#like yeah of course you want the memories of your loved ones and all the good times back

[chiumii]

pretty best friend ~ park sunghoon x reader

inspired by this request ! ౨ৎ ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ in which sunghoon helps his cute, innocent little best friend out after she asks for some.... advice. and despite knowing that he's a player - you had feelings for him anyways.. but little did you know he feels the same way.

word count ; 4.7k

best friend! player! sunghoon x nerd! reader , friends to lovers , blowjob , oral , fingering , hand job , very slight hints at ; corruption ; manipulation . curious reader , size kink , mutual feelings , HEAD PUSHER HOON YES YES YES , cum eating , not proof read

"sungie" you squeal , the feeling of sunghoons fingers squeezing your waist results in a loud laugh to sound from the back of your throat. sunghoons deep, raspy chuckles make a deep heat pool in the pit of your stomach , a guilty feeling lingering on your conscience for thinking of him in the ways you do. the way his hands feel on your skin makes you feel light headed - whether it be from the tickling, or the fact that he was touching you at all - the answer was unknown , and quite frankly; you didn't care enough to know.

as you lay beneath him, your legs attempt to kick his body away from yours - your hands find their way to his broad shoulders in order to push him back. but as you lay under him squealing his name - everything around you begins to feel rapidly hot , and sunghoon feels the exact same way.

the way his big hands swallow the entirety of your waist , your little legs desperately fighting against him, and the way his name spills past your lips.

all he wants to do is kiss them to shut you up, fuck you raw right there, make you scream his name, begging for him to grant you release.

suddenly, the memory of different girls begins to flash through his mind ; all the different times he's had multiple women screeching his name , begging him to fuck them faster - harder . but as of right now, the only woman he can truly adore to the fullest extent was already writhing underneath him.... but not in the ways he wants.

sunghoon comes back to his senses once he hears you whisperly call his name, a perfect little string of music that flows right into his ears that snaps him out of his lustful daze.

"s-sungie...?" you question, your round, doe eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes. sunghoon can feel himself tighten in his jeans, making him uncomfortable.

"how many girls have you had under you like this..." the question slips from your lips without consciousness , making you instantly shut your mouth , regret beginning to pool in your mind.

sunghoons face instantly changes , his eyes holding the utmost sincerity... sadness at the mention of the other women.

"... 'm sorry.." you whisper, your eyes darting away from him in order to look at something - anything else but him. sunghoon sighs and sits up, you following in pursuit. the two of you awkwardly sit next to eachother, the silence lingering in the air above you.

sunghoon chuckles before speaking, making you look at him in confusion.

"well, if im honest... too many to count really. i don't remember a good handful of them.." he smirks slightly at you, making a deep blush rise to your cheeks.

"so... you're experienced??" you question, making sunghoon tongue the inside of his cheek. he stretches one arm around you in order to rest on the couch, his legs spreading apart... inviting.

"yeah, i guess you can say i am... now; how about we get back to studying... you have a test coming up, dont you?" you respond with a head nod, making the man next to you grab a textbook from off the coffee table and handing it to you.

your glasses are perched on the tip of your nose , so you push them up.

you were a freshman in college, and the transition from highschool to university life was definitely kicking your ass. of course, you had always been keen to school life; you enjoyed it really. you loved learning new things and carrying around cute school supplies, it made you feel good about yourself whenever you learned something new... made you feel smart... so you kept going on with your love for learning into your early college years.

sunghoon, on the otherhand, was a couple years older than you; a senior in college. although he a couple years older, that didn't stop the two of you from being inseparable from an early age.

around an hour later, you hear sunghoon groan from the other side of the couch, pushing his glasses up and over his head.

"i'm not understanding, y/n... why on earth would you major in something so difficult... i don't even understand this and i've been in college longer than you have.” his messy hair being pushed back makes him look ten times more attractive.

"i dunno... i guess i just wanted a challenge." you shrug your shoulders, making the man across from you deadpan.

"whatever, lets just take a break and come back to it in a bit" he says, grabbing the book and pen from out of your hands and setting them back down on the coffee table. as sunghoon reaches over, you take note of his appearance; rolled up sleeves that stop right above his elbow, disheveled hair, tired eyes, and full lips.

as sunghoon turns to you, a deep shade of pink arises on your cheeks. you look away from him, trying not to seem awkward.

