time you spent with her brother, lamenting his frustrating lack of intuition when it came to the opposite sex and steering away from the spicier moments that any sibling would rather be buried alive than listen to.

Honestly, you didn’t know what to say, but thankfully Karin was happy to continue in your stead.

“I couldn’t exactly make you like each other, and what happened once you were both in the apartment could have been anything. All those decisions and regrets,” she eyed Kento with a cold, piercing look and you felt him squirm uncomfortably by your side, “they were yours to make. I did nothing but set the pieces on the board, you played the game and you won.”

Should you thank her or be utterly appalled? It was hard to tell. In the end, you gave in to the third option of the laughter filling you like a helium balloon. It burst forth all at once until others started to turn their heads and watch as the bride doubled over clutching their stomach from the sensation.

You hugged her, arms flung around her neck in a genuine display that she reciprocated with a warmth which was familiar and comforting. “We’ll talk about this another time, Karin, but for now… thank you.”

As she departed to rejoin the throng of people on the dance floor, you turned to your husband who was ashen and unblinking. “I feel like she just pulled a Keyser Soze on us,” you whispered, tugging on his hand and making to move off in the direction of both sets of parents who were waiting for you both.

“And I feel like most people your age wouldn’t even know who that is,” he teased, finally coming out of his startled trance.

“Tch. You say that like I’m decades younger than you instead of a measly five years. Five years is nothing, y'know.”

Kento smiled down at you, emotions filling his gaze until he looked away and caught Karin’s eye from the other side of the room. He mouthed ‘thank you’ and meant it. His sister had given him the greatest gift he could ever receive, and he would be grateful until the end of days.

He had started as your best friend’s brother, but Kento had become so much more…

[shiorimakibawrites]

Relax (Daredevil Fan Fic)

Inspired by the above gif and that shower scene in the leaked Daredevil: Born Again trailer. Then given life by the enabling of Murdock's Tuna Team.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: ~3500 Warnings: Black Suit Daredevil, Explicit sexual content including shower sex, dirty talk, masturbation, sexual fantasies (binding, male receiving oral sex, edging, p in v sex), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms, clothed sex (one partner naked), marking Summary: After a long day, you tried to relax in the shower. General Masterlist / Matt Murdock Masterlist Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @sleepysleepymom, @bellaxgiornata, @yarrystyleeza AO3 Link

Relax

You closed the door behind you. It was such a relief to be home. Your day had been terrible. The computer at work kept having problems. To the point that you had been sorely tempted to throw it out the window. Your office was five stories up. It would make a very satisfying crash when it hit the ground . . . well, satisfying until you got fired for destroying office property.

Your boss wasn’t very sympathetic about the delays. And that was putting it mildly. It soon became just as tempting to defenestrate her along with the computer. After all, you knew a really good lawyer . . . But in the end, you gritted your teeth and restrained yourself.

At least you weren’t the only one she had been an absolute nightmare to. The poor kid from IT had also gotten it from barrels.

It eventually got fixed but not before you had to cancel your lunch plans with Matt. Had to warn him that you were probably working late.

And you had. Not as late as you feared but late enough that you were certain that you had missed Matt. Again.

The journey home after work did nothing to improve your mood. Today had been unbearably hot and humid. The sun might have gone down but the temperature hadn’t. It didn’t take long to start sweating. Not for the first time, you wished your office didn’t have such a strict dress code. Even your lightest weight suit was too warm for this weather.

As expected, the apartment was empty and silent. But you couldn’t say that Matt’s absence from the apartment wasn’t a disappointment. You wanted a hug. You had a shitty day. You were tired. You were frustrated. Your feet hurt. You felt the pressure in your temples that signaled an oncoming migraine. You could really use the comfort of having Matt’s strong arms around you, his deep voice murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

Or dirty promises, your mind suggested. Your husband was equally good at both. But what made his dirty promises so effective was that you knew they weren’t idle boosting. He always delivered. You vividly remembered the one he had made on your wedding night.

What I want, Mrs. Murdock, is for you to ruin these sheets. So I’m going to bury my face in that beautiful pussy until you can’t walk tomorrow.

And he had. To this day, you have no idea how many orgasms it was. There were at least four but after that it started to get hazy.

You squeezed your thighs together. Just the memory of that night was enough to awaken a familiar ache between your legs. If Matt was here, he’d be giving you that knowing smirk.

Assuming the reek of drying sweat didn’t put him off entirely. Maybe you should take a shower . . . Yeah, a shower sounded good. It would help relax you after such a terrible day and you wouldn’t stink when your husband returned. Win-win.

You kicked off your heels, nudging them under the bench next to Matt’s leather shoes with your foot. Your briefcase and purse, you just dropped onto one of the living room chairs. The one that had the jacket and tie Matt had worn this morning draped across the back. It was joined by your own suit jacket, then you made a beeline for the bathroom.

You turned on the water, then adjusted the temperature to your preference. Peeling off your clothes was so satisfying . . . especially your bra. Taking off your bra was usually one of the best things about coming home but today? Getting the sweaty thing off felt particularly good. You dropped it in with the rest of your clothes piled in the corner. Another thing to tidy up later.

You groaned in relief when you stepped under the spray. The heat immediately began seeping into your muscles. You hadn’t realized just how tighter you were in your neck and upper back until it started to loosen. Truly, hot water on tap was one of human civilization’s greatest luxuries.

You had ignored your earlier arousal while you washed but afterward, your cunt reminded you that it had been a while you and Matt had had sex. Well, a while for the two of you. Technically a week wasn’t all that long. But it sure felt like it to your cunt which had gotten used to regular attention.

Inevitably your mind slipped back to the last time you had gotten that attention. Sunday morning, just before things decided to get hectic. You had woken up to Matt kissing your neck. You rolled over and kissed him. The kiss was soft despite the very eager cock pressed tightly against your ass. His hands had been just as gentle, almost reverent in their exploration. Slowly building the heat until he slide inside you with one of those beautiful moans. His pace remained unhurried, slowly fucking . . . no, making love to you until you were almost sobbing. There was no almost about it, when he ate you out afterward.

Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing. It wanted Matt . . . but Matt wasn’t here . . . . you could wait for his return but who knows when that would be . . . sometimes Matt was out there until the wee hours of the morning. You couldn’t wait that long. You needed some relief now.

The decision to slip your hand between your thighs wasn’t hard. You moaned at the feeling. It had been a long time since you had last touched yourself. Matt was more than happy to take care of your needs . . . And it seemed like every time you touched yourself in front of him, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself for long . . . maybe you should tie him up . . .

You worked a single finger into yourself . . . it was a pretty picture. Matt spread out on the bed, naked save for the ropes binding his hands above his head. Unable to touch you while you did whatever you wanted to him. You could trace every muscle, first with your fingertips, then with your mouth, slowly making your way to his cock. 

Or maybe, you thought biting your lip as you worked in another finger, maybe you wouldn’t touch him at all. You would touch yourself. Drive Matt crazy with the scent of your arousal, the sounds of your pleasure . . . Past attempts trying this had always ended when Matt couldn’t stay away. Sweetheart, you smell so good. I need to taste you.

But maybe if you tied him down, you’d get him begging. Then maybe you would untie him. Or maybe you would just ride him. Turn him into the same moaning mess he made you . . .

You let out a stuttering moan at the image, increasing the movement of your fingers in and out. Close, you were getting close . . .

The bathroom door opened. You let out a shriek, your fingers slipping out of you. Heart pounding with sudden fear, you whirled around to face the intruder . . .

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

Matt . . . the fear drained out of you. “Fuck, Matt.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Unlike all the times that he had startled you to amuse himself, he sounded genuinely remorseful. You turned to look at him and had another surprise. He was wearing the black suit. You weren’t expecting that. And neither was your cunt.

You had always had a weakness for the black suit. You couldn’t really explain why. The red suit was just as tight. Just as sexy in its own way. Could get you all hot and bothered. But there was something about the black suit. It was different. And that undefinable difference made you feel feral.

Especially, you squinted through the steam, when said suit was soaking wet. Turning the already tight clothing into something painted on. You could see every ridge and crevice of his torso and abdominals. And the outline of his cock . . . already erect . . . your cunt clenched again, desperately aching for him to be inside you again.

Add in the beard Matt had started growing, a beard lightly peppered with gray . . . if you hadn’t been wet before, you certainly would be now.

And Matt knew it. You could see it in that smug, little smirk that replaced the contrite look. He started removing his gloves.

“Hey, babe,” You said, trying to play it cool. With limited success. “You’re home early. Got too wet?”

The smirk only grew. “No but I think someone here is.”

You felt warmth spread across your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Sweetheart, do you think I can’t smell how wet you are?” He moved closer. Even barefoot, that predatory slink sent shivers down your spine.

But not from fear.

He herded you toward the back. You gasped at the bite of the cool tiles but your attention was rapidly pulled back to the man in front of you. His hands were braced on the wall either side of your head, boxing you in. He leaned in close, put his mouth right by your ear.

“Because I can.” His voice was deep as it went, a low rumble like thunder. You squirmed, your breath hitching. You had heard his Devil voice before. Matt had very quickly figured that you found his voice a turn on, his Devil even more so. But you hadn’t heard him using the Devil voice while wearing the black suit. The combination was dizzyingly hot. “I smelled your pussy and how thoroughly drenched it is the second I walked in the door.”

“I heard those breathy little moans as you touched yourself from a block away. I heard you panting out my name when you started fingering yourself.” He nuzzled your neck, his lips brushing against a sensitive spot. You felt your skin pebble and you shivered at the sensation. “Has my sweet girl been missing me?”

“Yes,” you said. Your voice had gone breathy. “I’ve barely even seen you this week, Matty.”

Matt made a thoughtful humming noise, kissing your neck. “And then I ruined your orgasm. Let’s fix that.”

He punctuated that promise with a gentle nip. You shuddered, your breath hitching as his mouth continued to work that part of your neck with his lips, teeth, and tongue. It was a sensitive spot. Matt always paid it some attention, sometimes leaving a mark.

Today seemed to be one of those times.

His hands didn’t remain idle. One reached down to cup your left breast, kneading the soft flesh. You couldn’t have contained that breathy moan if you wanted to. It felt so good to have his hands back on you. It really had been too long since he touched you. A second, louder moan spilled out of your mouth when his fingers gently pinched the stiff nipple, then started rolling it between his fingers.

The other hand continued its downward journey until it was cupping your mound. You gasped, your head thrown back against the tile as a single finger slipped between your folds. He slid through your folds a few times, coating his finger in your slick. Before slipping down to trace your entrance. A deep, feral noise rumbled out of his chest.

“You are so fucking wet,” Matt growled into your neck. “All this mine?”

“Y-yes,” You said, your voice rising in pitch as his finger slid inside you. It felt so good. Matt’s fingers were longer and thicker than yours. Not quite as thick as two of your fingers. You bite your lip. You needed more. And because Matt knew your body inside and out, he didn’t need to be told to start working in a second finger. Now you could feel the stretch, the fullness that had been missing before. You threw your head back against the tile, moaning.

“Just like that, sweet girl,” he said. “Give me those beautiful sounds.”

The wave had already begun to build but it climbed higher and higher with each thrust of his fingers, each brush of that spongy spot deep inside that you couldn’t reach with your own fingers. The whines you let out when his hand abandoned your breast rapidly turned into whimpers when his fingers began rubbing circles on your clit.

The little nub was already swollen and sensitive from your almost orgasm. It didn’t take much attention to it for that wave to crest, toppling over into bliss. Bliss that 

The little nub was already sensitive from your almost orgasm. It didn’t take much for that wave to crest, topple over as you came. Waves of bliss that rippled through your body as Matt’s hands continued their work. Not stopping until your inner walls stopped squeezing tight on his fingers. Only then did his fingers slip out of you and away from your clit.

Panting, you slumped back against the tile wall. Your shaky legs couldn’t hold your body upright without the help. The shaking only got worse when Matt lifted his head. Even with his mask still on, you knew that look. That feral hunger. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you against the wall.

Then he sank down to his knees.

You bite your bottom lip, barely managing to swallow an embarrassingly loud moan. Because that . . . the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen kneeling between your legs as the shower continued to pour water down on you . . . Despite just having an orgasm, your cunt throbbed with need. Need that only swelled when Matt grabbed one leg and hoisted over his shoulder, leaving you open to him.

Matt ignored your eager cunt in favor of your inner thigh. Another sensitive spot that he loved leaving marks on. No one but you would ever see it but he knew you liked the physical reminder of his ardor, enjoyed the slight sting when something brushed the mark. Lately that secret pleasure has increased with the addition of beard burn. Your panting picked up as he lighty bit down on that spot. It felt good. It felt so, so good.

But it wasn’t what you needed.

“Matt,” you whined, trying to squirm but held still by the hands gripping your hips. “Please.”

“Hmmm? Does my sweet girl want something?” he asked, only lifting his head enough to speak. The teasing brush of his lips against already sensitive skin only increased your attempts to squirm. But you couldn’t. All you could do was dig the heel of your foot against his back.

To no avail. He was clearly content to wait for you to break. It didn’t take long.

“Your mouth,” you begged. “Please Matty, eat me out.”

“One condition.”

“Anything!”

You could more feel than see the smirk on his face. “You better not swallow any more noises. I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

“But the neighbors . . .”

“Fuck the neighbors,” he growled into your thigh. “I want to hear you scream.”

Then his lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked. You cried out, hands scrambling on the tile. The pleasure was so intense that it bordered on painful. But Matt was merciless, not letting up on the pressure until you were screaming his name as you came for the second time.

“Matt,” you whimpered when his mouth lowered down to lap noisily at your soaked entrance with his usual enthusiasm, sending sparks of white-hot pleasure up your spine. It was so good. It was too much. You didn’t know if you wanted to push your cunt closer to his mouth or pull away.

Eventually he was satisfied that he had gotten every drop. Carefully lifting one hand away from your hips to lower your trembling leg off his shoulder. The hand returned to your hips. Good thing as his hands were the only thing keeping you from sliding down the shower floor. A shift, then he was rising back to his feet.

He kissed you. It was a hungry thing, devouring you like he intended to eat you from the mouth down. You could taste the tang of yourself on his tongue. He pressed himself against you, swallowing all your whimpers as he rutted his clothed cock against your bare cunt. Good, it felt so good . . . 

His hands shifted again until his arm was under your ass. Then he was lifting you up. Your legs dangled on either side of him, still too wobbly to wrap around his waist. You had a moment of worry that he would slip but your husband was cat-like in his grace as ever. And so strong. Even knowing him for as long as you had, sometimes his strength still surprised you. He effortlessly carried you out of the shower. Not even pausing and shifting your weight to one arm in order to turn off the shower caused him any difficulty.

You thought that he might carry you into the bedroom but apparently Matt was feeling impatient. He plopped you down on the bathroom counter. Then his hands reached down and hurriedly undid his belt buckle. The zipper came down next, Matt letting out a soft sigh of pleasure. With a little difficulty, he pushed down his pants and boxers far enough to free his cock.

Your cunt clenched pathetically around nothing. That particular body part should have been sated but it wasn’t. Not while it was so empty. Not when his cock was right there, long and thick and hard. Not when you could be getting fucked by your Devil.

“Do you want me to be gentle?” He asked, his hands gripping your thighs.

“No.”

He roughly pulled you forward by your thighs until you were on the edge of the counter, then used that same hold to spread your legs wide. You felt him sliding against you, then he was inside you. Sliding all the way in without pausing. You gasped. Even with two orgasms and the earlier fingering, it was still a tight squeeze. Not enough to hurt but you would be feeling this later.

Good. You liked waking up like that, feeling the pleasant ache of your and Matt’s passion for each other.

Before he could even ask, you were demanding, begging. “Fuck me, fuck me hard.”

He drew out part way, then back in, and after that there was nothing but his cock inside you. His thrusts were hard and fast, pumping into you with a relentless pace. Just like you asked. All you could do was hang on, hands clinging to his shoulders. One of your legs regained enough strength to wrap around his bare ass. 

The sound of flesh hitting flesh and his grunts as he fucked into you seemed oddly loud, ringing with the faint echoiness of the bathroom. Your own cries of pleasure were only slightly muffled by his neck where you had buried your face. You had to bite down on his neck to contain your screams when with a slight adjustment of his hips, he began hitting that spot deep inside you that brought you so much pleasure. He groaned at the press of your teeth into his flesh. Matty loved a bit of pain with his pleasure.

A third wave of pleasure grew, swelled until it became a raging torrent. You could not help but be swept away. You came, wrenching your mouth away from his neck to scream out his name again and again. Your nails dug deep into his shoulder, then he slammed hard into you, pushing himself impossibly. And he came with a beautiful groan, spilling his release inside you.

You had no idea how long you both remained right where you were, breathing hard with his cock still buried deep inside you as he could be. You could feel it twitching as your cunt continued to flutter around it. But gradually the fluttering and the twitching slowed, then stopped. You reached up, hooked your fingers under the edge and pulled off his mask. 

You loved your Devil but you also loved your Matt. And you haven't seen much of him this week either.

A sentiment Matt seemed to share, smiling at you. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you said, smiling back. It was impossible not when he had that dopey, slightly crooked smile on his face. It was almost impossible not to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Which only grew that blissful, peaceful look on his face.

“Our water bill this month is going to be outrageous.”

“Worth it.”

Matt hissed a little when he pulled his cock out. But so did you when he helped clean you up, more than a little sensitive. But you wouldn’t trade that experience for anything. As Matt just said, worth it.

He finally peeled off his sopping wet clothes, hanging them up to dry. Your body tried to muster up the energy for a fourth round after seeing his naked body. But you were too tired. Probably just as well. Your legs were limp noodles. For which Matt lightly teased you as he carried you to the bed.

As you lay snuggled across his side, you said softly, “I love you.”

You never let a day pass without telling Matt that. You never wanted him to doubt that. It had taken too long for you to convince him that you weren’t going anywhere. That you were here to say. That you loved him for him.

“I love you, too,” Matt said, his voice just as soft.

Just as you were about to drift off, an idea floated to the top of your mind.

“Hey Matt?”

A questioning sleepy hum.

“How do you feel about being tied up?”

__

To be continued . . . in Bound

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Bad Faith Part One

Masterlist | Part Two

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will likely be explicit)

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever. Welcome to part one of two!

There will ONLY be two parts! If you ask me at the end of part two where part three is, I'm going to point you back to this notes section!

If you asked me where part three is and you've been linked here, hi!

Length: 8k

Warnings: Angst. Angst angst angst angst; reader is going through a divorce; Reader's married surname is Hayward; unhealthy coping mechanisms; lovers to enemies to allies to lovers....did I mention angst by any chance? Cause—

Summary: There were so many resources about Steven Hayward from the last decade—interviews, profiles, filings. In all of them, Steven came off as a self-assured, cocky, pompous asshat, but a decent strategist. Those same profiles had described Mrs. Hayward as the trophy wife, the little woman behind the man, tending to the arrangements for their multi-million, 3,000 square foot penthouse overlooking Central Park. For as much as Harvey had forced himself to forget about her, he couldn’t forget her spirit, her determination, her desire to build a life, not to be handed one. None of the credit was given to her. None of the glory, none of the acknowledgement of what Harvey was certain were her blood, sweat and tears in that man’s holdings. 

The tears that she had seemed set to shed in his office were all the indication that Harvey needed.

It was a long, harrowing moment of silence as Jessica processed all that you’d told her. You fought not to sniffle into the quiet, but your eyes had steadily been leaking tears for the last twenty minutes. Jessica finally stood from her armchair, patting you on the knee and murmuring, “You need a drink.” 

You spluttered a weak laugh, watching her stride over to her luxe kitchen. 

“Gin and tonic?”  

“I would drink the gin straight at that point," You failed to tease.

“Things aren’t all that desperate yet.” 

Yet. How reassuring.

You looked down at the damp, crumpled tissues in your hand before you raised one, dabbing at the few remaining tears. It was another few moments before you heard the click of Jessica’s heels crossing back to you. 

“...Thanks for holding back.” 

She frowned as you looked up at her, taking hold of the glass that she proffered. 

“Holding back?” 

“The I told you so.” 

Jessica’s lips pursed, her head tipping with what you could only assume was a blend of indignance and pity. 

“I did, for the record.” 

“I know.” 

“I told you nothing good could come from tangling your entire life up with that man.” 

“You know, I think those were the exact words that you closed your toast out with at the wedding.” You took a swig, wincing at the overwhelming tang of gin. “Christ, that’s strong.” 

“Too much?” 

“No. It’s perfect, actually.” 

Jessica smiled, lowering herself to sit beside you. 

“Do you have lawyers in mind?” 

“For the divorce? No.” 

“I’ll give you recommendations.” 

“I appreciate that, but that’s not why I’m here.” You glanced doggedly toward Jessica. “I need your help…Untangling a few holdings. Things that I can live off of, or break apart and sell for scraps. I can’t even afford a divorce lawyer right now—let alone whoever you’d suggest.” 

“What?” 

“Steven locked all of my credit cards and froze our joint bank account. I tried reaching out to him, but he won't answer me, and the bank won’t unfreeze it. He seems to think that I’m going to drain the entire thing.” 

“Why does he think that?” 

“Probably because that’s what he would do.” You sniffled, looking down into your glass. “I have some money in savings, but not a lot. Not enough for me to live off of beyond a few months.” 

“Holy hell,” Jessica sighed. You grunted, head hanging as you felt the weight of her judgement. “Do you have any idea which entities you want to go after?” 

“Yeah.” You set your drink down, reaching out to where you’d set your bag down and drawing out a bland beige file. You’d spent the morning working up your courage to come over and tell Jessica the awful truth, and had also spent that time putting together the data to do it. You flipped the file open and passed it over. 

“This is every single property and holding company that I have my name on. I circled the apartment buildings that I want to sell, and the companies that I think would be best suited to my purposes.” 

“Is Steven on all of these?” 

“Only the ones that I put an asterisk beside, but I wouldn't be surprised if he came after the others.”

Jessica hummed, nodding. “You knew exactly what I’d ask for.” 

“Well, I know you.” 

She smiled, closing your file and setting it on her lap. 

“Then I’m sure you know what I’m going to say next.” 

The implication made your stomach churn with discomfort. You took the glass up again, taking a deep pull from it. 

“I do,” You admitted, nose wrinkling again from the sharp juniper taste, “And I know that you’re going to say that it’s the best course of action—” 

“The only course of action.” 

“That’s patently untrue. You have more than one lawyer at your firm.” 

“Not one that could handle a case of this magnitude.” 

“Not even Louis?” 

“Louis is like a french bulldog. Harvey is a pitbull.” 

“You know, that’s actually a really harmful stereotype.”

Jessica’s brows lowered in chastisement, and you looked back down into your drink for safety.

“Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest?” You added. 

“How could it be? You’ve barely spoken to or looked at the man in eleven years.” 

Eleven years. Had it really been that long? 

“I know that you and Harvey parted on bad terms,” Jessica offered softly, and continued over your disbelieving scoff, “But you need to come out of this with the funds and the strength for a good divorce lawyer. Harvey can give you that.” 

“What if he doesn’t take the case?” 

“He will.” 

“But if he doesn’t?” 

“He will.” 

“Jessica.” 

“He won't have a choice.” 

“Oh, he’ll love that. There’s nothing Harvey likes more than being backed in a corner."

“That’s when he comes out swinging the hardest.” She plucked the emptied glass out of your hand, heading toward the kitchen again. “Would you like another one?” 

You sighed, slouching heavily against the couch and scrubbing your tired eyes. 

“I’d really just like that bottle of gin—and a straw.”

-- 

“Would you stop fussing? You look fine.” 

“I don’t care how I look,” You grumbled, though that didn’t stop you from reaching down and adjusting the skirt of your dress. You didn’t want to admit that Jessica was right, though you both knew that she was. She always had you nailed dead to rights, and that morning was no different. 

You had a slight headache from the drinks you’d had at her apartment the night before, but it was hardly the worst hangover that you’d ever had. You were already two coffees in and you were itching for a third, but you already felt like shit. A third one would just make your heart pound harder, your hands more sweaty, and probably send your anxiety through the roof. You were certain the conversation you were about to have would do all of that for you, so no additional coffee was needed. 

You drew in a deep breath, standing and tugging your dress down again as you walked over to look through out over the city. You could hear the ringing of phones behind you, the clicking of heels, the chatter of conversation. You were just waiting for his voice, waiting for his bravado to enter before he did, to suck the air out of the room. 

“...What’d he say when you told him?” You asked. 

“I haven't yet. I thought it would be more effective if we told him together.” 

“So not only is he being forced to take my case, but it’s an ambush.” You cast Jessica an unimpressed sidelong glance, brows quirked in disbelief. She simply gave a small shrug. 

“I know my associates.” 

“Mm, I bet.” 

“I understand I was summoned? Have I been so terribly missed? Whaddaya say we play hooky, go to the batting cages?” 

There he was—each question was just punch after punch after punch. Your mouth and throat went dry as your body seemed to divert all available liquid assets to the sweat beginning to wet your palms. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know we had company,” He added. 

“It’s alright. Harvey, you know Mrs. Steven Hayward.” 

Hayward. You had always hated the name. Hell, you couldn’t even believe you’d taken it, but you’d been so damn afraid of putting a foot wrong, wary of having someone change their mind again about marrying you. 

You turned to face Harvey, leaning back against the window and folding your arms across your chest, pressing your slick palms to your sides. It shouldn't have been so vindicating to see Harvey looking so gobsmacked, to watch the color drain from his face as his eyes caught up with his mind—as he came to realize, yes, that Mrs. Steven Hayward. 

“Mr. Specter,” You greeted flatly. 

“I—What’s going on?” 

It’s nice to see you, too. You bit the inside of your cheek to silence your snide remark. 

“Mrs. Hayward needs to dissolve and sell a few of her holdings, and I told her that I had just the lawyer for the job,” Jessica announced. 

“...Is that lawyer in the room with us?” Harvey shook his head a little. 

“You are that lawyer. You’ll be taking the case pro-bono.” 

“Pro—Jessica, those cases are reserved for people that actually need help, not for multi-millionaires.” 

That stung in a way that it shouldn’t have—but he was right. There were surely cases that were more worthy of his attention. Still, you couldn't deny the fact that you needed his help, and that your pockets weren't nearly as deep as they used to be.

“My husband is the multi-millionaire, not me,” You argued. 

“Bullshit.” 

“You wanna see my bank statements? I have a little over three hundred in checking, a few thousand in savings.” 

“Mrs. Hayward needs this resolved as quickly as possible, and without any of your usual pomp and circumstance,” Jessica cut in. 

“Why don’t you do this through a divorce attorney?” Harvey pressed. 

“Because right now, I can’t afford one.” 

Harvey pursed his lips, looking between you and Jessica. You watched his jaw tick, saw the thick bob of his adam’s apple shift his collar a little. 

“You have a list of holdings?” He asked, glancing toward you.

“Twenty,” You nodded. 

“To be chopped up and sold for scraps?” 

“Yes.” 

“Seems a little ruthless for you.” 

“It’s what needs to be done.” 

“And you expect me to do it?” 

“I expect you to do your job. If you can’t get over the fact that it’s for me, then you’re in the wrong business.” 

Harvey’s gaze narrowed, his eyes darkening irritation. Oh, you knew that look—like it or not, you had a flash of it like it was yesterday. 

“...Where’s the file.” 

Jackpot. 

“On the desk.” 

You weren’t about to hand it to him. Hell—you weren’t about to hand anything to Harvey Specter on a silver fucking platter. He walked slowly to Jessica’s desk, eyes dropping to the file that had been thickened with information on each of the holdings. He opened it, gaze scanning your original sheet before flipping a couple of pages. 

“I’ll need time to look this over,” He argued. 

“Obviously.” 

“I’ll call you.” 

“Great.” 

“Number still the same?” 

Bastard. 

“My new number is on the inside of the folder.” 

“Great. Is there anything else that I should know?” 

“Just that Steven and his cadre of sharks will likely stick their noses in the second they smell blood in the water.” 

“We’ll be ready.” 

“Good.” 

Harvey gave you one last look, one long, sweeping, analyzing look before he turned away, striding out of Jessica’s office. You slowly released a long breath, shoulders untensing as he got further and further away. You lowered your hands, shaking them out and blowing cool air across your shaking, sweating palms. 

“Are you sweating?” Jessica asked. 

“Are you not? It’s boiling in here." You yanked your collar away from your neck, fanning over your heating skin.

“You can relax. He took the case.” 

“Because he had to, not because he wanted to.” 

“He’ll get over it, and he’ll do his job.” 

“He’s such a grumpy asshole,” You sighed, walking over to the chair that you’d left your jacket and bag on. “But if you say you’re gonna keep him on the straight and narrow—”

“I will—” 

“—Then I believe you. I’ve gotta go.” 

“Where to?” 

“I have to go look at an apartment.” 

“Work never ends.” 

“This is personal. I need to find a new place. I've been in a hotel for the last few nights, and I can't afford to keep that up."

“Don’t you own your place?”

You shook your head, averting your gaze as you pulled on your coat. 

“The penthouse is in Steven’s name.” 

You’d had a few hours to forget the weight of Jessica’s judgement, but you felt it again in full force as she shook her head. 

“...I thought you were smarter than this,” She said after a moment. 

You looked toward Jessica, giving her a small, weak smile. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Do you want me to call you a car? On the firm, of course.” 

“No! No, but thanks. I should reacquaint myself with the subway. I’m going to be using it more often.” 

-- 

You managed to hold it together until the real estate agent gave you a moment to ‘get a better sense of the space’. She clearly had no idea who you were, which was a boon, and hardly looked away from her phone as she waved with one hand and typed with the other thumb. You turned to look around, heard the snick of the door closing, and just…Lost it. 

Your tears poured out like someone had reached into your head and turned on a faucet. You buried your face into your hands, uncaring of the fact that your makeup was going to run together. You’d given eleven years of your life to a man that was throwing you to the wolves, as if you’d never meant a thing to him at all—as if you hadn’t put your blood, sweat, and tears into building his empire—into what you had once thought was your empire, too. 

And what the hell did you have to show for it? You stood in a $3,200 392 square foot studio apartment of a six-floor walk-up in the West Village, wearing a $4,900 dress, standing in $600 shoes, a your $1,200 purse shifting on your arm as your shoulders shook with sobs. 

You sniffled roughly, chest hiccuping tightly as you finally began to calm. You reached into your purse, drawing out a compact and flipping it open. You swiped at your run makeup, taking up the pressed powder puff and dabbing beneath your eyes, and over the tear tracks in your foundation. God, just pull it together for the snot-nosed realtor outside. Tell her that you wanted to take it, get the keys, and start figuring out how you could get your things from Steven. You would need to make money in the meantime.

You looked down, shifting rocking back on your heels to get a better look at your shoes. 

You never did love this outfit, and you couldn’t have worn it more than twice. Resale couldn’t be too far below purchase, could it? Come to think of it, you had closets full of hardly worn designer outfits at the penthouse. You looked around the studio. You could spring for a few wheeled clothing racks, find a few reputable resellers. You could get good money for your dresses, your shoes, probably even more for the jewelry that you almost certainly wouldn’t be keeping. Steven always had brought you home a trinket from the trips that he frequently took without you—beautiful gems that you knew now were trinkets for guilt, or something like it. You were almost certain Steven didn’t really feel guilt, but he could play-act at it well enough. 

But you didn’t have to worry about that at that moment. And as soon as Steven did rear his ugly head, he would have Harvey to deal with. Considering your history, that shouldn't have been a very comfortable thought—but you had Harvey and Jessica in your corner.  

You closed your eyes and drew in a deep breath, deeper than you were able to draw before. You held it for one...two...three...And pushed it out slowly as your heated face began to cool.

Deal with the realtor first. Sign the lease, get the keys, and start getting your life back together. 

--  

“This isn’t going to be an easy one," Harvey warned. 

“Of course it isn’t. If it was, you wouldn’t have agreed to take the case.” 

“I didn’t take it, it was given to me.” 

“You poor thing.”

It left you without any sympathy, your gaze stone-heavy as you watched him. He narrowed his eyes, a smile set in place as he rocked back and forth in his chair. He tapped his pen on his lips for a moment before he rocked fully forward. You watched his gaze skate across the file in front of him. 

“The way I see it, there are four easy wins here,” He turned the file toward you, and you scooted forward in your seat to get a better look at them. “The two apartment buildings on the upper East Side, the one in the Village, and the brownstone in Park Slope. We can hack away at the other sixteen down the road, but we should move on these.” 

“Okay.” 

“The easiest win is going to be in the Slope. The assessed value is…” His brows furrowed, and he leaned over the file and squinted, as if he wasn’t quite seeing the number correctly. 

“Seven million?” You filled in. Harvey’s gaze darted to yours, brows raised. 

“Nice chunk of change.” 

“I want it listed for ten.” 

“That may be a little unrealistic.” 

“I’m looking for 8.5 in cash, if possible, so I’m expecting some haggling. I already told the broker as much.” 

“Alright. Which of these buildings are you staying in?” 

“I’m not staying in any of them.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m not staying in any of them.” 

“Why is that?” 

“I’m pairing down, staying somewhere else.” 

“You could stay in any of these rent-free.” 

“The HOA and utilities are more than I can afford right now.” 

“We could bake the HOA into the contract.” 

“If Steven found out I was staying in any of them, he’d find a way to tank the deal from the outside.” 

Harvey’s expression tightened a little before he nodded: “Fine. I’ll need your new address for the paperwork.”

“May I use your pen, please?” 

Harvey pushed the file closer, passing the pen with it. You could feel him watching you as you jotted down your address, name, and number. Harvey draws the file back to himself, sweeping over the information. 

“Keeping your married name?” 

“I’ve put in the paperwork to change it, but that could take at least a couple of months.” 

“I have a friend that clerks for the Supreme Court of New York, I could put in a word.” 

“That’s a kind offer but don’t worry about it. Is there anything else that we need to discuss today?” 

“No, that about covers it. I’ll call you if our real estate department or my associate comes across anything that could be beneficial to your situation.” 

“I may have just uncovered something.” 

You turned at the sound of a new voice, catching sight of a young man standing in the doorway. 

“This is Mike Ross, my associate,” Harvey introduced, standing and holding a hand out toward Mike. “Mike Ross, this is Mrs. Steven Hayward.” 

Your name left him with a vinegary annoyance that you’d been hoping would be absent from this meeting. You stood, holding out your hand and offering Mike your first name. 

“Would you prefer to be, uh..." Mike’s gaze darted between you and Harvey. 

“I’d prefer you not to use my married name, if possible.”

“Got it. So,” Mike stepped between you and Harvey, opening the file that he was holding. “I’ve found an additional six properties where your name is the only one on the lease.” 

You frowned, brow furrowing as you stepped closer to get a look at the file. “That can’t be right.” 

“If Mike found it, it’s right.” There was an irritated thread of steel in Harvey’s tone, and you shot him a scathing glance. 

“The comment was one of surprise, not distrust.”

“Maybe next time you can keep your surprise to yourself and let my associate speak.”

“Just like you’re letting him speak right now?” 

Harvey’s jaw went tight, and you raised your brows as a knowing smirk curled your lips before you turned back to Mike and nodded: 

“You were saying?” 

Mike’s expression was riddled with confusion, but he snapped back into action. 

“Right—There are, uh…Three complexes in downtown Brooklyn,” He shifted through the stack of papers and drew out photos. “They were gutted for renovation, but work was stopped before any further changes could be made. They cited funding concerns.” 

That really couldn’t be right. Steven was rolling in cash like a pig in shit. You took hold of the photos, frown deepening as you got a better look at them. 

“What is it?” Harvey pressed. 

“I don’t recognize any of these.” You flipped to the next one, then the next. The walls in all of them had been stripped; the floors were torn up; the wiring of the ceiling was exposed. 

“What about the other three?” You pressed. 

“Uh—One house in the Hamptons, one in Cape Cod, and one in Gstaad.” 

“You’re kidding,” You said flatly, looking at MIke. 

“I am not. I take it you don’t know about any of those, either?” 

“Not a one.”

“Would you want any of them?” 

“Maybe Cape Cod.” 

“Not Gstaad?” Harvey asked. 

“Mm, not worth it. I don’t know how to ski.” 

“Still?”

You rolled your eyes pointedly before you nodded back to Mike’s file. “Do you have the paperwork for the properties?” “Yeah, it’s, uh…” He set the file down, sifting through for the paper clipped documents and lining them up on Harvey's desk. “These are…All of them…Separated out by property.” 

You went down the line, flipping through each of the pages and growing more and more frantic as you did. 

“None of these are my signature.” 

“He would’ve closed through a title company, I can hunt that down,” Mike commented to Harvey. 

“We can throw these on the list of what needs to be sold, or put them in a living trust,” Harvey offered.

“...I don't know,” You leaned away, shaking your head. You felt so unsettled; after the rapid upheaval of your life over the last week you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. After this, you had to worry about the divorce, the tabloids, whatever the fuck else you were going to do with your life—You felt your throat going tight with tears, and you cleared your throat harshly, trying to dispel some of the feeling. “If they were good investments, Steven would’ve used his name on them.” 

“All the more reason for you to ditch them.” 

“I want them inspected first. I’m not throwing these on the market until I know what the hell I’m dealing with.” 

“We can take care of that,” Mike promised. You nodded, glancing toward him and offering a tight, grateful smile. 

“Not that you’re paying us to.” 

Harvey’s snide reminder was like having a bucket of cold water poured over you. Your hands curled into fists where they rested on your hips. You were just on the edge of slapping the guy—

“You can deal with me directly,” You offered Mike. “My number’s in the file. Thank you, for—” You waved your hand toward the file. “Uncovering this. I appreciate it.” You took up your purse and threw your coat over your arm, trying to hold back your rapidly rising tears as your face flooded with heat. 

“You’re just going to go?” Harvey asked. 

“It’s always worked for you pretty well,” You snapped. “Figured I’d give it a try.” You stormed out without another word, keeping your gaze staunchly set on the floor that you desperately wanted to sink through. 

--  

“I have…So many questions right now,” Mike shook his head as he watched Mrs. Hayward stride toward the elevators. 

“You know where to start. Get the inspections lined up, and then start prepping the filings for forgery—” 

“Harvey,” Mike raised his hands, chuckling with shock. “What—Was that?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, please. The whole ‘if Mike found it it’s right’?” 

“Well, that’s true.” 

“That thing about her still not being able to ski? How do you know her?” 

“We’ve met, that’s all.” 

“It’s obviously more than that.” Mike searched Harvey’s gaze for a few moments. “C’mon, what’s your deal?” 

Harvey considered for a moment, his jaw working before he nodded to the right. “Close the door.” 

He lowered himself into his seat as Mike did as he asked, then turned back to him. 

“Mrs. Hayward and I…” Harvey’s expression tightened as he struggled with it. “We were…Involved for a while.” 

“While she was married?” 

“Before.” 

“How involved?” 

“We were engaged.” 

Mike’s eyes widened drastically, his brows making a jump toward his hairline. “En—What?” He laughed breathlessly. “The great Harvey Specter was almost nailed by that ice queen?” 

“Watch it,” Harvey warned; he was stunned as he felt a flair of protectiveness bloom in his chest. “She wasn’t always like that.” He glanced toward the property statements at the front of his desk, and he thought of the dismayed twist of her features. When she’d met his gaze, her eyes had been bright with tears. Maybe that was his fault, at least a little. He should’ve watched his tone a little more. He had surely made her cry enough, years ago. 

“What happened?” Mike pressed.

“I wasn’t ready.” 

“You broke it off?”

“...Something like that.” 

Harvey’s gaze flitted nervously toward Mike, and he could practically hear the wheels turning overtime in his head. It only took a moment before Mike’s eyes managed to widen further, his jaw dropping open in shock. 

“Oh my—There is no way.”

“I’m not proud of it,” Harvey raised a hand to stop Mike’s incredulous questioning. 

“Let me just make sure I’m on the same page here,” Mike shook his head. “You left her at the altar, she married this guy, and now you’re…Making jokes about the fact that she can’t ski or afford a lawyer?” 

Harvey’s heart sank into his stomach as he cut an irritated gaze across the desk. 

“I’m not proud of that, either.” 

“Didn’t stop you, though, did it.” 

“Are you finished with your lecture? Because you have a lot of work to do.” 

“On it,” Mike nodded, hopping out of his seat and restacking the paperwork into the file. 

“While you’re at it, keep your ear to the ground on that Park Slope property. The sooner the wheels are turning on that, the better. Use that number,” He tapped the file, “To call her, and send any documents to that address.” 

“Understood.” 

Harvey listened to Mike’s retreating footsteps as he twisted back and forth in his seat, restless in his discomfort. He pushed himself out of his seat in annoyance, unable to stand sitting anymore. Why had he shot his mouth off at her like that? He knew that she was going through it. He just figured when he’d first seen her in Jessica’s office that this situation wouldn’t be quite so hellish.

Steven Hayward was a billionaire, a former Forbes 30 Under 30 recipient. Harvey had done his digging when the engagement had first been announced—just a few months after Harvey had made the decision not to marry her. He’d assumed then that if she’d moved on so quickly, she couldn’t have loved him much in the first place, and the idea had solidified his decision not to go through with their wedding. 

Harvey had done his best to put her out of his mind, and he’d succeeded for the most part. But when Jessica had thrown this case at him, he’d gone back, done some more digging. There were so many resources about Steven Hayward from the last decade—interviews, profiles, filings. In all of them, Steven came off as a self-assured, cocky, pompous asshat, but a decent strategist. Those same profiles had described Mrs. Hayward as the trophy wife, the little woman behind the man, tending to the arrangements for their multi-million, 3,000 square foot penthouse overlooking Central Park. For as much as Harvey had forced himself to forget about her, he couldn’t forget her spirit, her determination, her desire to build a life, not to be handed one. None of the credit was given to her. None of the glory, none of the acknowledgement of what Harvey was certain were her blood, sweat and tears in that man’s holdings. 

The tears that she had seemed set to shed in his office were all the indication that Harvey needed. He scrubbed his hand across his face, trying to compose himself as he pushed the wounded memory of her away. 

Even footing. He needed to get the two of them on some kind of even footing. Every conversation couldn’t be a fight—it would just slow the both of them down. The sooner they sorted this out, the sooner they’d be out of one another’s hair. 

“Donna!” He called out, turning toward the door. Donna popped her head in a moment later, brows raised expectantly. “I need you to look an address up for me.”

“It’s in the West Village.” 

Harvey’s mouth worked wordlessly for a couple of seconds before he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Mike?” 

“You shouldn’t have hired a super genius if you didn’t want him using that big brain.” 

“I was hoping he would use it for good, not evil.” 

“Oh, trust me, he is. Anything else?” 

“Lunch?” 

“It’s on the way.”

Of course it was. 

-- 

“This is everything?” 

“Yes. I checked and double-checked the list that you gave me before I left.” 

You nodded, planting your hands on your hips and looking over six industrial-sized trash bags that contained what you hoped were your tide-over funds. 

“The jewelry’s in there, too?” 

“Hey,” Aaron stepped closer to you, resting his hand on your shoulder. “When I say I got everything, I mean I got everything. I was this close to snagging a couple of light fixtures.” 

You laughed a little, nodding and leaning into the touch a little. You’d worked with Aaron Delaney for over five years at Hayward Realty. You’d hoped that he wouldn’t be in Steven’s camp in the divorce, and when you’d reached out to find out when Steven would definitely be at the office, Aaron had quickly jumped on your bandwagon. It had taken nearly three weeks, but he had come through. Not only had he told you when Steven would be out, but he’d offered to go into the apartment and get things for you. You hadn’t heard a thing from Mike in a couple of weeks, so you could only hope that everything was going smoothly on his end, but these bags would go a long way to bolstering your bitten budget. 

“You want my help cataloging it?” He offered. You shook your head a little. 

“No, god, you've done enough—and helped me lug this up six flights. Besides, Steven will be suspicious if you’re out of the office for too long—you’re too good an employee to be out of pocket for more than a few minutes. But if you’d like to be enlisted in mole duty going forward, I’m gonna need you to have your ear to the ground over there.” 

“You’ve got it.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Text me if you need anything.” 

“Will do, yeah. And thanks again, Aaron. Seriously.” 

“Keep your chin up, hon.” 

“Yeah,” You mumbled, turning back to the trash bags as Aaron headed for the door. God, you didn’t even know what was where. It was probably best to just go bag by bag, and hope all of the suits were together. You could hang the outfits up, take a picture, post it on the app that you were using to resell your luxury clothing. You could—and probably would—keep at least a couple of things for yourself, but you couldn’t go crazy. You’d need suits for your divorce settlement, and possibly for court…And for whatever the hell you wound up doing once this was all over. 

Because it would be over, eventually. There was a life for you on the other side of all of this, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. Things would get easier, but right now, it all just…Fucking sucked. You had moved the few things that you had into the studio apartment, including your dresser, a bookshelf, a few books, and your favorite Eames lounge chair and reading lamp. You’d had to get a new bed—a full was all that you could use without overwhelming the space; you got a metal frame on Amazon that would get the job done, and you’d bought and built three racks for your clothing. You still hadn’t found an affordable couch, but you had found a nice oak grain bedside table on the sidewalk, with a handwritten looseleaf sign taped to it that read, FREE!!

You hadn’t had the chance to paint or put any personalizing touches on the space besides your furniture—no art, or knick knacks. The space was nearing functional, but you were certain that unpacking all of your clothing was going to make that a hell of a lot more difficult. 

You crouched down in front of the first bag, untying it and opening it. You could see some Scanlan Theodore, some Tuckernuck, some Bergdorf Goodman. This bag was already pretty promising. You sighed, taking the first dress out and wafting the fabric out. It didn’t need to be ironed or steamed, which was a blessing. You were already dreading how long this was going to take, but hell, at least it would give you something to do that wasn’t staring down the barrel of your dead-end future—

Okay. Okay, so not helpful, so not the time. You reached into your pocket, pulling your phone out of your pocket to find a podcast to listen to. There had to be something that you could listen to that would distract you from the monotony of filing and sorting your clothing out. You settled on one of your favorites before you began sorting through the first bag. You were right—a couple of Scanlans, two Tuckernucks, three Bergdorf Goodman’s–

Your sorting was interrupted by a knock on your door. You frowned, pushing yourself up. What else could be left? It had to be good if Aaron had lugged something else up six floors. You pushed yourself off of the floor, brushing the dust off of your sweatpants. 

“Alright, Delaney, what’d you forget?” You asked as you approached the door and tugged it open. 

The sight of Harvey Specter standing on your doorstep made your stomach want to violently unseat your lunch. His gaze swept over you critically, taking sight of you in your comfy clothes. Between the ratty old shirt, the sweats, and your fluffy socks, you were a far, far cry from the way that he’d become accustomed to seeing you in his office. 

“Can I, uh…” He peered over your shoulder, nodding inside. “Can I come in?” 

“I thought I was going to be hearing from Mr. Ross.” 

“Mike is busy, and we need to talk.” 

You couldn’t imagine what the hell you and Harvey needed to talk about. You didn’t want to let him in; you knew that what Harvey was about to see wasn’t what he was surely expecting. Your grip tightened on the handle before you drew in a deep breath nodding, “Sure.”

It was worse than you imagined. Harvey hardly got two steps inside before he stopped fully. Well, to be fair, there wasn’t a ton of space for him to wander around and explore; between the bed, the armchair, and the trash bags, there wasn’t much room for him to move around. You shut the door and pointedly cleared your throat, trying to jog him from his shock. As he faced you again, you could see him trying to mask his surprise, his brows drawing down over his eyes as he turned to a file in his hand. 

“You have an offer on the Park Slope house.”

“Why didn’t I get a call from my broker?” 

“I asked to deliver the news myself.” 

You frowned a little, taking hold of the file and flipping it open. Your eyes widened at the sight of a check paperclipped to the top of the files—for frighteningly beneath asking price. 

“I said I wanted it in cash.” 

“...I know that,” Harvey spoke slowly, as if he was dealing with a particularly difficult and over-caffeinated child. “That is a good faith deposit from the buyer.” 

“They’ve signed?” Your hands tighten around the file as your stomach flipped with excitement. “I didn’t ask my broker for a good faith deposit.” 

“No, I had it baked into the contract.” 

Your gaze flitted to Harvey, annoyance and admiration growing in equal measure. 

“I…Appreciate that,” You finally managed. “But in the future, please run any changes like that by me before you speak to my broker.” 

Harvey nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Understood.” 

“Thanks.” You closed to file, certain that if you didn’t, you’d just spend your time staring at the check—at your first lifeline in this whole mess. “Anything else?” 

“We need to get on a more even footing.” 

“...I don’t know what you mean.” 

Harvey gave you a chastising frown, one that would’ve made you wilt long ago—but now, you simply shook your head and shrugged. 

“I don’t,” You insisted. “Unless you mean that you’ll stop out your thinly veiled barbs about what you think you know about me.” 

“I remember more than you think.” 

“I’m not the woman that you left at the altar, Harvey.” Your admission and reminder left a bitter taste in your mouth. You had to force yourself to hold his gaze, even as his expression flooded with discomfort. You could see him desperately trying to push it away as his retort bubbled up:  

“And I’m not the man that left you there!”

“No?” You laughed openly. “Because this all looks pretty fucking familiar. You’re a shark, Harvey, and you’re a dick. Lucky for the both of us, that’s exactly what I need you to be right now.”

Harvey’s jaw tightened, and you could see his hands curling into fists before he shoved them into his pockets.

“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear,” He seethed, taking a small step closer, “What I do for you over the course of this case is purely because of my reputation in this city. I’m going to do my damndest to get you the best out of all of these properties, but do not think for a moment that the job I do comes from any interest, any compassion, anything worth a damn.”