"so, y/n.. tell me; have you had sex yet?" you nearly scream at his words, choking on your own spit as soon as they leave his mouth. you turn and face him ominously, your face completely red and your eyes as wide as the moon.

"what on earth... why are you asking me this?" you squeal, hitting his bicep. sunghoon chuckles at your flustered state, his heart swelling in his chest at your actions.

"i'm just asking, come on you're in college... you had to have lost your v-card by now" he taunts, but quickly loses all sort of amusement laced in his expression once you turn to face your lap, playing with your fingers.

"well... there is this guy i like... but we havent done anything yet. im too scared. i dont know what im doing..." you look up into his eyes through your eyelashes, not turning your head to face him. sunghoon leans back into the cushions of the couch, spreading his arms to dangle on both sides of the back of the piece of furniture. sunghoon raises his eyebrows, urging you to continue.

"i- i was.. uhm... wondering if-- i don't know... you could possibly teach me..?" your voice was small... but sunghoon heard it as clear as day. now it was his turn to choke on his spit, completely flustered by your question.

he quickly gets his act together, smirking at your shy demeanor. you feel helpless under his gaze, quickly regretting your question.

"you don't have to, it was a dumb question im sor-"

"what would you like me to teach you, love?" he asks, his eyes never leaving your smaller figure. you raise your head completely, your hands still fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. you ponder for a moment, debating on how to answer his question before speaking once more.

"i want... i want to know how to suck.. uhm,, god this is so dumb.." you sadly chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head, breaking eye contact. sunghoon eyes you for a moment, instantly knowing what you wish to know.

"you wanna know how to suck cock?" you nod your head slowly, stunned at his straightforwardness. sunghoon eyes you for a moment more before lifting one of his hands up, motioning with his index finger for you to come to him; so you do.

"come here" your feet patter on the cool hardwood floor, stopping to stand in front of sunghoons spread legs. the man chuckles from below you, his hands coming in contact with the back of your thighs right below your ass.

"are you sure you wanna do this" you instantly nod your head without a second thought, wanting nothing more than for sunghoon to teach you how to pleasure a man,,,

the very one who sits before you , actually

at your words, he instantly brings you to sit on his lap, your knees meeting with the plush cushioning of the couch on either side of his hips. your face is mere centimeters away from his, your breaths fanning one another’s face.

"first... you don't want to just jump straight into it. both men and women need some sort of foreplay.. and the easiest version of that is kissing; a makeout session really." the two of you stare at eachother for a moment, one of sunghoons hands comes up to push a stray hair away from your face and behind your ear. your heart is beating out of your chest, your head feeling light and he hasnt even touched you yet.

"can i kiss you?" sunghoon asks, which makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. you shakingly exhale before nodding your head without saying anything. the man above you looks down at your lips before trailing them back up towards your wide eyes - eyeballing you shamelessly.

sunghoon slowly brings your lips to his own, the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen deepening significantly the moment his mouth collides with yours softly. your lips are full and glossy, but is quickly smeared thanks to sunghoon.

after a long second, the two of you pull away to breathe... looking at eachother fully, longingly. the tension in the room as thick as ice is quickly cut, sunghoons hand cupping your cheek brings your face down frantically - your guys' lips meeting eachother once more... but this time its much different.

you feel both of his hands move to the slope of your waist, pulling you into him further - your back arching and your body curling into his front.

your hands slide up from his shoulders in order to wrap around his neck, your fingers lacing in with his dark hair. your breasts press up against his chest, and your lips move perfectly in sync with his.

the sounds of your heavy breathing fill the room along with sloppy lip smacking, but neither of you complain. sunghoons hands move your hips down onto his lap, the bulge quickly tightening in his jeans. you gasp when you feel his hardening length press right up against your clothed pussy, your fingers tightening in his hair cause him to groan into the cavern of your wet mouth.

you shiver under his touch, his fingers feather light as you curl into him deeper. every inch of your body yerns for the man above you, making a whimper escape your lips.

the kiss quickly deescalates as you pull away from sunghoons lips in order for air - but not before he pecks your lips a couple times. he leans back into the couch, the two of you exchanging aching, yearnful glances. your heavy breathing matches his - your chests' rising and falling in unison.

"sunghoon..." your eyes are half lidded as you speak, and it begins to drive sunghoon up the wall. he admires the adorable look on your face , everything about you is perfect and it frustrates him beyond belief. although he is experienced, he feels like a teenage boy having his first makeout session.