“What compassion? Anyone with compassion would’ve at least had the grace to do better than a goddamn post-it note in my bridal suite that just said ‘sorry’. It didn't even look like your handwriting!” You loosed a hysterical laugh that had been building in your throat as he spoke. “Or did you not even want that in there? Maybe one of my bridesmaids scrawled it to keep me from just throwing myself off the fucking roof!”

Harvey’s expression flickered again, and you saw some of the color drain from his annoyance-flushed cheeks. You turned away, stomach roiling with embarrassment and irritation.

“Thanks for the file,” You managed, forcing a steadiness into your tone. “Going forward, I really do think it’s for the best that you communicate with me through Mr. Ross.”

“Gladly. Have a nice day, Mrs. Hayward.”

Three long strides, the creak of the door opening, and then slamming shut. You flinched at the sound, fingers tightening around the file, trying to focus on the check.

One hundred thousand dollars was an amazing start. One hundred thousand dollars could go toward your rent, your expenses, buy you some time. Maybe you could get a nice bottle of gin—or a couple of the cheap bottles the size of your head, the stuff that tasted like paint thinner and knocked you flat on your ass until morning.

Maybe you could sell your clothing during the day and quietly slip into oblivion in the evening. You had nothing better to do with your nights. Almost none of your so-called friends had reached out after the news had broken—likely making the choice to side with Steven. He was the one that still had the money, of course, the position in society. His name was on the door, not yours.

Your name was on a 12 month lease, and on a check for one hundred thousand dollars.

sorry

Lowercase, hurriedly scrawled, ink smudged. You could still see the slightly crumpled post-it that had been sitting on your honeymoon suite vanity when you’d returned after waiting at the back of the venue for almost an hour. 

Harvey hadn’t copped to writing it. Maybe he didn’t want to—or maybe he really didn’t write it. Maybe he wasn’t sorry. Maybe he saw the shitshow that your life had become and was glad that he’d gotten out early.

You glanced around the apartment, eyeing the row of trash bags, the rickety furniture. At this moment, you couldn’t blame him.

You tossed the file onto your bedside table before walking back to the trash bags. Bag by bag, then steam what needed to be steam, then sort by brand. Plan of attack. You could get that man out of your head.

That man—which one was worse to think about just now—Steven or Harvey?

You shook your head, forcing yourself to dismiss both of them for the morning. You didn’t have any more time for what could’ve been’s. You had here, you had now.

And you had shit to do.

--

“Okay, two things,” Mike announced as he rounded into Harvey’s office. “One, the purchase agreement for the brownstone is signed and the payment is on the way to her bank account. There’s also an offer for the apartment building in the upper East Side. Two—“

“What do you mean, two?” Harvey frowned. “That’s already two things.”

“Fine, three—“

“Super genius and he can’t even count—“

“I got six emails from Steven Hayward’s representation this morning, disputing ownership of all of the twenty original flagged properties.”

“Damnit,” Harvey hissed. “Even the houses she didn’t know about?”

“No, so far, they’ve been conspicuously left off of the list.”

“Where are we with those inspections?”

“In progress, should hear back by the end of the week.”

“Good.”

Mike nodded, and Harvey returned his attention to his laptop. At least, he did until he realized that Mike hadn’t left the room.

“Something else that you need to say?” Harvey prodded.

“Aren’t you going to ask how she is?”

“Why would I need to know that?”

“Come on, Harvey.”

“She’s a client, Mike.”

“A client that you were going to marry!”

“And I didn’t marry her. What do you think that says about my wealth of feeling for her?”

Mike sighed heavily through his nose, muttering, “Alright.” He began to turn away, heading for the door. “Well, if you had asked, I would’ve told you that she’s putting on a brave face, but she’s getting to the end of her rope.”

“Well I didn’t ask, but thank you for that poetic and poignant diagnosis.”

--

“You have to go.”

“Of all of my priorities right now, the gala is not one of them,” You insisted. “I’ve got about a hundred more urgent matters right now.”

“Make this one,” Jessica insisted, leaning back against her desk, her arms folding across her chest. “You know how badly you’ll be lampooned if you don't turn up.”

“And I’ll be lampooned if I do show up. Besides, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Wear something you’ve worn before.”

“I don’t have most of those pieces anymore.”

“Then rent something.”

“You do remember that Steven is being honored this year?” 

“All the more reason for you to show your face.” 

“Jessica—“

“What’s your plan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your plan—when this is all over? Are you going to go back into real estate?”

“…It’s crossed my mind.”

“You know that they will never let you back in if you slink out the back door and try to come in through the front again. They’ve rescinded your keys, honey. May as well stay in the house as long as you can.”

“This metaphor is beginning to exhaust me.”

Jessica grinned. “I better see your name on the RSVP list by the end of the day.”

“Since when do you have access to that information?”

“I have my sources.”

You heard two knocks, followed by the increasingly comforting sound of Mike’s voice: “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Jessica waved him inside. “I’m hoping for a fruitful update.”

“Well,” Mike gave a small, nervous smile as he joined the two of you. “The good news is that purchase for the brownstone is moving through the channels, and there are interested buyers for the upper East Side apartment building. Unfortunately —“ The word made your gut swoop. “—Your ex-husband has come out of the woodwork. He’s trying to stake a claim on the properties, and on a hold co. We’re monitoring the situation,” Mike added before either you or Jessica could speak, “But I wanted to make you aware of what you could be facing sometime soon.”

You nodded, wringing your hands where they were folded in your lap.

“I appreciate the update.”

“Of course.”

“Why isn’t Harvey relaying this to me himself?” Jessica frowned. You raised your brows, glancing toward Mike, and fighting back a wave of amusement at his blatant deer-in-headlines expression.

“He had a—meeting,” He flubbed before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I should, uh–” 

Jessica’s brows raise skeptically, but she nods, and you bite back a laugh as Mike leaves the room with a measured hurry. 

“...Why do I have the feeling that the two of you are keeping something from me?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” You shrugged, pushing yourself out of your seat. “Now if you excuse me, I have some clothes to package—” 

“And a gala outfit to find. I understand.” 

You turned from Jessica’s smug grin, rolling your eyes as she tacked on, 

“And don’t forget to get your nails done!”

You rounded out of the office, pulling up short as you slammed into someone. 

“Oh! Fuck, sorry!” You breathed as their hands landed on your hips to steady you. 

“...Don’t worry about it.” Harvey’s flat tone turned your stomach. You cleared your throat, stepping back and out of his hands. 

“I’ll watch where I’m going.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

You gave a firm nod as you skirted around him, face flooding with embarrassed heat as you strode toward the elevators. 

-- 

The gala. You’d completely forgotten about the gala until Jessica had brought it up. Six months ago, planning the evening had been the center of your world. You’d put a deposit down for a custom dress, had it fitted. Steven had asked you to coordinate a cocktail party for the two hours beforehand—an intimate gathering for 150 of your closest friends and associates. You sighed, leaning back against the hard subway seat and gazing at your appearance in the window opposite you. 

You could just see it now—the who’s who of New York’s real estate scene all swanning up to the penthouse, lounging fashionably, eating the hors d'oeuvres that you’d chosen and drinking the champagne that you’d ordered by the case…

…The champagne that you had ordered…

Come to think of it, those contracts all had your name on them, your contact information. Steven hadn’t been involved with a damn thing, save for the use of his credit card to put down deposits. He never did—he expected you to handle all of the coordination on the day as well; he would swan in an hour after the party started and do his scant duties as the host.

A devilish grin curled your lips. You were sure you still had all of the confirmations in your email. You could cancel all of it—the ice sculpture, the caterer, the champagne…Well, maybe you could divert one case to your new apartment, and cancel the rest. 

Oh, you could really see it now—Steven seething as he frantically checked his emails for any hint of vendors, any phone number or email that he could call to find out what the hell happened to the party that was to-be. You were certain that the tailor still had your dress—and you had a check for a hundred thousand dollars that you could dip into for a manicure. 

You stood as the train pulled into your station. You were suddenly looking forward to the gala.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @gina239 ; @technicallykawaiisoul ; @coldheart-lonelysoul ; @kathrinemelissa ; @jacxx2 ; @pillowjj ; @chanaaaannel ; @avampirescholar ; @kmc1989

[willows-peak]

*･ﾟ✧ Sharing Is Caring

tags: fem! reader, like a sprinkle of porn with plot, movie night, implied satosugu, dirty talk, its just all dirty talk, geto is thick asf, geto is fucking you in gojo's lap, petnames (baby, princess, sweetheart, honey, pretty girl)

MDNI

word count: 2k

a/n: i was in the mood to write dirty talk passed out then this appeared on my screen

⋆｡˚ ♡ Tonight really had started simple, with you coming over to Geto's apartment for a movie night, only to be surprised by Gojo greeting you at the door. And while you were always happy to see him as well, you've noticed that the two could get a little… Competitive with you. It was common knowledge that the two of them had a crush on you, and you did with them. Instead of the three of you saying anything out loud, the two men had turned it into a game of sorts on who could be the center of attention when you were with them. 

Thankfully, their competitions were never too serious nor staked on anything. Simple couples banter half the time, with the winner only earning bragging rights. So, of course you'd assumed tonight would be the same, when Geto started rolling his eyes when a sex scene came onto the movie you three had picked. “She's not even enjoying that, come on.” He'd scoff, hand underneath his chin and elbow resting on his thigh. 

“Oh yeah, right there!!” Gojo called out mockingly, earning a laugh from Geto while you sat silently. You couldn't exactly tell what she was doing ‘bad’ at, if you were being honest. “Is she really that bad at acting?” You chirped up, making both of them nod simultaneously. “No girl is ever that loud, trust me.” Geto confirmed, turning his body to face you and Gojo. You smiled up at him at how swiftly he shut your questioning down “You seem awfully confident with that, you almost made me think you've ever gotten pussy.”

Geto raised his brows at you, raising his head from his hand and leaning back on the couch, eyes shifting from your lips to your eyes before speaking up. “I haven't? That's funny, I didn't know you were a liar. Does she lie like that to you too, Satoru?” Geto chimed, smiling coyly over at the white haired boy. “Damn, she caught you red handed Sugu’.” Geto rolled his eyes before meeting your faze once again “I know what I'm talking about when I say that she's not getting fucked good.”

His tone, while the same as it was earlier, carried a certain weight to it when he said that. His smile failed to meet his eyes, which were staring straight through you as he watched for your reaction. A million things came and went by in your mind as you stared back at him, feeling frozen under him by how he looked at you. “She doesn't look too convinced.” Gojo laughed.

There really wasn't a good way of responding to him, was there? He said it so plainly, like it was a given fact, that you couldn't come up with anything to actually go against him. Well, one thing did come to mind, though it wasn't going to be your best work. 

“Prove it.”

.

You didn't mean to come across so bluntly with what you said, but it was too late to take it back. And from the grin that made its way onto Geto's face, you have a sneaking suspicion that that's what he wanted you to say.

Which led to right now. Where Gojo was keeping you snug in his lap, your bare back against his steadily rising and falling chest. His fingers spreading your pussy apart for the man in front of you two, who was so slowly grinding himself against you, hands sturdying on your hips. Gojo's middle finger slowly stroked your clit in rhythm with Geto's grinds, your resulting whimpers making the two men chuckle.

"Stop teasin’ her, Suguru.." Gojo spoke quietly, not wanting to tarnish the silent scene in front of him with his voice. Geto grinned up at him and angled his hips back, just enough for the tip of his cock to press against your hole. "Don't tell me how to fuck, Satoru" He shot back, watching how you squirm under him as he pushes himself inside of you, agonizingly slow. 

Inch by inch, you could feel yourself stretching to accommodate his size. Your hands came to grip at Gojo's thighs as you took your time getting used to Geto inside you. Gojo muttered curses under his breath as he watched Geto disappear inside of you, his cock being replaced by a small bulge at the bottom of your stomach. "I know, baby, I know. It feels like he’s fuckin' tearing you open the first time, doesnt it?" Gojo pressed the finger on your clit down more as he whispered, making your pussy tighten around the last inch of Geto. "That's right, gooood giiirrrl....I knew you could do it." Geto cooed, tipping your chin up to meet his eyes.

You shivered from his gaze, intense and relishing in the doe-ish look you had on you. "How's he feel, princess?" Gojo asked, smile audible when you made a broken moan in response. "S’ big.." You whined, sucking in air through your teeth as Geto pulled his hips back. "Fuck me, you're tight.." Geto stumbled out, your pussy almost choking out his cock if he so much as twitched. 

"Relax, honey, you're doing so good.. Just breathe with me, in and out." His tone was so soft, so easy to follow that you found your body obeying before your mind could catch up. He let out a low laugh as he watched your chest shakily fall up and down, feeling his dick grow harder at your obedience. 

"Innn and out, pretty girl, don't stop." Geto praised, moving his hand down your body to right below your stomach as he started thrusting, in time with your breathing. You gasped as he moved, his hips smooth and deep and just enough to make your head feel full of air. 

Your voice stumbled clumsily out of your mouth, moaning and panting from his thickness. "Shit..." Gojo whispered, his dick throbbing up against the restraints of his pajama pants (why did he have them on still? It may or may not be because he was too eager to see your naked body that he has the sense to strip himself) 

He continued whispering swears and encouragements to you as he squeezed his fingers inwards, around Geto's cock shifting out of you. Geto's slow and deep pace was no longer so gentle, every thrust inside you coming fast and hard, your body lighting up with sensitivity and pleasure before he'd take his time pulling out of you. 

It was difficult to think, much less speak at the rhythm he was moving inside you, especially with Gojo's own moans filling your ear, his fingers now rubbing quick circles against your clit. You could feel his cock humping up against your ass, too, a light wet spot beginning to form at the point where his dick grinded against his pants. 

"So good for us, shit- makin' me sweat for this pussy...come on sweetheart, lemme show you how good you can feel" Geto's husky and smooth voice was almost lost on your ears, your mind torn between focusing on Gojo behind you, or the way you could feel every vein and bump and how deliciously they were rubbing right against your walls. 

You nodded dumbly, not bothering to ask what he meant and just wanting this to get better. Geto's smile grew wider at your eagerness, shifting his hand to squeeze at the flesh of your ass before lifting your hips up, your upper half falling back against Gojo's chest and making your tummy squish against itself.

Gojo let out a low groan at how much your pussy stretched around Geto, a thin ring of cream beginning to form around the base of his dick and sticking to the thin hairs decorating his lower stomach. "Make her cum, Satoru, want you to watch her squirt" Geto said, his tone breathless as he spread his thighs apart. 

"Don't tell me what to do, Suguru" Gojo mocked, a cheeky smile finding its way to his lips when Geto gave him an unamused stare. Geto's eyes fell back onto where the two of you met, biting his lip and blowing out a breath before reeling his hips back, a loud slap of skin echoing through the room as he thrusted back into you. 

You yelped as he squeezed your ass again, yanking your hips forward to meet his thrusts, sweat starting to form over your body from the heat between Geto and Gojo. Gojo, who was bringing you quicker and quicker to orgasm with his lithe fingers rubbing expert circles around your clit while pumping his leaking cock inside his pants, and Geto, who was fucking you so deep and making your breath catch so much that you could feel yourself getting dizzy. 

You could feel yourself growing tense, your orgasm feeling so close yet so far as Geto's cock was taking over any conscious thought you could hope to have. "That’s right, take this fucking dick, like you're made to-" He grunted out, feeling your pussy tighten sporadically.

"You close baby? Shit- Yeah you are, pussy's trying to keep me in... Cum for me, make a fucking mess for us-" Geto egged on, hips angling up to aim his thrusts against your g-spot. You gasped and moaned loudly, feeling the tightness in your belly finally break as your orgasm flooded your senses entirely. You whined and squeaked helplessly as your pussy throbbed harshly, wave after wave of pleasure consuming you as neither Geto's hips nor Gojo's fingers slowed or stopped. You couldn't even try to muffle yourself, your arms shaking too hard against Gojo's thighs as you came around Geto. 

Gojo's orgasm seemed to come almost immediately after yours started to simmer down, his eyes locking with the growing mess on Geto's stomach and the drips of cum falling down his balls to the bed sheets underneath you two. 

"Fuck yes, take his fucking cock baby, oh my g-god yes-" Gojo sloppily stammered, the orgasm making his body fold into itself as his cum covered his hand. Your eyes began to roll back into your skull from how expertly they were seeming to break you down, your pussy feeling looser and impossibly wetter to Geto.

 "Keep moaning, princess, say my fucking name- Just like that, make me cum inside this pussy" Sweat was forming and dripping down his brow from the strain it took to keep going, his abs clenching and his thighs tensing as his hips moved at a quick and hard pace. Gojo, mercifully, stopped his onslaught on your clit and instead let his hand travel downwards to where Geto was fucking you. 

His fingers collected some of your cum and wetness mixed together, using it as lube to stroke the now bulging vein that sat underneath of Geto's cock. "Cum inside her, make her know who's pussy this is, Suguru-" Gojo was almost pleading from his tone, still reeling from the orgasm he gave himself and how his cock was half hard already from your loud moans and whimpers. 

Geto could barely make another buck into you before he came, hard, inside you. His hips came slamming down into you as rope after rope of cum emptied inside you, your body slowly coming back to reality and focusing on the warmth filling you. You could feel the way his balls emptied below your hole, where they rested as Geto sloppily rode out his orgasm, twitching and thrusting himself as deep as possible inside your welcoming pussy, before pulling out slowly.

You whimpered breathily as you felt the veins of his cock dragging out against your sensitive walls, weakly tightening around his softening cock. “Come on baby, don’ be greedy..” Geto spoke, low and smooth as he rubbed his thumb across your cheek gently. Two other hands came to wrap around your middle as you relaxed against Geto's hand, your stomach and waist being caressed tenderly. “Did so well, sweetheart, so proud of you..” Geto praised, kissing your temple as you smiled warmly up at him.

“..C'n we do this more often?” You asked quietly, Gojo giggling into your shoulder as Geto paused to consider your request. “If you're willing to go back on what you said about me, then of course.” You scoffed and pushed at his chest lightly in retaliation. “Absolutely not.” 

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Harry’s Home

Part III.

Read Part 1 Here!

Read Part 2 Here!

Pairing/AU: Roommate!Harry // Roommate!Y/N

Word Count: ~ 4k words

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Pining, Sexual Desire, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Fantasies of Rough Sex, Breeding Fantasies, Exhibitionism, Explicit Depictions of Masturbation(M&F), Dirty Talk, ~Slow Burn~

So, yeah. Harry and I have successfully become somewhat close. We’ve put up with each other’s shit for long enough and eventually bonded—or whatever the hell you call it when a pair of sex-starved adults live in close quarters and they decide to play nice so the walls don’t come down on them.

Even though it’s the time of year when I can see my breath and I have to wear socks to protect my chilly toes when I’m lounging around the house, when I’m around Harry…I might as well be a tea kettle on the verge of squealing in steaming agony. I guess you could say I’ve been in heat.

I’m catching myself spacing all the time, hypnotized by his comfortable routine. He grasps my attention like it’s second-nature to him, and I have no other choice but to relent—to surrender. How fucking pathetic is that? Like, get a grip, woman. 

But seriously, I can’t take it anymore. I turn powerless and my body betrays me, simply from the man meeting my eyes with his from across the room. For someone to hold this much control over another human being by just existing…not only is it completely unfair, but it feels otherworldly. It’s as though a connection has been birthed out of the rawest, most sinful form of lust, with its sole purpose to fuse a pair of unwed and horny humans. Thus latching itself onto the two of us, melding an incubus with a siren.

I guess it could just be some crazy-intense sexual tension, too. There’s no fun in that explanation, but whatever. The point is that I can’t fucking take it anymore.  Me being so mesmerized by him performing the most mundane of tasks—unscrewing a new jar of jam, rubbing the sleep out of his face as he stumbles out of his bedroom, sneaking little peeks at me from across the room and smirking to himself after he looks away. God. That smirk keeps me up at night…my hands groping myself and massaging my clit to lull myself to dreamland.

Right…so about that…

For the past few months, Harry’s been able to hear me fucking myself through the thin wall that separates our two bedrooms. The divider does absolutely nothing to silence me and my explicit acts of self-pleasure. These walls couldn’t muffle a mouse, let alone an ambitiously horny, and impressively vocal young woman who’s desperate to get her rocks off…hard. 

And I’m certain he can hear everything—every gasp, every whine, every slick plunge of my fingers—or a toy—as they’re used in a merciless attack on my own body in order to chase an unattainable high…It's loud. It’s filthy. 

It’s pornographic.

And yet Harry indulges in my songs. I know he does. The only way I’m able to get myself off is to picture him on the other side…to close my eyes and astral-project my way into his room and assume the role of the voyeur…as the exhibitionist. I’m a walking oxymoron.

I imagine my waves of ecstasy seeping through the walls to awaken his neglected cock in his tight briefs.

I think to myself, 

…I bet he’s wondering whether or not I'm messing with him...if I know he’s listening to me…and if, perhaps, I want him to listen…

If only I were just playing a sick game of tease…Such a possibility would be utterly humiliating for Harry. He loathes feeling like his control is in the hands of another. Said power landing in my hands? Oh…No, no, no. Lest we forget the towel incident? Don’t let the sensitive late-night talks, the apology hugs, or the sleepy cuddles fool you; a switch, Harry is not. Not that he’s told me or anything, but it’s a feeling. When he drags his eyes down to slowly assess me…there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s in charge.

He has a limited threshold for teasing and babying, which is precisely why he shooed his own mother out the door after a mere 5 minutes of her jests. Harry spent his entire life as the baby. I sense he’s needed a release for quite some time…and it probably doesn’t help matters that my playful antics are sure-fire triggers for his dark dominance to take over. I think he’s struggled to find the right mate to unleash that part of himself with. At least completely, that is. And I hope I’ve been pressing just the right buttons to experience it all for myself. 

But yes, I’ve been fucking myself with lotsa gusto knowing he’s in close earshot of the action. Hopefully, he’s come to successfully make sense of some of my muffled ramblings beyond his wall as, “Yes, Daddy!” as well as the occasional gasp or moan of “Harry.” What? I like it…

Although I’d love to exacerbate the narrative that this has all just been a cruel game started by yours truly—a game that I’m winning, to be clear—I'm actually not messing with him. This had begun purely by accident, and now I'm just continuing to provide some adult entertainment for my, uh...housemate and…good friend. 

Before you scold me for being a perv, let me just finish explaining the situation. Because if Harry had a problem with something I did, he’d tell me. And he never complained about this. Never. 

Quite the opposite, actually.

The first time I did my private deeds with Harry eavesdropping in the next room, I'd initially felt horribly embarrassed. I hadn't realized how shameless I was, or how loud and desperate the noises were as they came out of me. Once I finally caught myself, it was like space and time had spun to a stop, and I was painfully aware of my raw indecency.

I wasn’t watching porn, reading erotica, or listening to naughty audio recordings. Nope. Only my lustful thoughts fueled the eagerness in my fingers as they played with my pussy. I’d also been blatantly inconsiderate of Harry and his right to privacy whilst they did. I felt dirty. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Pfft, I was hardly thinking of anything. It reminded me of the time just before we moved into this house…when I lurked on his social media pages for the images of his slick, half-naked body which burned themselves into my memory, all just to use him for my own personal, sick, sexual gratification.  

And there I was again—now cohabiting a space with the very inspiration for my filth and frustration—lying comfortably atop a spacious, girly pink towel to protect my bed linens from succumbing to my wetness. My knees were spread apart and my dripping cunt was on full display for my closed door across the room. If anyone walked in, they'd unknowingly be entering what many theme parks tend to call a “splash zone.” 

Luckily, Harry was in the living room watching some melodramatic video essay on YouTube…Or at least that’s where I’d left him before ending up in the not-so-innocent position atop my mattress.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that the house wasn’t empty until I heard my own whiny sighs combined with unmistakable slippery pussy-rubbing echoing throughout the room. My cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink once I’d realized the extent of my elevated volume. There was no way Harry couldn’t have heard all that. And I had no idea how long I’d been up to it, or for how long at that high of a frequency.

The click of a door closing nearby interrupted my nervous internal monologue—Harry’s door. He was mere meters away from my partially-nude body, but my private quarters kept me safe from any judging eyes. The wall our bedrooms shared stood as the only barricade between our two bodies. For a while, I dismissed my initial self-awareness and I slowly, and carefully, swirled my drenched fingertips over my clit. More of my liquid arousal coated my petite hand. For some reason, the idea of Harry walking in on me like that had me feeling hot. Realistically, that would’ve meant immediate, devastating humiliation. Did that mean I was into that? I’d say yes judging by the way I was pulsing around nothing whilst staring at my door, picturing the man himself standing there smirking at me…tilting his head and patronizing me. 

…Aw, would you look at tha’…Does that feel good, Sweet Bunny? 

“Mmhmm.” I found myself nodding with a sigh, my eyes relaxed and veiled. My mind refused to backtrack, and instead doubled-down. I probably should have stopped myself right there, but fuck, could self-sabotage feel good.

My brain directed me towards thinking about how pretty and sweet I was on the outside. My body, soft, and my features, so delicate, but so grabbable. Every part of me had an ample amount of plushness to squeeze. To manhandle. My tiny wrists and my elegant neck, the perfect size for a pair of big hands to wrap around. I bit my rosy lip on a whine, then brought my thumb up to rub and tease it before sucking on it. The sinful acts my mouth performed were a secret I kept with the few lucky men who’d experienced it for themselves. I wanted so badly to share that with Harry…I wanted to share all of myself with him. 

“Mmm…Harry.” I moaned aloud, releasing my wet thumb and sneaking it under my shirt, swiping the slick pad back and forth over my sensitive tit.

It was hard for me not to think about Harry whenever I touched myself. I thought about his fingers playing with my hair, him burying his face into my neck the times we cuddled…feeling his hard-on against my ass on the couch…the times when he’d hugged me…and catching his gaze drift down to my tits…I bet he’d thought I’d never notice, even after having done it multiple times in a single conversation. Hmm…was Harry Styles an ass man or a tit man? Or was he something else…? He certainly liked looking at my boobs…and I'm able to confirm that his body has a very positive reaction to pressing up against my butt…

Honestly, I didn’t even care what parts of the body Harry liked the most. All I cared about was how badly I wanted to feel him use mine. I wrapped my small hand around my throat and arched my back up off of the mattress, gasping as I mindlessly pushed two hooked fingers inside my tight opening, picturing a certain tall, curly-headed British man molesting me instead. The sound of my own moans enhanced my pleasure as I rode myself towards peak bliss. My modesty had become non-existent as my hands worked each sensitive spot between my legs and teased at my pebbled nipples. A part of me needed him to hear me that night. I was getting off on that taboo. But that’s all it was…my imagination. 

It was just a silly little fantasy. Harmless exhibitionism. I wasn’t actually being that loud…—but that’s when I suddenly heard more feedback beyond the wall. It’d been some time since I’d heard the door click shut. My personal distractions got in the way of keeping track of time. 

There was an urgent fumbling. A repetitive clinking. The sound resembled a bit of metal hitting other metal. But it was light. Small. Following that, I heard a rough yank and a soft plop as whatever the item was had dropped heavily onto the carpeted floor. An unmistakable hum of a zipper quickly came subsequent to the discarding of the first mystery item—but it was no longer a mystery to me as my sex-clouded mind pieced together what I was hearing. The hands nestled between my thighs slowed at the realization.

Well, Harry’s just changing into his pajamas for the night, right?

My audible x-rated activities bouncing off the walls for several minutes whilst my roommate innocently removed his pants next door…maybe I was overthinking this…I remembered calling out our "goodnight"'s to each other around 10 minutes before I slipped out of my panties and began to shamelessly pleasure myself. He was still in his business-y work clothes when I left him in the living room…and I knew I just heard his bedroom door click shut in the middle of my alone time. And at that point, Harry was right there. He was just trying to unwind, yet happened to be in the room adjacent to mine. It was probably too awkward for him to ask for me to quiet down. 

Poor guy…ugh. I was disgusted with myself. I felt I needed to end my “session” right there, and

I was mentally preparing a nice apology text to send him. There was no way in hell I'd bring this up in person to Harry the following day. Surely I’d be in tears before I could even form the right words. I didn’t even want to imagine the scenario of Harry, himself, mentioning it to my face. Every possible, horrible consequence of my selfishly lewd deeds played out in my mind. There I was, lying there with my knees bent up and spread wide open—my fingers frozen against where I'm most sensitive. The silence made the throbbing in my clit feel even more desperate. 

And then Harry flicked his white-noise machine on.

Oh, God…This was so embarrassing.

I wanted to sink into a black hole and never be seen, nor heard, ever again. The severity of the situation felt devastating to me. Was I truly so grotesque that the beautiful man I lived with had to tune me out with the highest setting of his old, rattly sleep machine?!

Hell, I was more than embarrassed, I was fucking humiliated. For real, this time. And it was all my fault.

I just wanted to disappear.

But just as I was readying myself to book a flight back home to move back in with my parents to spare myself from ever having to look Harry in the eye again…

I heard it. 

I heard him.

“…Mmmhh…”

Beyond the hum of the wimpy white noise, there was a raspy moan on the other side of the wall. I thought I was just imagining it, or that maybe it was Harry quietly retching in disgust, but then it happened again. 

No, yeah. It was definitely a moan.

I held my breath as I focused upon the sound of an abrupt curse followed by the distinctive sound of spitting. 

“...Ahhh, fuck—” 

*ptuh* 

The grunting and other lewd noises continued. I could only imagine Harry’s tightened fist, wet from his own drool, working diligently at his neglected cock.

“...Mm…h-hm…ugghhh…”

It seemed like Harry's white-noise machine had some impressive competition. My lips curved into a smirk and my embarrassment exponentially subsided.

His growls vibrated right through the layers of paint and drywall—sliding their way under my shirt, swirling around my perked nipples before bolting straight down to my fingertips, coaxing them to push deeper into my heat. Squeezing my thighs together and arching my back, I curled those digits and gasped out audibly. Feminine arousal leaked from my center and down the crease where my ass met my thighs. Everything was so slippery. I’d made a mess of myself within seconds. Not to mention, the pornographic squelch of my fingers echoed shamelessly beyond the slick walls of my cunt.

If Harry’s spit-covered palm was loud enough to hear over the white noise, then I knew the splashy reservoir between my legs was audible too.

Another series of grunts and huffs sounded beyond the wall behind me and the white noise machine was switched off. I retracted my fingers and slid them up and down my slit, teasing myself and picturing Harry rubbing the head of his dick along my entrance. My brow pinched hedonistic agony. Oh, God, did I want him inside me…I needed something…anything…

With my less-saturated hand, I reached over to open my bedside drawer and lifted the lower compartment to retrieve the silk satchel that encased my dildo. My sticky-slick fingers fumbled impatiently with the ties until the toy comically launched out of the bag and bounced itself smack down onto the inside of my splayed thigh. I could just picture Harry laughing at my lack of grace even though he was busy with his own deeds next door. The thought of Harry teasing me about the dildo made me blush a bit, and I smiled to myself, imagining his hand reaching out to brush my hair out of my face, his pupils dilating as he’d sit on his knees next to the bed and lean over me until his lips grazed my ear…

Be a good girl and show me what filthy things you do with this, Bunny…Show me where it goes…Show me how you fuck yourself…

I hadn’t realized I’d done it again. I’d gotten lost in that depraved little world of mine, and I whimpered aloud in response to the Imaginary Harry who was speaking in my fantasy, “Y-you want me to fuck my pussy for you, Daddy?” Maybe it was the Imaginary Harry again, but I could’ve sworn that I heard a silky British voice nearby react, “Goddd…dammit, Bun’…Ugh, fuuuck, yes. Fuck that sweet little pussy f’me, baby, holy shit…”

Laying back down, I brought the silicone cock up to my lips and sucked it into my mouth. I slowly bobbed my head on it and soaked it with my saliva after deepthroating it several times. The sloppy blowjob I gave to my dildo seemed to have been loud enough to be heard by Harry next door, as he voiced out, “Oh my god, Y/N…I wanna fuck that pretty mouth.”

I pulled it away from my tongue, a string of drool dripping from the tip, and rubbed the head of the toy against my sensitive clit whilst I responded, bringing me right back to where I needed to be. 

“Mmhh, but you can’t put a baby in me that way, Daddy.”

My own eyes widened and I gasped. I couldn’t believe I’d actually fucking said that.

“Shit! Ughh…Ahh…Ughhhh…Fuck you, Bunny…Almost made me…c-come…Christ—Ohhh, fuck me…”

With my free hand, I sucked on my index finger and let my eyes flutter closed as I pulled it out from my lips, trailing it down my neck, all the way to my breasts. Groping myself as best as I could with the rest of my hand, I used my forefinger to tease my nipple whilst the dildo swirled and swiped around my slickened slit. My breathing picked up quickly. The dildo had eventually disappeared inside my clenching hole. The only audible sounds I remember hearing were those of my own—my high-pitched gasps, the pornographic swishing and squelching of the dildo fucking my drenched cunt, the wet flicking noises of my fingers moving rapidly against my clit…I don’t even remember how loud Harry was at that point, I was too focused on my fantasy—my fantasy with him—to notice. I was so focused, in fact, that I had once again lost all sense of self-control and consciousness, succumbing to whatever had come naturally to me at the time and practically singing out my song of ecstasy for the whole goddamn neighborhood.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…Harry, please. I need your cum…Oh, god, please come inside me. Fuck all your cum d-dee–oh g…–ah! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!”

As I begged for my climax, Harry seemed to have been on the edge of his orgasm as well.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me, Y/N…You want me to fill you up? Be my little breeding bunny? God…You dirty girl…Fuuuck…oh fuck, I’m gonna come…”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy! I can take it! Please! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Aaahhh!”

I unraveled with a squeak followed by a series of breathless sobs, my hands, wrists, and arms working frantically and my eyes rolled back whilst the kaleidoscope of pleasure poured through my body. Immediately after my explosion, I collapsed like a ragdoll with the dildo slowly pushing out of me, and my fingers slipping around on my clit to prolong my high. As my breathing recovered, I listened to the tail-end of the orgasm taking place from Harry’s side of the wall.

“Holy shit…Fucking take all of it f’me, babe—ohhhh, yeah…uhh-uuggh…mmhh…hm…Damnit…’So much…I wish all this was inside you, Bunny…fucking hell…”

I’d slept like a rock once I finally passed out. I wasn’t even worried about what would come the next morning. Nah, I had the upper hand on this one for once. As a bratty submissive, I’d gotten used to being teased and controlled. What an interesting feeling to exist on the other side. God, it felt fucking fantastic. Unfortunately for Harry, he wasn’t as confident…or at least that was what I’d been able to interpret in the days following. Nights after the first one, I’d carry on fucking my cunt until I was physically too exhausted to move my pretty little hands anymore. I swear I’d heard Harry finish at least thrice in one night once. (Impressive, Styles.) As for myself…well, I usually lost count.

That first morning, I awoke with sore arms, a rogue dildo laying on the floor, my limbs tangled inside my sheets, yet a ridiculous smile was perma-glued onto my sleepy, orgasm-spent face. I tried my best to tone it down, as I didn’t want to prance around the house like I’d just risen from a deep sleep induced by a gazillion-and-one pulsating firecrackers of pleasure. Too obvious, you know? Had to act nonchalant. Unbothered. 

Who was I kidding—I was the most chalant person I knew. Harry would see right through that charade. But there honestly wasn’t much need for pretending on my part since Harry had actively avoided any and all eye contact with me anyway. I’d never seen the man be so meek. It was truly a sight. 

Things would eventually loosen up as the days progressed, especially if it was a work day which meant Harry had an excuse to be miles away from me for several hours. It was somewhat of a bummer because I thoroughly enjoyed this sampling of power I newly held over the man. I reveled in the way our typical roles would reverse the mornings after our little bedtime serenades. They weren’t a nightly occurrence, as I preferred to keep him on his toes; however, they’d happen often enough that I tended to daydream in the middle of my work meetings. I’d even begun to retreat to my bedroom an hour or so earlier in the evenings, giving Harry some lame excuse like tiredness or a headache. In reality, it was me signaling that I needed to get myself off sooner rather than later. Whenever I’d announce my departure, I could feel how much he’d been aching for it all day, too. Harry eventually utilized the same approach to speed up the fulfillment of his own needs. I’d changed up my tempo, my method of pleasure, the filth of my words, even my own positions whilst touching myself. It seemed like it had become almost like a routine for him to wait for me to fall into bed late in the evening. (Yet another one for me to be distracted by…) 

Nothing’s changed. I still imagine that he patiently lays atop his soft duvet with an anxious throb booming against his eardrums…That minutes will go by with him training his ear to follow each soft pad of my feet. And then I shut my door. I waste no time before diving my pretty fingers inside the waistband of my underwear and playing with my sensitive little petal—allowing all the filth to freely escape my lips. And every single time we do this, I’m in my room picturing him naked from the waist down, one hand eagerly pumping his dripping length whilst the other massages his balls and perineum. To this day, the waves of simultaneous pleasure are still trapped only by the few measly layers of drywall that stand in between us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know, I know…it’s been a while…but I’m back:-) and this isn’t the end of Harry’s Home—the final part is basically finished, but I wanted to post this chunk of it since I’d been kind of neglecting my account for months now. I hope y’all like it! Xoxo ~ Régan 💋

Tags: @daphnesutton @victoria-styles @pishhhh20989 @heyyyloverr @youdontcaredoyou @jerseygirlinca

[starsfic]

Qi Xiaotian had never really thought about it, but he didn't know his grandparents.

Not on Pigsy's side, no. His grandmother had passed before he wandered into Pigsy's life, but his great-grandmother had taken up her role. His grandpa adored him, even if things got a little tense when he came out and shed his grandmother's name, and there were almost thousands of aunts, uncles, and cousins.

But he had never met Tang's side of the family. Most of the pictures in their home were of the Monkie Kids. The only hints that suggested a family existed were some letters that occasionally came by.

"Hey, Tang?"

"Hm?"

"Why haven't I met your parents?"

The cottage went quiet. Long Xiaojiao paused her and Sun Wukong's game, turning in her seat to stare. Maybe Xiaotian could've waited, but his curiosity had gotten too big. Tang glanced at Pigsy, the two sharing a quiet, communicative look. Finally, the scholar sighed.

"You haven't met them because we're no contact with them, Xiaotian," Tang said, closing his book. "They had some thoughts about my..." He made quotation marks. "Lifestyle and decided to take that out on me."

"Dealt with that for years," Pigsy snorted, stirring the pot. "Finally got the kick in the ass to deal with them when you came into the picture and there was the incident."

Incident? There was some kind of weight to the word. "What happened?"

Tang chuckled, the sound awkward and strained. "My sister happened. My family is made up of a large amount of people who have crazy entitlement issues but refuse to do anything about them. My sister has the worst of it." Xiaotian leaned closer, raising a brow. Okay, he had deal with entitled. "The day I brought Pigsy home, she got a huge crush on him."

"I do have a certain charm," Pigsy snorted, grinning proudly even as his husband rolled his eyes.

"Anyway. She wanted to steal him from me." Tang glanced away, snorting when he noticed Xiaojiao had pulled out her phone, the little recording light on. "Funny how my parents had a problem with me dating a pig demon, but the moment my sister said she wanted him, they were all gung-ho."

"And then she tried to kidnap Xiaotian."

"And then she tried to kidnap you."

The words didn't sink in for a second. When it did, Xiaotian jumped to his feet. He winced when his chair fell over, but he was more focused on the fact that he had nearly gotten kidnapped. "WHAT?!"

Pigsy snorted. "I know! Anyway, she lost her shit when Tang told his parents that we were adopting you."

"I thought they would shape up, knowing there was a grandkid that they could lose," Tang grumbled. He took a deep breath in and let out in an exhausted sigh. "But, yeah. My sister stalked us to the apartment and broke in through an open window. I guess you were taking a nap, because I didn't hear anything until-"

"I pooped on her."

Dead silence formed. All heads turned towards Wukong. He shrugged. "What? I said I was watching him."

Tang spoke first, his grin getting wide. "You were that bird pooping on her?!"

"Yeah! I panicked; it was the first thing that came to mind!"

Tang and Pigsy burst out laughing, followed quickly by Xiaojiao, who high-fived the smug-looking monkey. Xiaotian couldn't help but let snickers of his own out. He could imagine Wukong in bird mode, dive-bombing and pooping on this crazy lady.

Finally, Tang took another deep breath and let it out slowly, calming down. "I heard the screaming and found you still asleep on the fire escape. She was falling off the fire escape."

Wait... "She fell down the fire escape?!" The one and only time Xiaotian got the bright idea to jump off the fire escape, he ended up with a broken leg.

"And just got a few bruises, bumps, handcuffs, and a restraining order," Tang sighed. "My parents tried to call us to convince us to drop the charges. My mother even accused me of training a bird to attack her like that."

"Anyway," Wukong said, drawing his attention back. "I didn't want them to be bankrupted by the bills, so I got my lawyer to offer to cover them for free, with all bills paid by me."

Tang and Pigsy's eyes went wide, but they didn't say anything until Pigsy finished the story. "Anyway, it was Tang's kick in the rear to finally cut them off. He still gets cards and stuff from them sometimes, but it's all a bunch of guilt-tripping shit." He sighed, shaking his head. "I wish you could have a normal family."

Xiaotian opened his mouth, but it was Tang who spoke.

"I have you guys. What more could I want?"

[cozage]

Hi. How are you? Can I put in a request for Law x Corazon’s daughter? Corazon asks Law to take care of his wife and daughter (she is his age) if anything were to happen to him. After Corazon dies, Law finds them and stays with them before becoming a pirate and promises to visit. As the years go by, he falls for her and vice versa. Then after Dressrosa (which she helps them with), he asks her to join the crew.

A/N: Im great! anyway…Uhhhh yeah this got way long. I’m not mad about it. I hope it was worth the wait for you :) (you can also read it on AO3 if you dont like the tumblr format for long posts)

Characters: female reader x Law

Cw: sadness, abandonment, parent death

Total word count: 5.2k

A Lifetime Promise

You pout at the boy standing in front of you. “Who are you?” 

Your mom squeezed your hand to silence you. “You must be Trafalgar Law,” She said, smiling at the boy. She seemed tense, like she’s scared of something.

“You have a funny hat,” you remark, looking at the spots. They matched his skin, which was patch-worked like the cows you had at home. 

“You have a funny face,” he spits back, scowling at you. 

You stick your tongue out at him, and your mother picks you up and holds you on her hip. 

“Well, Law. Let’s get you settled into your new home.”

“What?!” you shriek, looking at your mother. “I don’t want him to live with us! He’s mean! And scary looking!”

“Quiet, Y/N!” Your mother hissed at you, squeezing you tighter to her. You could tell she was upset, but you weren’t entirely sure what you had done to make her so sad. So you kept quiet and let your mother lead the strange boy back to your house.

He stayed with you for a few years, and in that time you learned to coexist. You helped him study, and you were there when he got the last drop of lead poisoning out of his system. Both of you cried for the things you had lost and the things you had gained, and you learned to actually enjoy being around him and his friends. 

You spent the summers roaming the forests with Law, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo, and you spent the winter huddled together in front of a lowly lit fireplace, your mother serving you all hot chocolate. It was heaven in the North Blue Sea, and you never wanted it to end. You all would be together forever, you were certain.

“One week from now, we’re setting out.” He had acquired a small boat, big enough for four people. “We’re going to take on the Grand Line and I’m going to be King of the Pirates.”

“It’ll be a tight fit, but we can all fit I think,” you said, examining the boat. One more person wouldn’t be that much weight.

Law shot you a look, and the other members exchanged looks nervously. They had been anticipating an argument, but they weren’t expecting it to be in front of them. 

“You’re not coming, Y/N-ya.”

You looked at him, trying to understand. Your goals have always been aligned. Go to the Grand Line and take down the Donquixote family. To take revenge for your father and for Law. 

“A pirate's life is a man’s life. You wouldn’t fit in. We all talked about it, and you’re better off staying here. Where you’re safe.” 

“I don’t want to be safe, Law,” you cried, your eyes filling with tears. “I want to be with you! We had plans!”

“Plans change.”

“You’re really going to leave me behind?” Your broken voice and bleary eyes were almost enough to change his mind. 

“I never promised to take you with me,” he snapped. He tried to ignore the pain in his chest when you ran away crying, but the dull ache didn’t go away.

The coldness between the two of you was worse than any winter storm you had ever encountered. He said goodbye when he thought you were asleep, and you laid there silently without responding. It was easier for you both that way. 

--

He didn’t return for another year, and when you saw the pirate flag the four of you had created now painted on a submarine, your heart soared. 

“Law!” You screamed, jumping onto the deck as if it were second nature. 

You leaped into his arms for a hug and he caught you, spinning you around with the momentum you both had gathered. 

“I missed you,” he whispered, clutching you close to him. 

Your heart skipped a beat. “Let me come with you this time!” 

His hands gripped tighter against your back, grabbing fists of fabric from your cloth dress. 

“Just kidding!” You say quickly, not wanting to pick up a year old fight. You scrunch your nose at him and your other three friends. “I bet you guys smell. So. Bad.”

Everyone laughs at that, and you pull away from Law nervously, hugging your other friends who you’ve missed just as much. 

Their visit was short, but you made the most out of the two days they stayed in port. You showed them new restaurants, and revisited some of your old adventures, and explored the marketplace with Law to make dinner for your mom one night. 

And when they left, you stood at the cliffside and waved until they were out of sight, praying their telescope wasn’t good enough to see the tears in your eyes.

--

It was three and a half years until Trafalgar Law came back to you, but it felt like a lifetime. You had learned to live with the pain of his absence, and tried your best to move on. But every time the light glimmered on the ocean, you could feel your heart calling out to him. 

Law came quietly that time. He was surprised when he looked for you at your usual spots and you weren’t anywhere to be found. He wandered the streets with his crew - now 7 strong - searching for you. 

“She’s down in the Trademark Hotel. She works the front desk now, dear,” an elderly woman at a stall said. 

He tried not to quicken his pace, but everyone could feel his speed increase, and worked to match it. His new crew was desperate to see the girl he returned home to, and his old crew members missed your face. 

He rushed in to see you standing at the desk, talking to a man who was dressed in a fancy suit. You laughed, and Law could feel his heart clench with joy at the sound of your voice. He couldn’t help but see a piece of Corazon in your smile now.

Your eyes slid over to the door to greet the new customers, and you screamed out upon realization of his identity, startling the man beside you. 

“Law!” You jumped over the desk and he opened his arms for an embrace as you ran to him. He held you in his arms for just a moment before you pulled away, and he reluctantly let you go. 

“Oh my god, this is perfect timing!” you squealed, running back to grab the man’s hand. “Jami, this is Law. You remember me talking about him, right?”

“Yeah…” the man eyed Law and his crew. “The pirate crew?”

You laughed. “And my best friend!”

“He’s more like your brother, isn’t he?” He smirked. “Since you were raised together.”

“We’re not siblings,” both you and Law said at the same time, and you laughed at your synchronicity, but Law’s eyes stayed fixed on the man.

Law frowned, looking between you and this stranger. He had his arm wrapped around your waist, and he was standing extremely close to you. It was clear you all were close, but Law had never seen him before. He was glaring at Law, as if he expected some sort of challenge from the pirate.  

You took a deep breath, and then broke the news. “Law, this is my boyfriend, Jamison.”

Law’s eyes widened at the news. You were too preoccupied waving to Shachi and the others, but it was enough for Jamison to see his visible reaction. 

“The three of us should have dinner tonight,” Jamison said, looking at Law with a smirk. “If you can leave your crew for that long.”

“No way! Everyone needs to come.” You pressed your hand against Jamison’s chest playfully, and Law felt something twist inside of him. “You have new people in your life too, Law. Introduce us!”

Law finally breaks his gaze from Jamison and looks at you, his jealousy melting away when he sees your smile. Things felt more normal when he looked at you and heard your voice.

“I’ll set up a reservation at the hotel restaurant for ten. Oh, and mom. So eleven. Does five o’clock sound okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled back at you, and for a moment you were alone together in a crowded room. 

Jamison cleared his throat, bringing you both back to the group. He looked at Law and his crew. “The dress code is a bit more…” he paused to scan the pirates. “...Formal. I hope you have nicer clothes available than those.”

Law frowns, and he sees you mimic his own facial expression in response to Jamison’s words. “I think the Trademark can make exceptions for distinguished guests.” you said sweetly. 

“Darling,” the man hissed, squeezing your side causing you to flinch. “The Trademark has a reputation to uphold, don’t you think?”

Law resisted the urge to punch the man right then and there. If he stepped in now, you would only be angry about his interference. He knew he had to grit his teeth and let you handle it. He fully expected you to give some snarky remark back to Jamison and stand up for yourself and his crew. But the spunk he remembered you having seemed to have dissipated over the years, and your rebelling heart was more soft spoken than he remembered. 

You offered a compromise instead of a fight. “Then we’ll go to Cordelia’s.” 

“I don’t think Cordelia’s is the proper place for this occasion,” Jamison retaliated.

“Then don’t come.” Your voice was short and to the point, and Law could see the fire of defiance begin to relight in your eyes. 

“Cordelia’s sounds lovely,” Law interjected quickly before the fight escalated too much. “Still five?”

You gave him a tight smile and a quick nod, and then broke from Jamiston’s hold to run and wrap your arms around Law’s neck again. 

“It really is so good to see you again, Law.”

He held you tight for a moment, trying to remember the feeling of your body against his before he let go. “You too. See you at five,” he said, walking out the door. 

When Law arrived at Cordelia’s, he noticed the table was only set for ten, but nobody in his crew commented on it. Law kept the seat next to him open, in hopes that you would take it rather than your snotty boyfriend. But as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about it. Only you and your mother showed. 

“Sorry I’m late!” you say, taking the seat beside Law without a second thought. 

“You’re always late,” Law teased. 

You waved him off, rolling your eyes at him. You leaned over so you could see his three new crew members. “I’m Y/N,” you said. “I’m so sorry I didn’t officially introduce myself earlier! I was just so overwhelmed with seeing Law and Shachi and Penguin and Bepo!”

“She didn’t even acknowledge us earlier,” Penguin said under his breath, causing Law to shoot him a glare. 

The rest of Law’s crew introduced themselves, and you spent a lot of time asking about them and their lives. Law could feel your nervous energy, like you were interviewing celebrities or famous royalty. You wanted to know everything about their lives and how they became a pirate, and by the time dessert rolled around, there was no time left to talk about yourself. 

“Can I walk you back to your place?” Law asked as you got up from the table after the meal. 

“Such a gentleman!” you gasped, feigning surprise. “Heart Pirate crew, it was lovely to meet you. Please come back anytime! You’re always welcome here.”

Law held out his arm and you grinned as you took it, overly dramatic in your actions. You walked down the cobblestoned streets in the moonlight, quiet for a while until Law broke the silence. 

“No Jamison for dinner?” he questioned innocently. 

You scowled. “I don’t want to talk about him,” you replied. “Jami always says Cordelia’s is our spot. He doesn’t like to share with other people.”

“He doesn’t seem like-”

“Law,” you warn, irritation creeping into your voice. “I really don’t want to talk about him right now.”

“Okay, fine.” He eyed you, but your face was completely unreadable. He wasn’t sure when he had lost the ability to read your emotions, but it saddened him now. 

“Can we go to the harbor before you take me home?”

“Of course, Milady,” he said, ushering you towards the sea wall at the bottom of the hill. 

You all sat on the wall, staring at the moon and its reflection against the ocean. 

“Tell me a story, Law.” It was something you used to say when you were kids. On the nights one of you had such terrible nightmares that you woke up crying, and the other would crawl into bed with the other. You always begged him to make up some kind of story to get your mind off of things. He was a good storyteller. 

He chuckled. “We’re a bit old for that, don’t you think?” He looked over at you, but your eyes were on the sea, deep in thought. 

“Tell me a real story, then.”

He obliged, of course. He’d do anything for you. Keep her happy and keep her safe. That’s what Corazon had asked of Law when he was a child. A lifelong promise for the man who gave him a life worth living. 

He told you the story of giant bees who hated humans, but loved Bepo’s fur. The crew had to make trades of honey for Bepos fur, and how it saved them from starvation and left Bepo half bald. 

“That can’t be true!” you giggled, pushing him away from you. “Tell me a true story!”

“It’s true! I swear!” He said, smirking at you. 

“Promise?” you looked up at him with wide eyes, desperately wanting to believe him.

He was about to respond, but your gaze distracted him. You all stared at each other for a few moments, hovering close to each other. Not touching, just out of reach.

“Take me to sail with you, Trafalgar Law,” you begged. “I won’t ask for anything ever again. Just take me with you.”

He desperately wanted to take you away from this island, from the man who claimed to love you and the mediocre job you worked. But he made a promise. 

“I can’t,” he whispers, and you can hear the pain he's causing himself in rejecting you. 

You pull away, breaking your eye contact with him to stare out into the sea. You want to cry, but no tears would come. You were expecting this response from him. You were expecting rejection from him. It still stung, but not as much as you were anticipating. 

“Okay,” you say with a nod, pushing down your sadness. “I won’t ask you again.”

You rise to your feet, and turn your back to the ocean and your best friend, and walk into your house on the dock. Law didn’t even have time to beg you to stay before you had vanished into the night. 

Law found your house the next morning with the help of a friend of yours. Of course, Jamison answered the door with that signature cocky sneer on his face. 

“She’s not feeling well,” he said, glancing at the back room. “How about you try again tomorrow?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Law says, trying to push past the man. “I need to see her before we go.”

“I’ll send her your way if she’s feeling up to it, okay?” He starts to shut the door, but Law jams his foot into the opening to prevent it from closing completely. 

“I need to see her.”

“No, you don’t,” Jamison said, kicking Law’s foot out of the doorway. “I don’t need my future wife being influenced by a bunch of pirates. Your presence is bad for her. You make her rude and disobedient.” He pauses to look out to the harbor, and his smirk returns. “You might want to hurry, it looks like some Navy ships got a tip about a notorious pirate crew on this island. Wouldn’t want you to get caught.”

Law looks to the harbor and finds 10 marine ships on the horizon, and he takes off towards his crew, cursing the coward you’re with. 

“I’ll be back,” Law whispers into the air as he runs for his ship. “I promise.”

--

Law finally made it back to you two years later, praying that you wouldn’t be giving him another major life update when he found you again. He was terrified that he’d come back to you and you’d be engaged to that pompous ass - or even worse, married. He wanted you to be happy, but he knew you weren’t happy with that man.

The crew could sense his tenseness in the days leading up to the arrival on their home island. But nobody talked about it, until Shachi finally went into his office as they docked.

“Are you going to ask her this time?” He demanded. “You know she’ll say yes.”

“I don’t want her on the ship,” Law said. He didn’t even bother to look up from his book. 

“Bullshit,” Shachi replied. “You have Ikkaku here now too. You can’t even use that stupid “No Girls Allowed” rule.”

Law didn’t respond. It had been what he told you years ago, and he had to admit he was a little nervous to see how you’d respond to seeing a woman on his crew. 

“Captain,” Shachi said, walking over to his desk. “Ask her.”

Law finally looked up from his book. “I’ll consider it.”

When they docked, Law was the first off the ship. The others didn’t bother to follow him, they knew they’d see you soon enough. 

He made a beeline for the Trademark, and was surprised to find that there had been a name change in the past year and a half. 

It was now the Heart Hotel.

He walked into the lobby, but your smiling face wasn’t the one to greet him, and his heart sunk. A young woman sat at the front desk, but it wasn’t you.

“Hello, how can I help you today sir?” Her voice was high pitched and overenthusiastic, but Law couldn’t tell if she was genuine or not. 

“I’m looking for Y/N.” Law said, looking around. “Does she still work here?”

The girl at the front desk laughed at his question, but Law didn’t understand why. 

“Let me go get her. Please wait right here. What business do you have with her today?”

Law frowned, unsure how to answer the question. “Personal, I guess?”

The girl nodded and receded into a back room. A moment later he heard your voice cry out, and he relaxed a little bit. 

“WHAT?!” He could hear quickened footsteps, and the door to the back rooms opened, revealing your frame. 

He smiled when he saw you, but it was quickly erased when he saw your downward knitted brows and angry look on your face. 

“Trafalgar Law!” you screeched, storming out to where he was standing. You pulled your hand back and swung it around, your palm hitting his cheek full force. Before Law had time to react, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him close to you, so your face was only centimeters away. You were shorter than him, but with this amount of rage, he couldn’t help but feel intimidated by you.

“Don’t you ever leave me without saying goodbye again!” You said, and he could see tears in your eyes. Your glare breaks, and you crumple into his chest and let out a sob. 

“Why did you do that?” you cried. He wrapped his arms around you, and held you tight against him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding you tight. He didn’t make excuses or try to explain. It didn’t matter now. “I’m here now. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

You nod into his chest and pull away from him, viciously wiping the tears away with your hands. 

“God look at me, I’m such a mess.” Your voice is still thick from crying. “Amanda, I’m going on break. If anyone needs me-”

“They won’t,” Amanda finishes, and you laugh at her response. Then she corrects herself with, “I know, I’ll call you on the transponder snail.”

“Looks like you’ve moved up a bit in the hotel,” Law states as you take his arm and lead him out the door. 

Your laugh rings out, and Law feels his heart flutter in his chest. “I’m the owner now, thank you very much!”

“The owner?” he gasped, looking at you. Your chest is puffed out proudly and you’re carrying yourself with more confidence than the last time he saw you. 

“Yep! You like the name?”

“I was wondering about that,” he mumbled, looking up at the top of the hotel, where name was proudly displayed. 

You giggled again and bumped into him as you walked. “I missed you, Law.”

“I missed you too,” he said, bumping back into you. “You seem to be doing good for yourself.”

“Oh, I love running the hotel!” He can feel your excitement. “It’s something I didn’t even know I was good at, but it’s so fun! And the restaurant is interesting to work in too! It keeps me busy, but me and mom run it together and we work with local farmers and suppliers for everything in the restaurant and for the hotel.”

He listens to you ramble on about the intricacies of the business, and he feels his heart sink. He was going to ask you to come with him, to join him in his adventure. But he can’t pull you away from this life. He can’t pull you away from this happiness. He’s not so selfish that he would do that to you or your mother. He made a promise, and he would be breaking it by asking you to leave now. 

When you finish talking about your new business, you both find yourselves at the door of your house on the dock. 

“Would you like to come in?” You ask, pulling out your key. “I can make dinner for-your crew! How many are there now? I can make a reservation at the restaurant if you want!”

“There’s thirteen of us in total, but we still don’t have any fancy outfits, I’m afraid.”

You roll your eyes and open the door, trying to usher Law into the house. “The Heart Hotel isn’t as snobby under my new management. Table for 15, got it. Come on in.”

But Law kept standing outside. “Are you sure it’s okay with Jamison that I come in?”

You scowl, and you realize that he’s waiting for some kind of update on more than your professional life. He glances down at your hands, but there’s no sign of commitment around your fingers. 

“That kind of crashed and burned.” Your tone indicates that you won’t be going into any further detail, but Law isn’t quite done with his questions. 

“It looks like you came out on top, at least.” He walks into the house, looking around. It’s decorated similarly to the house you all grew up in, evident that only you and your mother were living in the space. “The hotel, the house…”

“Law.” Your voice told him he was getting into dangerous territory. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, flopping on the couch. He didn’t want to drop the conversation, but he could tell that he wouldn’t be getting any more information out of you at the moment. 

You put out a snack tray, and called Amanda on the snail transponder. “Hey dear, could you put in a reservation for 15 please? 6 pm should be good, but we might be a little late.”

Amanda and you chatted briefly, and then you came back to the living room to sit across from Law. 

“So, how’s the sea life treating you?” 

He talked about his adventures, telling you about his three new members on the crew. He saw you tense at the mention of a female joining the crew, but you didn’t say anything. You just snacked on the cheese and crackers and listened to his stories quietly. 

You desperately wanted to ask him to take you with him again, but you refrained. After the last time, where you begged him to go and then he left without saying goodbye, you promised not to ask anymore. And you would hold true to your promise, no matter how much it hurt to let him leave again. 

Law left you to round up his crew, and you all met up again outside of the Heart Hotel. You could tell his crew adored their captain, and it was good to see your old friends and meet your new ones. 

Dinner was delightful, and you could tell the chefs had put their entire soul into creating the meal for you all. 

“It looks like you’ve got the best of the best working for you,” the crew complimented. 

“Oh, they are! I love the creative liberty they take in each meal.” The more you talked, the more apparent it was that you loved the life you had built. 

Shachi and Law exchanged a look, a sense of understanding passing through them. 

“How long are you here for?” You finally asked after dessert was served. 

“We’re actually pulling out tomorrow morning,” Law said, ignoring the look of shock from his crew. They had anticipated being in port for at least a few days. 

“What?” Your spoon dropped out of your hand from the surprise. “So soon? I can put you up in-”

“That’s not necessary,” Law said, cutting you off. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello as we passed through.”

“I see,” you said carefully, trying to beat around the bush of the question you wanted to ask. “Are you heading to the Grand Line?”

“Not yet,” Law admitted. “We should be ready soon.”

“You’ll visit before you go for good, right?”

“Promise.”

--

He came back to find you a year and a half later. He had his mind set for the Grand Line, and he was finally going to ask you to come with him. You had to be by his side if he was going to succeed in being the King of the Pirates. 

When he walked into the Heart Hotel, he saw Amanda, who didn’t seem surprised to see him at all.

“Trafalgar Law,” Amanda said with a sad smile on her face. “She said you’d come back.”

Her words raised the hair on his neck. They were ominous and foreboding, and she spoke as if she knew something he didn’t. She walked to the back and came out with a envelope, which she handed off to him. 

“This was what she left you.”

“Where is she?” he demanded. His name was on the front of the envelope, the handwriting in your style. He felt sick to his stomach.

“I’m not sure,” Amanda said. “Off on some great adventure. There’s more in the note. You should read it.”

He walked down to the sea wall and sat, opening the letter to find out what happened to you. The date was marked 10 months after he had last visited.

Law, 

Mom died this morning. She got sick a few weeks ago, and it all happened pretty fast. The doctors said she didn’t suffer much, and she passed peacefully in her sleep. So I guess there’s some comfort in that. I wish I could’ve told you another way. Maybe I’ll find you and we can talk about it face to face before you’re reading this. 

I can’t stay here. Everywhere I look reminds me of you or her. This place I loved just feels dead now. Maybe I’ve outgrown it. Maybe I need something more. 

The last time you were here, I was hoping you would ask me to join you. But I see now that you don’t want me to be a part of your crew for whatever reason. Don’t worry, I’m not angry about it. I understand that you want to live your own life, and I don’t hold that against you. 

But I can’t wait around for you to brighten up my life every few years. I have to make my own adventure. So I’m heading off to be my own captain, going straight for the Grand Line. I’m going to do what we promised we’d do all those years ago. I’m going to go find my uncle and take revenge on my father. Some way or another. 

I hope I’ll see you on the Grand Line. We’ll meet as Pirate Captains, but don’t take too long, or I’ll beat you to the One Piece. 

See you soon.

Law shoved your note into his pocket and took off towards his crew. He wasn’t even sure if you had made it to the Grand Line, or how you would survive it long enough to get to Dressrosa. 

“We need to go,” he yelled at the crew. “The Grand Line! Now!”

Shachi looked behind the captain, waiting to see you tagging along. But you didn’t appear. “Captain, where-”

“She left!” He yelled. “She went to the Grand Line already!” 

“What?!” The crew yelled in unison. 

--

He heard rumors of a one-woman ship in Alabasta, but there wasn’t much information besides that. And then, on Kite Rose Island, he heard that you had disappeared. People speculated if you had been killed by an enemy ship, or sold into slavery, or sunk into the ocean. Law got sick to his stomach whenever he thought about it. 

But he still had a promise to fulfill. To take down Doflamingo. For you and for Corazon. 

--

And he did. With the help of the Strawhat Pirates and some luck, he finally succeeded. And as he sat with Sengoku, he couldn’t help but bring up your name. 

“Did you know he had a daughter?”

Sengoku raised his brow and smiled. “I kept tabs on her,” he said. “She came to Dressrosa about two years ago, and has been operating under the Donquixote family. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“She made it?” Law breathed out, unable to believe you had been here the whole time. 

Sengoku laughed. “How do you think your friends were able to navigate the colosseum so easily to escape? Or that the Tontattas made it to Dressrosa so quickly? How do you think Princess Viola avoided detection of her betrayal for so long? She may not have been an inner family of Doflamingo, but she was high on his rank and extremely trusted. Any time you thought luck was on your side, I assure you it was her.”

Law struggled to stand, looking around for you over the cliffside. 

“If I remember correctly, she was heading for the castle the last I saw her.”

He ran as fast as his feet would carry him. Even in his weakened state, he willed his body to stay upright to find you. His eyes desperately searched every face he saw, looking for your eyes, your smile. He had tried to abandon the hope that you were alive over the past three years since he found your letter, but it had never truly died. 

Finally, he found you laughing with the purple-haired princess of Dressrosa. He called your name, and he saw you turn to him, scanning the faces until you met his eyes.

“Law!” You screamed. You abandoned Viola and took off towards him at full speed, tears streaming down your face. 

He tried to brace himself for the impact he knew was coming, but it wasn’t enough, and the two of you tumbled onto the floor. He pulled you into his chest and refused to let you go, and you laid against him, sobbing. 

“You did it,” you cried, getting tears and snot all over his coat. 

“We did it,” he corrected. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You cried harder into his chest at his praise, and he stroked your hair gently. He didn’t care that the two of you were causing a giant scene in front of everyone. He blinked back tears of his own, relieved to know you were finally back in his arms and you were safe. 

“Sail with me. Join my crew.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded in response. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere captain,” you sobbed. “I promise.”

He pulled you closer to him, never wanting to let you go. “And I’ll never leave you alone. I promise.”

[invertedheaven]

If You Really Love Nothing

chapter 12: another one?

chapter index | next chapter

And when sukuna met gojo half way the handshake held more weight and tension than any conversation could.

The employee who had been trying to chat it up with gojo immediately noticed the shift in energy and made himself scarce, he could tell this was a conversation he didnt want to be a part of.

“So its been a while” gojo joked uneasy, he doesn’t know how to explain it but he could feel that his father was watching

“It has” sukuna dryly responded “figured it’d be sooner considering the brat has been hanging around you lately”

“Around megumi, not me, I hardly see him” gojo lied and shrugged as he reached for a non alcoholic drink from the tray that a waiter was holding “Hes a good kid though, not sure how you guys are related”

Sukuna smiled with a glint of irritation behind the eyes that anyone else wouldn’t have notice but gojo had the luxury of being classmates in high school with this guy so his mannerisms didn’t go unnoticed

“So you and her?” referring to you, Sukuna bit the bullet and asked because at the end of the day both him and gojo knew the conversation would end up there

“What about her” gojo didn’t take the bait though

“Just didn’t take you for a guy who would take someones leftovers” sukuna shrugged he knew the line that came out of his mouth was gross and in no way did he view you in that manner but he just needed to get a reaction out of gojo and insulting you or that black haired loser gojo used hang around would be the quickest way

“So thats what you think of her? Im sure she’d be thrilled to hear that” gojo tried to temper his attitude but sukunas comment agitated him, even if he knew it was just to get a reaction, it was working.

The immaturity sukuna was displaying made gojos stomach turn at the idea that sukuna would talk about the mother of his kid like that (sure he doesn’t know airi exists but still why would he speak about you in that manner even if it was for provocation)

“Well she’s dating you, so I’m sure shes heard worse” sukuna bit back, still not getting a direct answer

“Thats interesting for you, of all people, to say” gojo smiled with a contemptuous look on his face. Sukuna was halfway to a response before he was cut off

“So I see you two are finally having a chat” Gojo Sr. cut in conveniently at the right time to which satoru rolled his eyes

“Yes, I can see your son inherited your way with words” sukuna changed his demeanor entirely as he addressed Gojo Sr.

“I hope you mean in a good way” Gojo Sr. joked as he and sukuna laughed, Satoru stared at them with a fake smile

“Yeah, sukuna here has shown me why you both were able to come to an agreement with a deal” satoru interrupted with a cheerful tone “Certain minds think alike”

“Don’t you mean great?” Gojo sr. corrected with a playful tone that had an edge to it

Satoru hummed “no, I don’t think so”

Before gojo sr. could say anything back he was called away by his assistant and Satoru couldn’t have been more thankful, he didnt need his dad trying to get involved. The man wouldnt ever stay in conversations for long but when he did talk he was insufferable. Sukuna watched the interaction keenly, it was obvious by the way Gojo sr. spoke of his son to sukuna, that there was some level of disdain— from both father and son and the interaction only proved to be a confirmation.

“What are your intentions?” gojo finally spit out after his father was out of earshot, Sukuna gave him a look as if asking him to elaborate so gojo said your name quietly and that gained a glint of amusement from sukunas eyes

“That’s something that is none of your concern” sukuna replied smugly. Just because you’d been with gojo for the past few years doesn’t mean gojo has any right to be involved in you and sukunas business, at least thats how sukuna saw it.

“Not my concern?” gojo laughed in disbelief “You mean the same way it’s not your concern what her love life is like, right?”

Sukunas eye twitched slightly before gojo continued “if you really cared so much why didn’t you reach out to her in the months you’ve been back?” gojo was venturing into territory you would’ve smacked him over the head for but he doesn’t care he finds he genuinely needs to know what sukunas playing at

Through the years gojo has seen you pick yourself back up and piece yourself back together, constantly trying to be better. Trying to be someone without sukuna, something you hadn’t known since you started dating him so young. The very idea that sukuna could prance into your life and possibly undo all that makes gojo seethe. Gojo knows you’re an adult who can make your own decisions, he’s just looking out for you the same way he’s sure you’d look out for him if the shoe was on the other foot.

Before sukuna could even respond gojo was being called over by his father to prepare for some ridiculous speech. Sukuna is not stupid he’s aware if he screws up here with his behavior it wouldn’t look good for either company. No matter his distaste for gojo it wasn’t worth losing his job over. He kept that in mind (even if he despised gojos words) as he watched the white haired bastard walk away.

Or at least he thought but as the night went on he felt genuine disgust just being in gojos presence. Even as both father and son made decent speeches about another successful year for the company, even as gojo had the ability to work the room with literally any conversation. Nothing about it was genuine though, and it made it sukuna scowl every time he was subjected to hearing gojos bullshit in the next group over. Sukuna smirked thinking about how it looked bad on gojo considering this was supposed to be “his company” someday, yet the lack of tact was alarming.

Whatever, it wasn’t his problem, but it was truly sukunas favorite pastime to judge and criticize other peoples poor decisions. He just simply would not find himself in such ridiculous situations, he thinks, as he overhears most conversations through the night. It was all just petty drama or conversations that he considered himself above. A couple of times, rei would try to engage in conversation with him but his mind was only on you. As if fueled by his confrontation with gojo, he now swears he’ll be back with you. He doesn’t care if you and gojo are dating, he knows you still love him. You have to, right? He’s never really thought about if you don’t.

On the other side, in all honesty gojo had forgotten sukuna was there as he focused on entertaining the party. He was able to ignore sukuna for the sake of his job, something that he knew if he didn’t put his all into he’d hear it from his father later. So sure, he caves in and does what he does best— put on a show. A passionate worker that looks forward to all the great things the company has in store…bullshit. He did have changes he wanted to implement but with his father still in control of most of it, it just felt like an endless cycle of going nowhere. It wasn’t even two and a half hours into the event and gojo found a way to ease himself out of a too long conversation, as he searched for his secretary.

“Hana” gojo half shouted to her as she was enthusiastically talking with rei, she glanced over and waved at gojo

“Haven’t seen you all night, I assume its been busy” Hana joked

Rei admired Hanas ability to speak to gojo with such ease, if rei was in hanas shoes she’d be a rambling mess. Hana is aware that rei would jump at the chance to be with gojo but its simply hilarious to her because if rei really knew how gojo was, that physical attraction could only do so much for someone with a strong personality like he has.

“Yes, but im afraid I have to go” gojo made sure to sound somewhat devastated

“So early?” Hana asked with a bit of concern

“A family emergency” gojo smiled apologetically. He was flat out lying but he had every intention of getting out of this party unnoticed by his father but he figured he should at least have Hana pass the word along if she was asked.

“Oh” Hanas brows furrowed she fights the urge to ask what happened, knowing he wouldnt even tell her with this many people around “If Gojo Sr. asks ill be sure to pass your message along” Hana bowed her head slightly

And with that gojo left with a weight off his shoulders knowing he did his mandatory appearance and got away from sukuna without too much of a hassle.

————

“Okay, but we only have time for one book” you picked up airi from the living room floor, she was practically falling asleep as she was brushing her dolls hair but she insisted that she wasnt too tired for a bedtime story

“I want the one about the worm that eats too much” airi pleaded

“The caterpillar?” You asked, she couldn’t really say caterpillar at the time you bought the book so gojo told her to call it a worm and the name stuck, you really had to fix that soon

You’re not even 4 pages in and airi knocked out, still holding onto the sleeve of your sweater as you knelt on the ground next to her bed. You took in every feature of her peaceful sleeping face, she was so precious and looked so devastatingly like Sukuna, you wonder if he saw her would he figure it out without being told?

You brushed her hair out of her face as you hummed a simple song, you didn’t want to leave her yet but the sound of the front door opening caused you to rush out her room to find satoru holding a bag of takeout leaning against the door taking his tie off. He wasn’t supposed to be back this early and you bit back a comment on how he probably escaped

“Im exhausted” he moved to take his shoes off as you took the food from his hands

“Was it that bad?” You asked

“Not so much, just cant stand my old man” he waved off the subject

You nodded in understanding as you took the takeout to the dining table, megumi had retired to his room hours ago and it wouldn’t surprise you if he actually fell asleep and before you could ask gojo spoke up

“Saw sukuna”

You hummed in response

“He asked about you” gojo reluctantly admitted

Your breath got caught in your chest, quickly recovering because its embarrassing that you feel giddy at the thought of him asking about you like some idiot with a crush “about me or about if we were dating” you snap out of your hopefulness knowing Sukuna probably didn’t really care to know about you but more if you moved on, which hurts you.

“Well about if were dating but” gojo sat down at the table pulling out his food from the bag “I don’t know, I asked him what his intentions were and he told me it wasn’t my business” gojo shrugged

You rolled your eyes “hes a grown man, if he had any intentions besides being petty about the idea that I might’ve actually moved on he should say it”

Gojo could tell the subject touched a nerve with you, there was no winning. You would’ve been unhappy if he didn’t bring sukuna up, thinking he didn’t even ask about you and here you are unhappy that what sukuna did ask was immature. Gojo tries not to laugh at how you seemed to never really change, and he guesses he hasn’t either

————

“Ungrateful children” Gojo Sr. grumbled as he stood next to sukuna “never have them” he continued, swirling the liquid in his glass which by the looks of him wasnt his first drink

Sukuna refrained from rolling his eyes but he was irritated for two reasons, he purposely secluded himself to the corner of the room where he wouldnt be dragged into conversations and the second reason being he didnt care one bit about this old man yet he played along

“I don’t plan on it” sukuna playfully responded

For the duration that hes been in collaboration with the gojos company, sukuna has been more or less working at an angle of trying to get Gojo Sr. to trust him, not for any reason other than it would get under gojos skin to see sukuna being chummy with his dad. That and maybe Gojo Sr. could tell him something useful about you and gojo.

He’d have to know something, yet as time went on sukuna lost hope, seeing as the old man hadn’t mentioned anything at all and seeing how this was probably the last night he’d be around the Gojos, he couldnt bring himself to pretend to care about what the old bastard had to say.

“I don’t understand, he’s getting this successful business I’ve built from the ground up, literally handed to him, and he cant even stay until the end of the event” Gojo Sr. scoffed “all for some ‘family emergency’ which is just a lie”

Sukuna glanced at Gojo sr. he didnt wanna make it clear that this intrigued him considering you were probably who gojo considered family. In the forefront of his mind he was wondering if something had happened to you. Were you okay? he didn’t care for gojos brat but he knows you cared about him, so for your sake he hopes nothing bad actually happened. He doesn't think for a second it involves his brother because yuji wasnt even supposed to be around the fushiguro kid today and if yuji was involved you would contact sukuna... or you should at least.

For someone who swore up and down about maintaining the family image, Gojo Sr. sure did a great job at undoing it in just a few minutes, thanks to a few drinks in his system and some misplaced trust. Sukuna had yet to say anything because for all he knows, Gojo Sr. could possibly get mad if sukuna does choose to say something, even if it was a chance to dunk on gojos character.

“Family this, family that yet those damn kids aren’t even his” Gojo Sr. turned to look sukuna directly in the face who now had a look of interest on his face “he should be more like you— motivated and passionate, hell you even stayed later than him” he dryly laughed as he took another swig of the drink in his hand

“Im sorry, kids?” Sukuna asked, he brushed off the other comment, he needed an elaboration. There was no way there was more than one, it’s just supposed to be fushiguro.

“That whore he lives with is using his no-- MY money” the older white haired bastard took sip of his drink “now my idiot son is raising some kid who isn’t even his” sukuna tries to keep himself composed, hearing you spoken of in such a negative way has him more irritated than any encounter with gojo could.

Sukuna is still convinced this escaped nursing home patient is just confused “i’ve met the kid, he’s well mannered” he tries to frame it in a way that’ll get Gojo Sr. to elaborate

“Not that one… that kid” he waved his hand in the air in a dismissive motion “his dad died years ago” Gojo Sr. shook his head at the memory

Sukuna hoped he wouldn’t elaborate he didn’t care for a back story right now (hes pretty sure he’d already heard it from you anyways). Right now he’s finding out you and gojo might actually have a kid together. He thinks this old man must lying about it not being gojos kid since it seems he doesn’t like you at all. Sukunas too focused on genuinely trying to keep his shit together

“There’s another one” Gojo Sr. bitterly continued “he thinks I’m not aware but I know and I don’t appreciate him being played for a fool its bad for our image and damaging financially” Gojo Sr. doesn’t really realize, through his buzzed state, that hes revealing more than he would had he been sober and it didn’t help that he truly thought positively of sukuna.

Another one? An actual second kid? Whatever else the old man was saying was drowned out by the ringing in sukunas ears. He could feel the sweat building up on his forehead as his heart beat wouldn’t slow down. He swears he feels himself grow light headed. Years of memories flashing in his mind as he accepts the reality that you’re actually with gojo, hell you even have a goddamned kid with him. His mind is racing genuinely questioning if you truly moved on so fast. He really thought he’d get you back but now? That seems like the most unlikely path in this scenario. His mind finally registers the old gas bag next to him is still talking and he catches onto something that he wishes he misheard, for the sake of his sanity

“That whole mess was... 4 years ago. I haven’t heard much about that disgrace of a woman since, but she’s still being a gold digger” Gojo Sr. sighed “I may have found out but my son does a good job at keeping his affairs private, I’ve only met that woman three times”

4 years? sukuna doesn’t want to let himself think about the fact that the timing was weird. Were you cheating on him with gojo? Did you rebound as soon as sukuna broke up with you? Every possibility was running through his mind until a horrifying possibility hits him as if a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown on him. That couldn’t be it… there was no way.

Sukuna thinks back to how the past two weeks yujis been avoiding him in ways he didn’t before. The kid can barely make eye contact and while sukuna initially thought maybe he was just hiding bad grades, was it actually something serious?

Theres no way you had a kid and it was sukunas, he refuses to accept that reality because the you that he knows and loves, would tell him. You wouldn’t keep something like that from him, so sukuna decides to convince himself that the idea of you possibly rebounding with gojo hurt less. He also refuses to accept the idea that you’d cheat, in his mind he creates an elaborate reason that maybe you and gojo had a kid for tax benefits or something along those lines.

Even if yujis awkward and terribly distant behavior was an indication that he’s hiding something and even if the way you no longer looked at sukuna with stars in your eyes, none of that was enough to convince him that you had his child, and decided not to tell him. And even worse, his own brother knew of this and didnt say anything. He rules this idea out of his mind as he doesn’t even realize its become painfully obvious how fast he’s spiraling.

Gojo Sr. finally realized sukuna was no longer paying attention to him “Are you okay there? You look awfully pale”

Sukuna abruptly ended the conversation, excusing himself as he ran to the nearest bathroom, he splashed water over his face and stared at his reflection for longer than he realized. He needs answers, and he needs them now. He knows he’d be able to get something out of yuji, the brat couldn’t lie to save his life, and now that sukuna knew what he needed to ask, he was gonna see what exactly yujis been hiding from him.

Sukuna didn't even remember his drive home, his mind was simply not present. He really truly hopes he’s being unreasonable and piecing together a theory that could very possibly be incorrect it was more than likely he was dead wrong and yet he's never felt so anxious in his life. You having a kid is enough of a shock for him— but it possibly being his? He cant even wrap his head around it. He actually finds himself hoping that its actually gojos, because if you knew… if you knew the kid was sukunas and didn’t tell him. He doesnt even stop to allow a logical thought like adoption or something, no he immediately jumped to conclusions, because when it was you all rationality was thrown out the window.

As sukuna slammed his car door, fumbling with the keys in his hand and struggled with the door knob just long enough that yuji swung the door open with an agitated look on his face — frustrated because he had to pause the movie he was watching when it was at the best part.

But the frantic look in sukunas eyes was enough to have yuji quickly making his way back to the couch

“Wait” sukuna said so quietly yuji would’ve missed it had the house not been dead silent

Yuji turned awkwardly to look at his brother. Yuji was never truly afraid of his brother, he’d always considered him all bark no bite, but there was something about the almost crazed state he was in that made yuji doubt that judgement in this moment. What could possibly have him this frantic? Yuji wondered, it was truly out of character for his brother, he was always composed even in the worst situations. Yujis breathing got heavier as he realized theres exactly one thing— one person, who could have him on edge like this. He’s scared to think of what would come out of sukunas mouth next

Sukuna mumbled your name so quietly, it was enough for yujis to hold his breath as he waited for sukuna to continue “does she have a kid?”

Yujis eyes widened and he took a few steps backwards, his heart was beating so fast he swears you’d be able to hear it thudding. How sukuna found this out was still a complete mystery, yuji swallowed slowly trying to think of words to say but this was not his conversation to have. Did sukuna talk to you? Or Gojo? Yuji genuinely had no words, nor was he ready for this.

[temis-de-leon]

Day 12 - Upside down kiss

Characters: Satan x fem!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: asshole cat, accidental nudity, pre-established relationship

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MC had mixed feelings about the height of this particular tree. While it brought an enormous shade to the courtyard, offering shelter to both students and animals during storms or abnormally hot days, it also made the resolution of certain… peculiar situations close to impossible.

For instance, no one without wings or unbreakable bones should climb the tree.

So, MC.

In her defence, however, it should be taken into consideration that going up wasn’t her intention. Rather the opposite, actually, she wanted the cat to come down.

She’d never seen an animal like that, with a fur so lustrous it shone under the Devildom’s eternal moonlight. Toxic green eyes stared at her while she cooed and called for its attention, not offering any type of response. And maybe it was her crush’s delusional love for felines taking over her actions, but MC couldn’t see other solution beyond using magic to lure him down.

It didn’t work, of course, because when did something ever work for her? Summoning toys and treats not only was useless, but it also made the cat look at her with disdain, and when she tried to summon the damn creature itself, the words of the incantation and her intentions mixed up and did exactly what she didn’t want to do.

Before MC knew it, the branch where the cat was resting met her face at vertiginous speed. The bark scratched her hands when she desperately grasped it and an infestation of what looked like a mutation of fire ants quickly crawled over her skin, their bites slowly covering wherever they could reach.

Her own weight would be her own downfall; she could notice her fingers struggling to hold on. So, grimacing at the sight of the fire ants, she hoisted herself up and hugged the branch with her legs. Thankfully, the uniform skirt protected her most private and sensitive regions, but her butt didn’t have the same luck.

A wave of panic made her sweat, the bites on her hand, her ankles and her calves more noticeable than ever. Meanwhile, the cat stared at her with amusement.

If the cursed creature even thought of biting or scratching her, she would send it to oblivion and she would not care.

“MC?”

His voice, although it sounded like heaven at the moment, also made her feel deeply embarrassed.

She let her head fall and looked at Satan upside down, not finding herself able to enjoy his handsome features. Blood was quickly rushing down and, added to the pain from the fire ants and the harsh edges of the bark, she wasn’t feeling too good anymore.

“What are you doing there?”

Always the curious mind and slow to empathise in this type of situations, Satan walked until he was below her, where he stayed with a hand on his hip and another one on his chin.

“Proving my stupidity, clearly” MC said in a snide remark, swallowing a sob when her fingers throbbed too much to keep holding on.

In a moment of desperation, she slowly moved her legs so she could hook them over the branch. Her stomach tensed for a couple of seconds while she let herself hang upside down and her hands immediately flew to her skirt to keep her underwear hidden.

It was uncomfortable, mortifying and painful and the moment she stopped, MC wondered why the hell she did it in the first place.

That damn cat.

“Well, no need to be like that” he murmured with a sad pout “I just wanted to know if you needed any help”

MC sighed, but her head was too filled with blood to feel entirely guilty.

“Yeah, I need it… I’m sorry, Satan”

“It’s okay, I understand. That doesn’t look comfortable”

“It isn’t! And it’s starting to hurt!”

“Well, don’t panic” he shushed with slight impatience, looking at her figure and searching for a way to help her “I think I can grab you and help you get down”

Satan didn’t wait for a response, lifting his arms to firmly grip her ribs. The contact made her feel an extra amount of warmth in her face and she prayed he didn’t feel her fastened heartbeat, but judging from his face, not only he did, he was also enjoying it.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that. Are you telling me you don’t like this as much as I do? You can’t hide from me, MC”

“You’re infuriating”

“Sure” he laughed.

“Can’t you go faster?”

Satan chuckled again before suddenly frowning, a blush covering his entire face. He avoided her gaze for just a couple of seconds before looking at her with bashfulness.

“I will… With an incentive…”

He didn’t say anything else and MC realized he was patiently waiting for her permission. With a slight swing, she moved forward and kissed him.

It was weird, not an ideal first kiss, but they didn’t care. His fingers curled over her skin with gentleness, the air coming out of his nose tickling her cheek.

Before she could think about it, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair, somehow softer than she could ever imagine.

Then, a piece of fabric fell down. Cold breeze caressed her upper thighs.

Gasping in horror, she got away from him.

“My skirt!”

.

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Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @beatlebeesstuff   @mehkers

[blank-slate-jay]

Gone Too Long

Summary: Joel embraces you after you had gone missing for some time.

Joel Miller x Male Reader

Word Count : 1.2k

Tags: Angst, Comfort, Soft!Joel

A/N: Here's a short one for you! Took me a couple hours to write, so hope it turns out enjoyable.

Still nothing, still the gates stayed shut just as they were three days ago.

You, and a few other residents in Jackson, had yet to return from your patrols. The objective for your group was quite simple, clear out any infected in your assigned area. The danger levels were not as high, since Jackson would routinely send out their finest members to keep infected from coming into the radius of their walls, mitigating any chances of anyone getting hurt. The odds were stacked in their favor, but it wasn’t certain. 

Tommy and Maria were standing among an ever growing crowd close by the gates of their town. Both arguing with his older brother, Joel, and a few other of the residents who insisted they send a search party for their missing loved ones.

The people shouted, “How long until we do something”, “My daughter is out there!”

Concern was rising, tensions were high but Maria opped to calm the people down. Using her hand to assert some level of control, she tries settling the worried crowd while Joel and Tommy were arguing just behind her. 

“I already told you, we don’t have the guys to be sending out there, right now,” Tommy explained.

Joel shook his head, “It’s been days Tommy, days since we’ve heard from them”.

“What can we do? We already advised our patrols to be on the lookout. Even the ones that were sent out this mornin’.”

Joel scuff, “They ain’ looking for them, they’re just doing their damn job.”

“And that's the best we can do” Tommy says.

Joel opened his mouth but closed it after, turning his head in frustration. He knew by this point that continuing a dispute with Tommy was just a waste of time. He felt every second that wasn’t dedicated to finding you was a waste of time. In fact everything felt that way to him, why bother getting people involved when he could just do it himself.

“I’ll go,” Joel concludes, his back turned to Tommy making his way to the stable. 

Tommy quickly chases after him, “Joel. Hey!” He grabs his brother’s arm, who shooed it away. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You don't know where they are…how you're going to get to them…”

“I’ll find a way, I always do”, Joel states sternly.

“You’ll find a way to get yourself killed.”

Joel stops where he’s at and turns to Tommy, “Yeah? At least someone actually give a damn around here! If-” Joel halts his words gathering up his thoughts, “I can’t lose him. If..if something happened to him I…god,” his breath was unsteady. 

There was a brief change in Joel's expression, one Tommy hadn’t seen in a long time; desperation. It was quick though, so fast that he would’ve missed it if he’d blinked, before Joel changed back to his almost demeaning expression.

Tommy knew how much you meant to Joel, how much he cared for you. The man’s heart seemed to be growing back, to take that away from him…again…Tommy definitely didn’t want to see that. Maria came to mind and how he’d react if she was in your predicament. Maybe he’d do the same too.

Tommy pursed his lips, grasping the weight of the situation from Joel’s perspective. He nods his head, allowing his brother to go through with his plan. However, Joel wasn’t looking Tommy in the eyes anymore. His attention was caught by something just over his brother’s shoulder. He moves forward, with Tommy following him with his eyes, Joel stops after a few steps. 

Now in the same direction of Joel, Tommy could now see it too. The gate was beginning to open. The watchers were waving down to the people below that something was wrong. The two men wasted no time making their way over to the gate.

Maira quickly got the crowd to back into the sidewalks, “This way, this way people.” With everyone clear for those on the other side of the gate, it continued to open until stopping at its limit. Your group, the ones that had gone missing, finally made it back to town. The group trotted into town, looking as if they had all seen a ghost. Only three horses had returned instead of four, with one of the patrol members mounted on your horse completely battered. Things didn’t look too good. 

You dismount your horse, careful not to knock your comrade off with you. “Come” you say, pulling the injured member down. A random lady had called out to her, claiming her as her ‘daughter’. She cries out along with the injured lady as they hug one another. A smile running across your face, happy that you saved a family member from having to deal with the loss of a loved one. Maria came up to you with concern in her face, “You alright?”

You titled your head momentarily, “Could be better.”

“I feel it might be too soon to ask what happened," she replies.

You appreciated her concern, as you didn’t really want to talk about it, at least not right now. You watched as the other members dismounted from their horses while coming up with a response, “It was awful, a couple of raiders got us and-” you didn’t bother to finish your statement since Maria didn’t push you to complete it. You sigh, looking about the subsiding crowd, “Is Tommy here? Joel?”

Maria, “Uh, they were just here not long ago…oh…right over there.”

Your eyes gaze in the direction she points. Your heart jumps, seeing him. Joel, standing still while his brother began toward you and Maria. Tommy’s frame was starting to block your view of Joel, so you paced over to him. You collide with Tommy, shaking his hand as he places his other hand on your shoulder. You exchange greetings without saying a word, he motions to Joel who still was stunned. Tommy’s gaze and small smile telling you to, ‘Go hug your damn man’. Letting go of his hand, you make your way to Joel in strides. He finally started moving, your name escaping his lips as he started jogging toward you. 

Next thing you know, you two are embracing. Like magnets, you latch onto each other dearly. Your vision blurred, watery, swearing that Joel was the one squeezing the tears out of you. You wished that were true, only it wasn’t and you were just ecstasy to see him again.

A tear rolled down your face, as you huffed, “Joel” sounding like you questioned if he was even real.

Joel’s rough hand ran up your back, leading all the way to the back of your neck. “I’m here, baby…I’m right here”. His voice, so close to your ears, it was enough to take all your worries away. 

For Joel, he trembled, more so than you were for different reasons then you. He could tell your time out there was nightmare fuel, hellish to an extent. The man wanted nothing but to tear down everything that brought harm to you out there. If it meant a few people, multiple gangs or the whole damn world, he'd do it. But now, you needed him, and Joel wasn’t planning on going anywhere. 

He turns his head to place a kiss along your cheek, continuing to reassure you of your safety. With his free hand going in circles around your back, he softly states, “Let it out, you’re home now”. 

You did just that, silently tearing up into the man's shoulders. Hearing his words made you relax further into his hold, your head resting against his cheek. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of Joel’s jacket consume you. His heat grounded you, ensuring that you were in fact, home.

[hirukochan]

I’d love to request something if you don’t mind I think your writing would be perfect for an interrogation type dynamic the reader has some type of information that snape needs and he essentially edges, teases and all that good stuff too the reader until they give in.

I don’t know if that’s too much but i absolutely love your work and think you’d transform it in to something soooooo good

Took me a bit - I've written something similar during spy training in Your tears are of no relevance to me and wanted to mix it up a bit - I'm not sure I achieved that but I like it anyway xD.

I hope you like it too!

Ministry Documents

Severus SnapexReader

Words: 3415

Warnings: Um....non-con. Because it's an interrogation (duh)...Dark!Snape, reader has a vagina, edging (duh²), rough sex....yeah, I guess that is it.

Summary: You are the Senior Undersecretary to Minister Scrimgeour and Snape a Death Eater who wants senstive information from you.

“You won’t get away with this you bastard!” You shout and tug at the restraints around your wrists behind your back. You put your entire weight into it, but all it archives is the chair you’re tied to scooting over the ground with a sharp screech that makes the insides of your ears contract.

“And who’s going to stop me?” He laughs, glowering, deep and taunting.

“You always were one nasty piece of shit, Snape!”

“Ohhh noo…the woman I drugged and tied to her chair in her own fucking office is mean to me!” He says in a whiny mock voice. “How will I ever recover?” Snape appears in your line of sight and braces his hands against the backrest of your chair, just above your shoulders. 

He is grinning, bearing his yellow, crooked teeth. An evil glimmer shines in his dark eyes, half obscured by curtains of greasy black hair.

“You won’t get away with this! I am the senior undersecretary to Minister Rufus Scrimgeour! If you think you can just-”

“I repeat my question: Who’s going to stop me? You didn’t even notice the sedative in your tea, sweetheart.” He straightens back up and slowly undoes the buttons on his sleeves to roll them up. “This is how it will go. I will ask you questions and you will answer them. We don’t need to make this ugly - after all we don’t want anybody knowing you’ve betrayed the Ministry, right? How nonsensical to use you for information once and only once.” He shakes his head and moves on to his left sleeve. “If you are a good girl and answer my question I will reward you.”

“And if not?” You scoff. “I won’t talk, Snape! I work directly under the Minister - we are trained for these things!”

“I am certain you think you are trained to withstand interrogation…”

“Go ahead and kill me - don’t waste your time. I won’t talk.”

“That’s what they always say.” Snape hums. He folds his sleeve over one more time and twists his arm. The flickering light from the candles strewn around the room hits his inner underarm and you clench your teeth, glaring at the jet black mark blemishing Snape’s pale skin.

You knew it. You knew it back in school and you knew it when you were just a small, faceless employee keeping track of paperwork at his trial after You-Know-Who’s fall.

Severus Snape is a Death Eater.

You don’t care for Dumbledore’s talks of repentance and character growth or whatever the fuck he said at that trial.

Snape is not a changed man.

You clench your jaw and inhale sharply through your nose, preparing yourself for the torture that is no doubt going to follow.

“Where are the documents, sweetheart?”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. Be a good girl and tell me where the documents are.”

“I won’t tell you no matter what torture you show up with! You people will fail! You’ll lose because you are hateful, small minded, disgusting terrorists!”

“Torture? Oh sweetheart, He would not have send me here to torture you. I told you. We want to continue using your intel. Nobody will know we ever spoke.” He catches a strand of your hair between his fingers, brushing his knuckle over your cheek on purpose. You try to pull away, to escape his touch, but you are only reminded of the ropes digging into your skin. “Mhh..you always were a pretty thing.” He hums and leans down closer. The tips of his hair tickle your face. “And I always did wonder how you’d taste.” You can’t breathe. Your mind is racing. From fear to confusion, to trying to decipher his words back to searching for a way out. 

You scream. It’s late, whatever vile concoction Snape dumped into your tea it made you fall asleep at your desk and since the workload recently has been insane it’s not the first time that happens to you so your assistant would not suspect anything of it.

Snape just chuckles. 

“Nobody will hear you. Nobody will come to save you either. Where are the documents?”

You don’t respond. You’re fighting tears and the bitter taste in your mouth that comes from considering to just give Snape the documents and save your own skin.

You could.

Nobody would know.

No. No you won’t. This is bigger than you. This is about the kind of world you’ll be living in in the future and you don’t want to see a world in which You-Know-Who rules!

“I’ll tell you nothing!” Snape looks like he got exactly the answer he was looking for. Like a little child on Christmas morning.

He gips the leg of your chair and pulls it over the floor, turning it to face away from your desk and the door. You let out a surprised shriek.

“I was hoping you’d say that. How boring to just get what I came here without playing a little first, hm?”

“Play-” Your pathetic stuttering is cut short by Snape straddling your thighs. His weight is crushing, his proximity uncomfortable. His hand closes around your throat and Snape smashes his lips against yours. You squeak and struggle against him. His grip around your throat tightens. Tears burn in your eyes.

Snape hums, a sound full of dark satisfaction and pleasure. His tongue flicks over your lips and you press them together harder. He spreads his saliva over your lips, slimy and warm. With his free hand he grabs your face and forces your jaw open to shove his tongue into your mouth.

You can’t breathe. Between his hard kiss and pressure on your throat you are trapped in an empty space between living and dying.

“I knew you’d taste sweet.” He coos as he pulls back, but he doesn’t let go of your face. You struggle and try to close your mouth but Snape is entirely unbothered by it or your unintelligible protest. He pulls out a small vial from his robes and unstoppers it with his mouth before pouring its contents into your mouth and pressing his hand over it, pinching your nose at the same time.

“Be a good girl and swallow for daddy, yes?” He says mockingly. You want to scream, but that would only cause the liquid to slip down your throat, but keeping it in your mouth would surely make your body absorb its active ingredients as well, right?

Shit, you were never good in potions, but you know that Snape is a bloody genius.

Your breath runs out. You tear at the restraints but Snape just laughs. Tears run over your cheek. You close your eyes and swallow.

“There you go.” He chuckles and removes his hands. You gasp and greedily fill your lungs with sweet sweet air - so much so you even forget to think about what that stuff was that he made you swallow.

You are not left wondering for long.

Heat grows in your lower abdomen like a wild beast woken from its hibernation by a stupid knight wanting to kill it, thinking in his immeasurable arrogance that he’d have a chance.

“Aww, are we having trouble, sweetheart?” Snape taunts. That evil glimmer in his eyes flares. 

You are fucked.

You know you are fucked, but you are also stubborn. 

You bite your lip and ignore what’s happening to your body. The heat, the burning, undying, deafening need tearing through your cunt with the force of an unforgivable.

Snape laughs again, clearly enjoying the expression of realisation and horror in your eyes.

“So, sweetheart. Be a good girl and I’ll give you precisely what it is you’re craving.”

You shake your head.

“No?” He pouts and somehow even that looks sadistic on his face. He licks his lips, his eyes darting over your body. He snaps his fingers. You scream, but Snape quickly covers your mouth with his hand. 

“None of that.” He says. “How silly. I’ve already told you nobody will hear you. You’ll only piss me off and that should be the last thing you want to do right now. Let’s see…” He scoots backwards on your thighs ever so slightly to have a better look at your body. Your naked body. You groan with the pain of his weight crushing your much smaller form. The wool of his clothes scrapes over your skin and sends shivers and prickles straight to your core.

“Mhhh…what a nice body you’ve kept hidden under these robes.”

“Stop-” You croak, staring at him through your cloudy eyes. 

“Stop? I haven’t even started yet, but if you tell me where those documents are I will.” You clench your teeth and shake your head. Snape hums thoughtfully. He cups your breast and you give a small jerk, more at the tingling sensation of his touch, than your horror at him touching you.

A simple touch should not feel so good-

You rip your eyes open and stare at Snape. A pleased expression breaks through the mocking sneer.

“Yes, sweetheart. The potion I gave you enhances all sensations. Pleasure…” He presses his thumb against your nipple, squeezing your breast gently, almost tender. “And pain.” He pinches your nipple and the pain of it explodes in your body and turns to an all consuming inferno of misery and you scream, throwing your head back with the force of it.

As soon as it started it stops. Snape rubs the assaulted nub and makes an apologetic tsk sound.

“If you’re a good girl I won’t have to do that again. If you decide to be a haughty little bitch I will.”

You take deep breaths, each one rattling with fear. You wet your lips and consider Snape’s face. This man is nothing like the greasy, neglected, insecure boy you’d see in the corridors from far away. His mere presence commands respect and deference.

“I can’t tell you.” You whisper. “I’d be fucked if I tell you.”

Snape clicks his tongue. “That’s the problem, sweetheart. You won’t be if you don’t.” He doesn’t give you time to process those words. His hand leaves your breast and drops between your legs, spread slightly due to the way he tied your feet to the legs of your chair. 

You can’t press your lips closed fast enough to suppress the utterly pathetic whimper that escapes you as soon as his calloused digit rubs over your clit.

Snape didn’t lie. The potion enhances all sensation.

Within seconds you feel like dying. Snape expertly guides you towards the edge, whispering promises of wonderful pleasure, of highs made up of pure ecstasy and lows made of thundering release. He shows you the way, presents the abyss as though you were a tourist in your own body and he the native.

You cry from horror and pleasure and thrash in your bounds and wish for it to end but also never stop.

You take a step forward, one testing motion, the abyss calls out to you, angels part the clouds and show their heavenly faces and sing their harmonies and you scream because yesyesyes-

Snape yanks you back.

You open your tear-clouded eyes and it takes a second for them to be able to focus on Snape. He is grinning.

“Where are the documents?”

“I hate you.” You pant. He shrugs and closes his lips around his glistening fingers. He hums. “Your cunt tastes even sweeter.”

“You disgust me!”

“Oh keep going, sweetheart. Toss your venom at me like I care.” Snape lets out a grading, cruel chuckle. “Though you might want to put some more heart in it. After all - I am used to people hating me.”

“Is that what this is about? Fuck! Snape, school’s over. Get the fuck over it!” Anger flashes over his face. He grabs your throat and pulls you as close as the bounds allow, causing the ropes to dig into your skin harshly and your shoulders to strain against the unnatural angle.

“The documents.”

“Go to hell.”

“Wrong answer.” He cups your sex roughly, pushing two fingers inside you with no warning and presses the heel of his palm against your clit. He keeps masterfully bringing you as close to the edge as humanly possible. He keeps pushing and pulling, forcing your body to submit to him - all the while watching you with perverse satisfaction. Like he is enjoying making you accept the pleasure he can bring you. Everytime he brings you closer to your orgasm and every time your stupid little brain thinks that maybe, maybe he’ll make you cum this time and every single time he doesn’t.

He raises you up and up and up towards bliss and release and ecstasy and every time he lets go of you and you plummet down into deep dark nothing. 

You shiver and tremble, cry and thrash against the restraints and Snape laughs. Everytime he denies you your release he’ll ask “Where are the documents?” in that soft, almost apologetic tone of voice. And every time you will not tell him, but your resistance shrivels further.

Your biting venom trickles out to a displeased rainfall until it’s a sobbing, heaving, pathetic mess.

You are limp in your restraints. The muscles in your thighs tremble from exertion and your tears have run dry, leaving only the messed up, dark residue of your mascara on your cheeks.

You take a shuddering breath, that is cut short by a sob. Snape is thrusting his fingers lazily into your sore, twitching cunt.

“Where are the documents, sweetheart?”

“N-no-” You whimper.

“Is this job worth it? Come one…you are suffering…let me relieve you.”

“I’m- i’m not keeping you- you are-” You bite your lip in hopes it’ll stop you from further embarrassing you.

“But you are.” He says softly and brushes a sweat soaked strand of hair out of your face. “My master would not be very happy with me if I were to return without the documents, hm? I want to help you. I want to let you cum. Be a good girl and I can.”

“No-”

“Such potential. Truly wasted on the Ministry. Does the Minister even know about all the work you put in, hm? Does he even appreciate it?”

“Nnhh- mh- please-” Did you just- 

The corners of Snape’s mouth curl and it breaks through his mask of care of sympathy with ugly self-satisfaction and sadistic gratification.

“Yes?”

“Please- please I need-”

“Where are the documents?”

“No-”

Snape thrusts his fingers harder into you, curling them at the same time and pushing up and he hits that sweet sweet spot with expert skill and you cry out and shake your head, squirming underneath him.

Snape leans in. The tip of his nose brushes against your sweat-soaked temple.

“Tell me and I’ll fuck you. I’ll let you cum all over my cock like a good little cocksleeve. I’ll make you feel so good, sweetheart. So good, even the memory charm I’ll use on you won’t be enough to make you forget how hard you came for me.”

“-no…”

“Face it, your colleagues would not fight as hard for you. The Ministry has been doomed to fall and crumble to ashes for a while. We are everywhere, sweetheart. We have already infiltrated the Ministry. We are in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We’re in every position of power that matters. The Ministry will fall, the Minister will die. It’s your choice whether you die with them.”

“Please-”

“I know, I know.” He purrs and strokes your hair. “You need to cum, don’t you? You’ve been doing so well…You’ve been withstanding me beautifully. But you’re tired, aren’t you? Nobody will ever know you’ve told me. Let me make you cum, make it so I can allow you to rest, hm?” You inch towards your orgasm again and Snape stops his torturous attention.

“Behind the painting.” You whimper. Your voice uneven and croaky.

“Behind the painting?” Snape repeats in such an oddly soft and caring voice and you actually believe him that he doesn’t like doing this to you. You nod. He gets up and your legs scream in relief. The chair under you is wet with your arousal and sweat and your thighs are chafed from the friction of Snape moving on top of you.

Snape goes to the painting and taps it a couple of times with his wand. It swings open and reveals a hidden safe. 

“Only you can open it, I assume?” You nod, weak and tired, exhausted and yet painfully on edge. Snape flicks his wand at you and the restraints disappear. He motions for you to come to him. You do, but your legs feel like jelly and protest against movement after being confined for so long.

You place your hand against the safe. It recognises your magic and the internal mechanisms start working, rattling and clicking before the door finally pops open. Snape rummages through it, while you hold onto the file cabinet to not fall.

“Very good.” He says as he flips through a folder. He shrinks it with his wand and stuffs it into his pocket. “What a good girl.” Snape seizes you by your upper arms and you slump against him. He catches your lips in a feral, claiming kiss that you are too tired and weak to either fight - or worse - reciprocate. He turns you both around and slams your back against the wall, putting his hands under your thighs and lifting you. You can’t wrap your legs around him or hold onto him. His weight against yours is the only thing keeping you pinned to the wall and your mind is too far gone to be afraid of falling.

Snape makes quick work of his belt and even quicker of shoving his cock into you. He groans and slams his hips into yours with brutal force. You squeak and limply put your hands on his shoulders.

“A good girl that has earned herself some cock, what do you say?” He grunts. “Isn’t this much better?”

“Snape-” You moan and drop your head against the wall. You can’t even shudder under the force of your orgasm that finally finally is allowed to take your body over, spreading through your entire being, burning hot like molten lava. 

Snape pounds into you, grunting and groaning and whispering filthy praise and you whimper and whine with what little life you have left in you.

He makes you cum two more times on his cock, but by the second your eyes keep falling shut against your will and your hands slide down from his shoulders, over his chest.

“We’ll get along just grand won’t we, sweetheart? Yes, you might not remember any of this, but I will come back and when you see me it all will come back to you.” His thrusts falter and he pulls out of you, letting you slip down the wall until you’re a trembling, boneless mess to his feet.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and tilts your head back, pumping his cock, his cockehead pressed against your lips. You force your eyes open and look up, meeting the dark, stormy gaze of Snape. He is smirking.

“We’ll have a lot of fun.” He says and then he cums, smearing his cum all over your lips and cheek and then the world goes black.

You wake up in your bed, sitting up straight. You feel weird. Like you had a nightmare you can’t quite remember, but the bad feeling lingers, following you back into the waking world. You run your hands over your face and groan.

Your assistant is right. You are working too much. All this stress isn’t good for you. You still have vacation days left…perhaps you should take them. You never wanted to out of fear of letting down your colleagues but they don’t share that opinion, do they? Why should you work yourself to death while they don’t….

You scribble a note on a piece of parchment and whistle. Your owl flutters into your bedroom. You tie the letter to her leg and she flutters through the window.

You’ve earned a vacation. 

You lie back down, wondering what you did to feel sore? Your knickers feel damp too and you have a weird taste in your mouth.

Maybe you’re coming down with a fever. You always have weirdly erotic dreams when you get sick….yes that must be it.

You close your eyes and let exhaustion and tiredness take you.

[novamariestark]

hey! i love your page, also equally in love with hank 😂

here me out: reader just starts at CPD and is super close with erin, maybe they knew each other before the reader gets the job. erin sets up the reader on a blind date because she’s been trying to get over her toxic ex and it’s not working out too great. olinsky sets up hank on a blind date at the same spot the reader is going to. both of their dates don’t show up and so the two think they are there to meet each other. they hit it off and maybe later that night erin has to stop by hank’s place to get some paperwork. he doesn’t answer the door so erin lets herself in and walks in on the reader and hank

Give Your Heart A Break - H.V.

Loved this idea so much. I hope I haven't butchered it 🤣😭

Might make a part 2 for the part where she (aka you) joins CPD

Summary: You were set up on a blind date. So was Hank. But what happens when your best friend catches you having sex with her foster dad. (hey you didn't know)

Warnings: bad smut, age gap, oral (f receiving), piv (protected) proofread but I'm still certain that a ghost edits it after I post it 🤣

Word count: 4463

Fandom: Chicago PD

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

“Come on, girl, you have to get back out there,” you friend of 10 year tells you. Yeah, maybe you did, but you sure as hell didn’t feel confident enough to do so.

Not after him.

Your ex wasn’t just toxic, he was the kind of poison that seeped into every part of your life. He made you second-guess everything—what you wore, how you laughed, even how you felt about yourself. It took you too long to realize that his “love” came with a price: your self-worth. And even now, 11 months after leaving him, you still felt the weight of his voice in the back of your mind, telling you no one else would want you.

Maybe they wouldn’t. Sometimes you stare into the mirror and just think that maybe he was right.

You tug at the sleeve of your jacket, fidgeting with the worn fabric like it might somehow make your nerves chill the fuck out. The mirror is still in front of you, the reflection of your own lifeless eyes staring back. You hate what you see. The way your shoulders seem to slump a little lower than they used to, the way your eyes don’t light up the way they used to when you laughed. If you even laugh anymore. It’s like you’ve been trying to fit into a mold he made, and now there’s just this empty version of yourself left behind.

But Erin... Erin wasn’t going to let you disappear into yourself. She refused to let you wallow, even if that meant dragging you back into the dating world so suddenly. You were sure you heard her wrong when she said that she had set you up on a blind date.

“I don’t know, Erin,��� you mutter, still fiddling with the sleeve. Your eyes flick to her reflection in the mirror, her expression soft but stubborn to get you out of your little comfort zone and back in the world of the living. The look that says she’s not giving up on you, no matter how hard you try to push her away.

Her hand finds your shoulder, squeezing gently. “What if he’s not like that?” she says, reading the fear in your silence. “What if he’s good for you? What if he makes you smile again?”

The words hit you hard, and not in the comforting way Erin probably meant. What if—you hate those words. Those two words are a double-edged sword. They offer hope but never any certainty. What if he’s just like the last one? What if you’re not ready? What if you’re never ready?

You take a deep breath, “And what if I’m not enough?” The words slip out before you can stop them. You feel exposed, vulnerable.

Erin frowns, stepping in front of you, her hands finding yours. “You are enough. More than enough. And you deserve more than what that asshole put you through. Way more.” She tilts her head, waiting for your eyes to meet hers. “But you’re never going to know until you start living again.”

She’s right, and you know it. But knowing it and believing it are two very different things.

“I guess…” you start, but your voice cracks slightly. “I guess I just don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

“I get that,” Erin replies, her voice softer now. “But staying stuck in the past isn’t going to fix anything. You’ve got to take the leap sometime, right?”

“Fine,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll go.”

Erin’s smile is immediate, like she knew you’d say yes all along. “You won’t regret this, I promise.” Like you could ever say no to her. She’s been your rock.

Every minute from that moment felt like an hour. You’re know staring into your closet, feeling like you’ve got nothing to wear. Everything you own seems to either scream “I’m still recovering” or “I’m so not ready for this.” Before you know it, you bed looks like a garage sale. You’ve tried on thirteen outfits already, and each one feels more wrong than the last.

“Are you still in there?” Erin’s voice calls from the other side of your bedroom door. “Do you need some help?”

You sigh, slumping onto the edge of your bed. “I’m not sure what to wear. Nothing feels right.”

The door swings open, and Erin steps in, her eyes scanning the mess of clothes, amusement dancing on her smile. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

You rise and let Erin sift through the chaos on your bed.. She always seems so effortlessly put together. You, on the other hand, feel like you were just stumbling your way through life.

“Okay, let’s start with this,” Erin says, pulling out a sleek, navy dress from the pile. “This is simple but elegant. It’s not too flashy, but it’s definitely date-worthy.”

You eye the dress sceptically. “Is it too much? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

Erin gives you a reassuring smile. “Trust me, it’s perfect. It’s all about how you feel in it. Confidence is key, and this dress will definitely help with that.” You take the dress from her and head to the bathroom to change. The moment you slip it on, for the first time today, you don’t feel like a total disaster. The dress skims your figure comfortably, and you can’t help but notice that it makes you look—dare you say it—almost radiant.

When you emerge, Erin’s eyes light up. “See? I told you it would look amazing.”

You spin around slightly with a little giggle slipping from your lips, feeling the soft fabric sway. “It does feel nice. Thanks for helping.”

“You look great. But let’s not forget the finishing touches.” She rummages through your jewellery box and selects a pair of simple, elegant earrings that match your dress.

After you put them on, she leads you to the mirror, “See, a beautiful Goddess and it’s quite rude to keep it to yourself” You laugh at her comment and glance at yourself in the mirror. For the first time in a long time, you actually like what you see. The dress, the earrings, the way your hair falls in perfect waves. You still have a bit of anxiety gnawing at you, but the reflection staring back at you reminded you of who you used to be, and not that hollow robot.

“Alright,” Erin says, giving you a final once-over. “You’re all set. You look amazing. Remember, tonight is just about having a good time. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Erin. I really appreciate all this.”

Erin gives you a hug, her support tangible. “Anytime. Now go out there and show him what you’re made of.”

When you showed up at the restaurant, a woman asked if you had a reservation and you gave her your name. She seats you at a table for two, and you wait.

And wait.

Your date didn’t show up. Classic. You should have known it would be a disaster. In fact. You did.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, trying to look like you weren’t bothered. You kept checking your phone, hoping for a text or a call that never came. The couple at the table across from you seemed to mock your attempts to stay optimistic. You had just started mentally preparing yourself for the ride home when a guy approached your table.

“Sorry I’m late, they seemed to have seated me at the wrong table,” he chuckled nervously, “I thought you stood me up,”

You matched his nervous chuckle, “I thought you had done the same,”

It was a bit awkward at first—two strangers just being thrown together. But you quickly fell into conversation, and you began to relax. You talked about everything and the more you talked, the easier it became.

As you talked, you noticed how effortlessly he made you feel at ease. His stories about work and his mild self-deprecating humor were refreshing. It was like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in the toxic, stifling environment of your previous relationship. The way he listened, really listened, made you feel valued. You hadn’t realized how much you missed that.

You laughed more tonight than you had in months. And the more you laughed, the more you felt like yourself again. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

By the end of the night, when you were getting kicked out, you realised that you had literally talked the night away. Hank suggested you continue at his place. The offer was casual, and there was nothing overtly romantic about it—just a simple invitation to continue the conversation. You hesitated at first, but something about him made you feel safe. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, like he genuinely wanted to get to know you better. Or maybe it was the comfort you felt in his presence, something rare and precious.

You found yourself saying yes, almost against your better judgment. You felt a flutter of excitement—something else you haven’t felt in a while.

--

As you walked to his place, the cold air kissing your cheeks, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something. Something that could fill the emptiness that had been carved into your soul. And maybe, just maybe, something that could make you feel alive again.

Hank’s house was cozy and filled with the faint scent of pine, probably from his cologne. You took off your coat and he offered you a drink, which you accepted—a glass of wine to calm your nerves. You sat on the couch, the cushions sinking under your weight, and he sat next to you.

The conversation flowed easily as you sipped your wine. His eyes never left yours, and you found yourself leaning closer without even realizing it.

The TV played in the background, a dull hum of noise that was easy to ignore. You talked about everything from your favorite movies to your deepest fears. Hank spoke about his passion for his job, how it consumed him, but also gave him a sense of purpose. You spoke about your love for art, how it was your escape from the real world.

As the night grew late, the tension between you thickened like the air before a storm. You felt it in the way your leg brushed against his, in the way your fingers hovered just a little too long over his hand when you laughed at his jokes. You were aware of every inch of space that existed between you, and every part of you craved to fill it.

But did he feel the same?

You took a sip of your wine, the liquid warmth spreading through your chest and down to your fingertips. Hank’s hand reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face. His touch was gentle, tender, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You placed your hand over his, looking into his eyes, not really wanting his touch to leave.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” he said, his voice a soft rumble.

You let out a breathy laugh "It's been a long time since anyone's said that... well, apart from my best friend" you say referring to Erin. Hank's gaze remained on you, a soft smile playing on his lips. He leaned in closer, his hand still resting gently on yours.

"That's a damn crime," Hank murmured, his eyes searching yours. His thumb began to trace lazy circles on the back of your hand, sending a wave of heat through you. You hadn't felt this way in so long— seen, appreciated, desired. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt your heart begin to race, your palms soaked as though there was group of rivers flowing across them.

Hank leaned in closer, his breath a warm whisper against your skin. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for consent. The question was so raw, so genuine, it melted away the last of your doubt. You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips met yours. It was a kiss filled with the promise of something more, a gentle reminder that you were still here, still feeling.

You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you melted into him. The kiss grew more urgent, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It was like your bodies were trying to remember a dance they hadn't performed in a long time, but the rhythm came back so naturally.

His hands slid down your back, caressing your curves, and you gasped into his mouth as he deepened the kiss. You pull away for a moment, panting, looking into his eyes that are filled with a hunger that matches your own. "I...I need to tell you something," you manage to say between breaths.

"What is it?" Hank asks, his voice thick with need, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You take a deep breath, feeling a little embarrassed of what you were about to say, "It's been a while for me. And I'm a little... nervous."

Hank's expression softens, and he cups your face in his hands. "It's okay," he whispers, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "We don't have to if you don't -"

"I want to"

The words came out in a rush, surprising both of you. You hadn’t realized how badly you wanted this—how much you needed it. Hank’s eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you were unsure.

"You're sure?" he asks, his voice hoarse. You nod, and the next moment his mouth is on yours again, more insistent than before. You feel the couch dip as he shifts closer, his body pressing against yours. His hands move to the zipper of your dress, and you let him, your own trembling hands working on the buttons of his shirt.

As the fabric falls away, you can feel the heat of his skin, and you realize that maybe—just maybe—this is what you’ve been waiting for. This connection, this raw, primal need that is so much more than just lust. It’s like he’s peeling back the layers of doubt and fear that you’ve wrapped around yourself, and you’re letting him in, even if it’s just for tonight.

Hank’s hands are sure, yet gentle, as he helps you out of the dress, his eyes never leaving yours. You stand before him in your underwear, feeling a mix of vulnerability and excitement. His gaze sweeps over you, and you can see the desire in his eyes. You remember what it’s like to be wanted, and it sends confidence soaring through you. Before your mind can talk you out of it, you straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of him.

His hands glide up your thighs, sending a tingling sensation through your body. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace the edges of your underwear, and you lean in to kiss him again, deep and needy. His hands move to your back, unhooking your bra that surprises you. It falls away, and his hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. A moan escapes your lips, and he swallows it with his own.

The fabric of his pants is rough against the thin material of your panties as you rock your hips into him. His hands slide down to your ass, lifting you slightly so you can feel him pressing against you. The anticipation is unbearable, a sweet agony that makes you whimper. He kisses you harder, his tongue delving into your mouth as he rolls you onto your back on the couch. His body follows, covering yours, his weight pressing you into the cushions.

He kisses down your neck, nipping gently at your collarbone, making you arch your back. His hand slides under your panties, his thumb circling your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you. You grip his shoulders, your nails digging in as he teases you, bringing you closer to the edge.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and you can feel his own arousal pressing against you, demanding more. You reach down and unbuckle his belt, pulling his zipper down. He shifts, standing to shed his pants, and you see his erection, full and thick. Your own need spikes, and you can’t help but reach out and touch him, your hand wrapping around his length. He groans, his eyes closing briefly in pleasure.

You kiss him again, your hips grinding against him, desperate for relief. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls it down, leaving you bare to him. His eyes rove over your body, drinking in the sight of you. You feel exposed, but also powerful. He kisses his way down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. When he reaches your core, he looks up, making eye contact as he runs his tongue along your folds. You gasp, your body jolting.

He tastes you, exploring you with a hunger that's both thrilling and terrifying. Your fingers reach down to rest on his head, guiding him closer as he teases your clit. Your fingers definitely didn’t make you feel this good. Your legs quiver, and you’re so close, so close to letting go. But then he stops, leaving you trembling on the edge.

Hank kisses his way back up your body, his eyes never leaving yours. “Ready?” he asks, his voice gruff with desire. You nod, unable to form words. He reaches into his nightstand and grabs a condom, ripping it open with his teeth. The simple action is so erotic that you can’t help but bite your bottom lip.

He rolls it on and then, finally, he’s inside you. You gasp as he fills you, the feeling of fullness and the stretch of his cock making you feel alive again. It’s been so long, and it hurts a bit, but you don’t care. You wrap your legs around him, urging him deeper, and he obliges, his strokes slow and steady, as if he’s savoring every moment.

You’re both panting, your breaths mingling in the stillness of his living room. The only sounds are the slap of skin on skin and the occasional groan that escapes your lips. His eyes never leave yours.

Hank’s movements become more urgent, his thrusts deeper. You can feel the tension building, a coil tightening in your stomach. You’re so close, so incredibly close. He must feel it too, because his strokes become more deliberate, his breathing more ragged. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he drives into you.

"What the hell?!" a voice yelled through the silence. The two of you stopped and looked to where the voice come from.

Your eyes widened when you saw your best friend standing there. You barely registered the words spilling out of your mouth as you screamed, "Oh my God, Erin, what are you doing here?" Every muscle in your body tensed, and instinctively, you grabbed the couch cushion, trying to cover yourself, but it was pointless.

You glanced at Hank, hoping for some kind of lifeline, but his expression mirrored yours: wide-eyed, frozen, and utterly shocked. Erin’s voice cut through the fog in your brain, sharp with anger and disbelief.

"I could ask you the same thing, Y/N," she spat. "What the fuck are you doing with him?"

The words felt like a slap, and you scrambled for some words, "You're the one who set the date up... you know, to bring me back to the world of the living?"

Then Erin said something that confused the shit out of you, "He's not the one I set you up with."

Wait, what? Confusion hit you like a truck. You could barely get the words out. "He's not?" Your voice cracked. You were suddenly hyper-aware of Hank hovering over you, both of you too stunned to move. He was staring at you for answers, but you had none. What is happening?

Then, Erin’s words sliced through the air: "She's my best friend, Hank." She glared at you, fury and disbelief simmering just beneath the surface. "And he is my foster dad."

The words hung in the air like a bomb, and your brain couldn’t process them fast enough. Her foster dad? Your stomach lurched, and you gulped, staring at Erin in shock. "Erin, I'm sorry," you stammered, barely able to get the words out. "I-I didn't know, we were both there for blind dates. I thought you'd set us up." You sounded pathetic, you felt pathetic. Your heart pounded in your chest as you silently begged for her to understand.

Erin’s focus shifted to Hank, who was just as lost as you. "You went on a blind date?" she asked him, her tone still simmering with disbelief.

"Alvin's idea," Hank muttered. His voice was soft now, he couldn’t believe the situation any more than you could, "Erin, I'm sorry."

You turned back to Erin, your stomach twisting painfully. "Please don't hate me," you begged. Erin was everything—your best friend, your anchor, the person who’d always been there for you through thick and thin. If you lost her over this... you don’t know what you’d do.

And then, in the most unexpected turn of events, Erin’s face softened. A small laugh bubbled out of her, and before you could understand what was happening, she was full-on laughing, wiping a tear from her eye.

Your jaw dropped as you stared at her, stunned. "What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you clung to the cushion for dear life.

Erin shook her head, still chuckling. "Oh my God, Y/N. I could never hate you." Her voice was lighter now, her anger gone. "I just... wasn’t expecting this. I’m going to have nightmares," she said, rubbing her temples.

Relief rushed through you, "You didn’t tell him about you-know-who, did you?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice. Because she knew full well that Hank would track him down and give him a taste of his own medicine.

You quickly shook your head, "No," you answered quietly, praying Hank wouldn’t press for details.

Hank, still utterly confused, looked between the two of you. "You know who?" His brow furrowed, suspicion creeping into his voice.

You shot Erin a quick glance before turning back to Hank, forcing a tight smile. "No one," you said quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. Please let this be the end of it.

“Well… uh… I’m going to head out. Um, you two enjoy the rest of your night,” she said as she headed towards the door, “Hank, you better be good to her."

Hank straightened up slightly, "Erin, I would never—"

But Erin cut him off with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, well, just remember," she said, her voice turning playful but with a subtle threat lurking underneath, "I know where you live."

As soon as the door clicked shut, the silence in the room felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. You and Hank were alone again.

"I guess we should talk," Hank said finally, breaking the silence. You nodded, still trying to get your breathing under control. "But not now," he added, giving you a small, sexy smile, "Now, I think we should finish what we started."

Hank leaned down and captured your mouth in another deep kiss. You kissed him back with the same intensity, your arms wrapping around his neck, your legs locking around his waist.

The shock of Erin’s interruption had passed, and the heat between the two of you roared back to life. Hank began to move again, his hips rocking into yours. You moaned into his mouth as he pushed deeper inside you, filling you up so good, that it sent your thoughts spiraling out of control.

Your hands roamed his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he moved above you, his breath hot against your neck. His mouth found your ear, and he whispered, “You’re mine tonight, baby.” The possessiveness in his voice went straight to your core and you let out a moan. You could feel his smirk on your neck as he nipped and sucked at the soft flesh.

You arched your back, urging him deeper, and he responded with a groan, his pace quickening. The couch creaked under your weight, accompanied by your gasps and his grunts. You could feel your climax building, a pressure that grew more intense with every stroke.

“Harder,” you breathed, and Hank complied, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you, the sound of your flesh slapping together filling the room. You were lost in the sensation, the delicious friction of his cock rubbing against your g-spot driving you wild. You threw your head back as Hank's hand found your sensitive bundle of nerves and began to rub it in time with his thrusts, "fuck" you had not felt this good in a while.

And then it hit you. That sweet, powerful release that had been building. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you screamed. The pleasure was so intense that you couldn't contain it, and Hank groaned as he felt your walls tighten around him. He thrust into you one last time, his own climax following yours.

You both collapsed into the couch cushions, breathless and spent. Hank kissed the top of your head, before he got up to get a cloth to clean you up and some spare clothes. You both sat down to watch the tv. You snuggled up to him and before you knew it, you fell asleep in his arms.

Hank carries you to his bed and covers you up and as he starts to pull away, you whisper, "Stay," your voice thick with sleepiness.

He pauses, looking down at you with a soft smile. "You sure?" he asks.

You nod, feeling a sudden, desperate need for his warmth beside you. "Yeah," you murmur, your eyes already drifting shut.

Hank pulls back the covers and slides in beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. You fit perfectly, as though you were two puzzle pieces finally coming together. His heart beats a steady rhythm against your back, and you feel your own heart rate slow to match it. He kisses the nape of your neck, his breath warm and comforting. You snuggle closer, feeling safe in his arms.

Thought this song went well with this.

[louloulemons-posts]

The Criminal And The Princess II

Grumpy!College!Eddie X Sunshine!Skater!Reader

Summary : Edens dad is pushing her to breaking point, but when Steve Harrington suggests going to a gig, they stumble upon who she never thought she’d see.

Word Count : 2k

Warnings : not much eddie (i’m sorry), shitty parents, once again talk of eating, girlhood, nancy is sad, swearing, billy hargrove.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Again!”

“Dad I have to go I have class,” I sighed, skating towards him. “Regionals are coming up how are you expecting to win if you’re still so sloppy?” he snapped at me.

“Maybe I don’t want to win! Maybe I don’t even wanna go to fucking regionals!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

“Your mother-“ I didn’t give him the chance to finish, “I’m not mom!”

With a deep breath, i spoke calmly, “I know you miss her, god dad I do too, but me skating, won’t bring her back.” The man who I love so dearly didn’t say a word, his dark eyes stern. “Just go Eden.”

“Dad-“

“And don’t worry about dinner on Friday.”

“Dad come on-“

“You need to lose the weight anyways.” I sucked in a breath, but said nothing more as I watched the greying man walk up the stairs and slamming the door to his office.

Rubbing my hand to my face I sat down on the cold plastic bench, taking off my skates and replacing them with my trainers. Throwing my oversized hoodie on, I headed out of the rink and to my car.

“E!” a voice called out.

“Harrington,” I replied, as the brunette jogged over the parking lot to me. “Hey- woah you look like shit!”

“Yeah 4:30 starts will do that to a girl,” I shrugged, throwing my bag in the back.

“Sorry that was rude of me,” he said, but I brushed him off with a smile. “What can I do for you Stevie boy?”

“So my friend has gig after the match on Friday, I was wondering if you wanted to come? Obviously I’ve invited the rest of the gang.”

“Did you really just say gang?”

“Yeah, I regret it, shut up. Do you wanna come?”

“I have training the next-“ my brows furrowed, dad’s words echoing in my head, “You know what, yeah it sounds fun.

“Great, I’m gonna text Robin all the details so, I’ll see you around.”

“See you.”

Well that was something to look forward too.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Sat in class the professor droned on and on, Vickie was almost asleep besides me. I felt my phone buzz in pocket, taking it out I saw a message from Robin.

Robs : soooo a little dingus said you’re coming to a certain gig this friday? 👀

E : figured it was time i had some fun

E : lets be honest its a rare occasion

Robs : im actually so excited for this!!!!!

E : yeah me too, and you’re gonna be extra excited when i tell you who else is coming 😚

Putting my phone down on my notebook I nudged Vickie. “Hm,” she said rubbing her eyes, then brushed an auburn curl from her face.

“Sorry did I fall asleep?” I huffed a laugh,

“A little, but that’s not why I’m waking you. Are you free Friday?”

“I think so yeah, what’s up?”

“Wanna come to a gig?”

“Who’s gig?”

“Not sure yet, but me and a few friends are going, Nancy, Steve, oh and you know Robin right?”

“R-robin?” she stuttered.

“Yeah! I could text you the details, it’d be nice to hang out when we’re not studying.”

She nodded, cheeks flushed slightly, “Yeah cool, just text me.” I returned the nod, picking my phone back up.

Robs : who???

Robs : ????

Robs : did you die???

E : lmao no very much alive

Robs : who’s coming???

E : Vickie

Robs : …

E : love youuuuuu 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Robs : EDEN I SWEAR TOENDJSKSJSKSJJDJD

With a laugh I put my phone away and attempted to focus on this mind numbing lecture.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Friday rolled around really quickly, people were so ready for the weekend already. Who knew summer break would be missed already.

“I’m still not over the fact your dad said that to you?” Nancy said, whilst taming her curls.

“It’s fine, it’s not like it’s out of the ordinary.”

“Are you sure I can’t kick him in the throat?”

“I really don’t wanna have to bail you out of jail Robs.”

She hummed, “Yeah that’s true, would not look good for my future.”

“Dads are so shit!” Nancy exclaimed out of nowhere. “Nance-“ I began.

“No! I Robins dad walked out, your dad bullies you and my dad acts like I don’t fucking exist. Why do these men have kids and then treat them like trash?”

The girl was flinging her arms around like crazy, huffing angrily. “Nance, but the hairbrush down you’ll hurt yourself,” Robin said. The girl placed it to the floor, kneeling down behind her, I met her gaze in the mirror.

“What happened?” I asked. She looked at me with glassy eyes. “Mom called, yesterday she was going out to that meal, you know the one for her friends birthday?”

Me and Robin both gave her affirming nods, “Well Mike was working a shift at the record store and dad was picking Holly up from school,” she let out a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” I said, hugging her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder. “He forgot her, was sat at home watching a game. She was there for hours, when Mike came home he found him passed out on the couch.”

“Is Holly okay?” Robin asked, sliding off Nancys bed and down next to us. The brunette nodded, “Yeah, a teacher stayed with her and Mike went to get her. Mom got so mad and then you know what he said?”

I rubbed her shoulder, and Robin squeezed her hand. “He said, ‘Oh Nancy was supposed to get her,’” she choked on a sob, “He didn’t even know I was gone!”

“Oh Nance,” I said, pulling her back to hug me, Robin went to her front, wrapping her arms around us both. “Dads are the worst,” Robs said. “They really are!” I agreed.

“I swear Jonathan, Will and El are the only ones who got a decent one!” Robin laughed. “H-Hoppers a good man,” Nancy sniffled.

“You know what we’re gonna do tonight?” I asked pulling away from the hug, going to face Nancy, I wiped the tears from her face.

“What?” she asked.

“We’re gonna go to that game and cheer on our guy Harrington! And then, we’re gonna go to that gig and drink and dance and celebrate the badass women who raised us!”

“That sounds like the best plan,” Robin smiled, “You up for it Nance?”

“Yeah! Let’s go celebrate our moms.”

“And also get Robin a girlfriend!”

Me and Nancy laughed as Robin fell back, groaning into her hands. “What about you? You got your eye on anyone?” Nancy asked, cleaning up her tear stained face.

“Nah.”

“Oh come on E!”

“Seriously there’s nobody,” I laughed. “Plus I’m happy enough being wingwoman, I mean you and Johnny are getting to 2 years now?”

“Yeah,” the girl couldn’t hide her smile, “Speaking of, he’ll be here soon so, get ready!” She shooed us out of her room with a laugh.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Come on Harrington!” I cheered, jumping up and down. The game was almost over and our guys were down 6 points. Jonathans friend Argyle let out a loud whoop as the puck hit the back of the net.

“Let’s go dingus!” Robin shouted. I looked up from the ice briefly, my eyes meeting my fathers. His face looked like its normal stern self, but he looked sad?

I know I shouldn’t have yelled at him, specially not about mom, but god he shouldn’t have said the things he did either.

Suddenly I felt arms wrapped around me and the siren went, signalling the game was over. “We won!” Robin screamed. I looked at the score board, we were up by 2 points.

With a smile, I put my arms around the girl, giving her a squeeze. Leaning over the side of the seats, Steve walked past, “Go on Harrington!” we all cheered for him, making him smile bashfully.

“I’ll meet you guys after,” he said walking away. “No cheers for me Eden?” a vile voice came. “In your dreams Hargrove.”

“Oh they’re more than cheers in the dreams gorgeous.”

“Gross, “Robin said from behind me.

“You okay Benny?” Jonathan asked. Benny was a nickname he’d decided on when we were in kindergarten, apparently Eden was a weird name, but I thought Johnathan was too old so,” All good Johnny.”

The rink soon cleared out and we decided to wait by our cars for Steve. “Eden,” a deep voice called from behind. Dad was stood at the end of the hallway, Robin held my hand, Nancy appearing on the other side.

“It’s okay, I’ll catch up,” I said, walking towards the man. “What’s up?” I asked.

“I … I just wanted to apolo-“ he was cut off when the team of hollering boys ran by, Steve being one of them.

“Coach Bennett,” the boy smiled, swinging his arm over my shoulder. “Steve, good match,” the man offered him a smile, I hadn’t had one of those in a long time.

“Sorry I interrupted,” Steve spoke.

“It’s okay, what did you want to say dad?”

“Take a break this weekend, no training, but I expect you to do a morning and evening practice on Monday. Yrene is back from maternity leave so she’ll be training you.”

I sighed, but spoke through gritted teeth, “Great, thanks dad.” I turned to Steve, “Let’s go,” almost dragging the boy down the hall.

“We could get lunch on Sunday?” My dad called after me.

“What?”

“Lunch. I know dinner isn’t an option tonight, go have fun. Let me know if you’re free Sunday.” I gave him a nod, before I did drag Steve down the hall.

“That was weird,” he said when we got out into the fresh hair, you could feel that autumn was rolling around fast. “I know, who knew that Ethan Bennett wasn’t always an ass,” I said.

“Everything okay?” Nancy asked as we headed to the car. “Yeah all good, now let’s go!”

“What’s the name of the band your friends in again?” Jonathan asked.

“Corroded Coffin, and I gave you the address right?” Jonathan nodded, consuming, “The hideout right?”

“Yeah that’s the one, E does that friend of yours need a ride?”

I felt Robin go stiff beside me, “Vickie? Nah she’s being dropped off by her brother.”

“Cool, let’s go then!”

“I swear I’m gonna kill you,” Robin muttered. “What was that?” She gave me a sickly sweet smile, linking our arms, “Nothing!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The bar known as The Hideout was packed, I recognised some faces from college, everyone was here to have a good time. Onto your second drink, I smiled as I saw a familiar redhead.

“Vickie!” I called out.

“Hey,” she smiled, making her way through a crowd of people. “Come and meet the guys.” Taking her hand I led her over to my friends.

“Everyone!” I shouted to get their attention, “This is Vickie, we’re in history together.”

She raised a hand, offering a smile to them. “Vickie this is Steve, Nancy, Jonathan,” he cringed when I said his name,” Argyle and you know Robin.”

“Yeah, hi,” she smiled.

“Hey um … can I get you a drink?”

“Uh yeah sure, cool.” Oh my god they were so cute. When the pair walked away me and Nancy squealed.

“Alright folks we have our next act of the evening for you, give it up for Indianas own, Corroded Coffin!” A man shouted into the mic.

The five of us walked into the crowd getting to the front, standing by the stage, I was excited to see Steve’s buddy.

Out walked 3 boys, one sitting behind the drum set and the others picking up guitars. Taking a sip of my drink, I regretted it right away, almost choking when I saw the final member walk out on stage.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed.

“Good evening Indiana!” he shouted. He looked so different, so alive, his curls falling down his back, freely allowed to do so. His dark eyes shining with mischief and joy.

“We’re Corroded Coffin and we’re here to rock your world for the next hour or so! Are! You! Ready!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

They meet again 👀

This part was mainly me healing the parental issues in stranger things with friendship lmao.

taglist : @gnrquinn @flawiette @taylorswiftsloverfr @mygirlchaos @marvelcasey05 @ali-r3n @browneyes8288

let me know if you want to be added 🫶🏻

[randomfoggytiger]

Scully and Matters of the Heart: S1-4

Scully's thoughts on love and relationships.

Fire

So, she shows up knowing the power she has over you and then she makes you walk through fire, is that it? ...Mulder, are you sure you don't need me to help you out on this one?

Gender Bender

Hard to imagine in this day and age someone having sex with a perfect stranger.

Lazarus

We dated for almost a year.... But it was always hard for Jack to relax, it was impossible for him, really. He was always so intense, so relentlessly determined.

Tooms

Mulder, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you.

One Breath

Mulder? I had the strength of your beliefs.

Firewalker

["He stopped taking his pills. Yeah, he said that they were polluting his brain. And, he said I was polluting his body.... I just want to go home, now."]

Where's home?

["Anywhere but here."]

Aubrey

Things must be difficult for you now. I've had... feelings for people I've worked with. Inner-office relationships can be complicated-- especially when he's married.

Fearful Symmetry

["Whatever... connection he and I had was over long ago."]

But you asked him, anyway. To help you.

D.P.O.

Well, you don't have to be afraid anymore. You and your husband are safe as long as we can count on your testimony.

The List

Woman gets lonely. Sometimes she can't wait around for a man to get reincarnated.

2Shy

You're more than a monster: you didn't just feed on their bodies, you fed on their minds.

War of the Coprophages

Her name is Bambi? ...Her name is Bambi?

Syzygy

["Must be Detective White."]

If that's the reason we're sticking around, that's your business.

Jose Chung's From Outer Space

["...For, although Diana Leski is noble of spirit and pure at heart, she remains, nevertheless, a federal employee."]

Avatar

["He lives under this misguided notion that silence is strength. He's built a wall to keep everyone out."]

Including you?

["Especially me."]

Is that why you were separated?

Home

["I can tell you don't have no children. Maybe one day you'll learn the pride... the love."]

Unruhe

Why did your sister kill herself, Gerry? What did your father do to her?

The Field Where I Died

["Dana, if um... early in the four years we've been working together, an event occurred that suggested or if somebody told you that we'd been friends together... in other lifetimes, always... would it have changed the ways we looked at one another?"]

Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn't change a day.

Paper Hearts

["You do this full-time-- telling people this kind of news?"]

No, sir, not full-time.

El Mundo Gira

He didn't kill her, Mulder.... Mulder, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think the aliens in this story are not the villains but the victims.

Never Again

This circle: it usually starts when an authoritative or controlling figure comes into my life; and part of me likes it-- needs it, wants the approval-- but then at a certain point along the way I just... y'know.

Memento Mori

For the first time, I feel time like a heartbeat: the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth but only in its passage. I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart-- look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you-- is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose....

Kaddish

And through all this he hid the ring?

["Even after the war, he hid it. Even from my mother."]

Why?

["Because to him it was a dead relic from a forgotten place. Until the day I told him I was getting married; and for the first time in fifty years, he took out this ring. He said he felt his village was being born again. He knew how much I loved Isaac."]

Unrequited

Mulder, what she has is a simple... hemorrhage brought on by her emotional state.

Max

["Can I buy you a drink?"]

No, it's okay-- I'm with somebody.

Synchrony

Lisa, if you're leaving anything out-- if you're hedging the truth, you could be held accountable if Jason committed a crime.

Small Potatoes

No, I'm seeing a whole new side of you, Mulder.

["Is that a good thing?"]

I like it.

Elegy

I mean, maybe in some drug-addled way she was trying to kill happiness-- Harold's happiness. His love for those women. Trying to destroy something she never thought she'd have again.

Demons

["Why shoot herself and her husband?"]

I can't say definitively; but judging from an almost identical suicide... I believe that the victims were suffering....

Gethsemane

Hey, look, just because I haven't bared my soul to you or to Father McCue or to God doesn't mean I'm not responsible to what's important to me.

["To what? To who? This guy Mulder?"]

Thank you for reading~ Enjoy!

[alexglitches]

EAH x LMK

soooo..........@sayuricorner....... remember how i said i would make a oneshot about Raven getting possessed by the Lady Bone Demon??

yeah, this is that :/

i totally forgot about it but then i spontaneously remembered it existed, so have this thing made almost a year ago 😭😭😭

Raven’s been acting strange lately…

It all started when Raven became tired with Headmaster Grimm preaching about her destiny, and she decided to concede and follow through with her own. 

The rebels all felt some sort of betrayed when Raven accepted taking up her destiny. Cerise and Maddie both understood her situation, considering that she confided in them the most about it, others like Hunter and Cedar were confused and upset. 

Ashlynn and Briar would’ve been happy just like Apple, but considering their current standing as Rebels, they were probably the most hurt. 

At the announcement of Raven finally following in the footsteps of her mother, the Evil Queen, Headmaster Grimm set up for the Legacy Day retry to take place in three weeks time. 

Over the course of the next five days after Raven’s announcement, the Rebels begin noticing shifts in Raven's behaviour. She’s a lot calmer now, seemingly content with the choice she made. 

Her movements are much more fleeting, it’s almost as if she never exists in certain spots. 

Her voice is lighter, but carries a strange weight with it, almost as if she wants to suffocate someone with her words. 

Purple gradually became blue. 

Black gradually became white. 

Raven seemed to back into herself, not interacting with anyone outside of a select few, mainly Apple, Maddie and Headmaster Grimm. 

People say they see a strange aura around Raven, following her around and covering her head to toe in a mist, as if shrouding something…

…or someone. 

When interacting with Apple, she whispered promises into the young princesses' impressionable ears, promising her that her ‘happily ever after’ will finally come true. 

She consistently promises Headmaster Grimm that she will follow through with her ‘true destiny’, making the man puff his chest out in triumph. 

Only a select few could see the face she makes when she turns her back on him, a look of pure disdain makes way for a sinister grin that could make Kitty Cheshire jealous. 

Cupid recalls seeing Raven disappear into the basement of the school, and she tailed after her, only to realise that something was definitely amiss when she approached the door at the very bottom of the steps, only to see a glowing, icy blue seal keeping the door locked shut. It was circular, and had a smaller circle in the middle, between the two circles were strange signs, mostly including skulls or other symbols of death. 

Concerning.

But one thing they definitely weren’t expecting to come out of this investigation, was the legitimacy of the Storybook of Legends. 

Which was fake, mind you. 

The Rebels were all shocked at the fake, and as they look back on it now, they wondered how no one caught on to being tricked by Headmaster Grimm. 

Distraught at the idea of losing 100 years of life to a fake book, Briar dropped it down a mysterious well, never to be seen again. 

The next day, Apple had flown into a tizzy at the declaration that the Storybook of Legends has gone missing, worrying over her destiny as story. 

Raven comforted her in her room. “Just because the book is gone, doesn’t mean you still can’t achieve destiny. And I’ll be here to help, so don't worry.” 

Apple was oblivious to the sinister look in Raven’s eyes. 

As the new date for Legacy Day approaches, Headmaster Grimm is at his wits end trying to find the Storybook of Legends, but Raven reassures him, saying, “I can help find the book. I have a knack for this sort of magic.” 

Using her powers, she creates a compass, which points anywhere but North. “This compass can lead you directly to the Storybook of Legends.” Raven explained. She didn’t hand over the compass, instead handing it to Apple. 

Seeing as how Headmaster Grimm couldn’t go out on his own to get it, and he didn’t necessarily trust Raven with the book just yet, Apple was the best person to send on the hunt for the book. 

The strangest thing was that Apple didn’t even need to leave the school premises. 

The book was hidden in Cerise’s room, Cerise’s room. Headmaster Grimm exclaimed that it couldn’t have been the red-hooded girl, but instead could have been the Evil Queen.

Not only was the book hidden under tile and magic seal, but Cerise and Cedar’s room also used to be the room of the Evil Queen. 

With that mystery solved, the Storybook of Legends was returned to its case, and things became even weirder since then. 

Apple’s eyes were significantly more light blue, almost white. Her actions became seemingly irrational, and she stuck to Raven like superglue. 

The new Legacy Day was only in just a few more days when everything went downhill. 

Cerise and Cedar, joined by all the other Rebels and some Royals, finally confronted Raven about her odd behaviour. 

That was when they realised the truth too late. 

Raven— no… the Lady Bone Demon smiled, with a glint of evil in her eye. The room dropped in temperature, and Ramona and Cerise’s instincts were screaming at them to get out. 

Too bad it was too late. 

The Lady Bone Demon infiltrated their minds, the school around them lost colour, becoming a deep blue, almost black colour, with everything outlined in icy blue. It all looked like it was sketched on paper. 

It all glitched between the truth, and the lie. 

“Your true destinies are set in stone. Nothing you do can make you avoid it.” The Lady Bone Demon spoke, her voice was kind but her words were not. 

It all flew by so fast. 

They all managed to escape the school, but when they turned back to see if the Lady Bone Demon had followed them, they saw screaming students running out of the school as well. 

It was only a minute before Ever After High was covered, bottom to top, in ice. Some students were unfortunate to not make it out in time. 

“See? There is no escape. This world's destiny cannot be undone!” The Lady Bone Demon declared, showing her true form as a Skeleton Demon. “Soon, this world and my previous world will be perfected! A clean slate!” 

The only ones to properly escape the hostile takeover on the entire town were Cerise, Maddie, Cedar, Apple, Briar, Ashlynn and Dexter. 

They were all taken in by Raven’s Father, the Good King, after the entire situation was explained. To say he was mad was an understatement. 

And if he was mad, the Evil Queen was irate. 

For as much as she wanted Raven to follow in her footsteps and become the next Evil Queen, she still cared for her daughter, and knowing that there’s a demon out in the real world, possessing her daughter to rewrite the destinies of two worlds, made the Queen rightfully upset. 

They all did copious amounts of research at the suggestion of Dexter to see if there was any way to defeat the Lady Bone Demon. 

And there was only one. 

In the very back corner of the library, gathering dust and cobwebs, as none other but a story called ‘Journey to the West’, the Lady Bone Demon in the story was easily defeated by a celestial primate known as Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. 

That was one question answered, but another remained…

How would they get to Sun Wukong’s world?