"yeah baby?" he calls out to you breathlessly, making your pussy clench. you dont break eye contact as you speak, making a shiver run up sunghoons spine.

"can i suck your cock... please..?" you ask nicely, in an almost pleading tone. it takes every ounce of restraint in order to stop himself from bending you over the couch and stuffing you full of his cum, fucking it deeper and deeper inside you - permanently marking you as his.

his woman.

"of course you can doll, go right ahead" he leans further back into the couch, getting a full view of you perched cutely in his lap - your skirt riding up your thighs and your zip-up hoodie falling off one of your shoulders.

you slowly get off the mans lap, a prominent bulge showing in his jeans. your mouth waters at the sight, excitement flowing through your veins. as you sink to your knees, you maintain eyecontact with the man above you, your pussy clenching around nothing at his lustful gaze.

your hands work at his zipper, pulling his pants down past his ankles. the tent in his boxers grows exponentially bigger, and you can tell that he's fucking huge. you stop to stare at him, eyeballing the outline of his dick through his underwear.

on instinct, you reach a hand out in order to palm him through the flimsy fabric of his boxers - making sunghoon hiss from above you. your eyes don't look away from his length, not for a second as you jerk him off slightly. a prominent wet patch begins to form on the light color of his underwear, making a gasp leave your lips.

"did i... did i make you.. already..?" you gawk up at him, making a laugh bubble up from his chest. you tilt your head to the side in question, and sunghoon finds it so fucking adorable at the realization of how innocent you actually are.

"no baby... thats just precum, you really don't know anything huh? how can you be so smart yet naive at the same time?" he taunts jokingly, mimicking your actions and tilting his head to the side.

you deadpan at the man, an unentertained look spreading across your face. without looking away, you bring your fingers to the tip of his dick, wrapping your hands around his head and squeezing slightly, making more precum stain his boxers.

sunghoon hisses, letting out a string of loud curses at your actions. you smile to yourself slightly, finding it funny just how fast you can make him fall apart in your hands.

you gasp at the feeling of one of his hands in your hair, yanking your head back slightly in order to make your eyes meet with his. every ounce of playfulness leaves your body as the older man stares into your eyes , a threatening look lingering written on his face

"don't be a brat. understand?" you pout your lips, but nod your head anyways. sunghoon leans down in order to kiss the tip of your nose before letting you go gently.

"good girl" he compliments, making your cheeks flush for the nth time that evening. your hands reach up to the waistline of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs and past his ankles. sunghoons pretty cock springs free, shooting up to slap his abdomen, his bulbous tip hitting right at his belly button.

fat, pearly drops of precum leak from his tip and down his shaft, making your eyes widen. you were right; he is huge. you gawk at the length, making his ego swell.

"never seen a dick before, huh?" you shake your head no, at least not in person.. one of your hands reaching up in order to softly grab the base of his cock in your hands. sunghoon observes your actions intently, his eyes burning holes into your skull. your hand lightly wraps around his cock, squeezing his length slightly. it takes you a moment; but you begin to pump him. you watch as more pearly beads of precum leak out of his tip, finding the sight mesmerizing.

after pumping his dick for a little bit, you bring your lips closer to the tip of his shaft, sticking your tongue out slightly in order to kitten lick the slit of his head.

sunghoon has had his dick sucked many times before... but with the way you keep looking up at him through his eyelashes - searching for any sort of validation that you're doing a good job is making him feel like a virgin again.

only you could have this sort of effect on him. he could just about reach down his throat and rip his heart out and give it to you on a silver platter.

you kitten lick his tip over and over - getting used to the salty taste of his warm seed before you take the head of his dick into your mouth completely. the warmth that your velvety, wet mouth provides makes him shudder under your gaze, his eyes rolling back into his skull ever so slightly. you attempt to take his cock deeper into your mouth, but the odd taste of his salty precum makes you gag around his length - you quickly pull off of him and cough , not used to the feeling of him being in your throat in the slightest.

sunghoon finds your actions cute - his ego expanding ever so slightly.

"god... its so- its so much.." you say in heavy breaths, trying to compose yourself. sunghoon looks down at you, his eyes holding admiration.

"its okay baby, take your time okay? this is normal. you've never sucked anybody off before. its alright, go nice and slow.." his voice trails off as you take his head back into your mouth, attempting to get used to his taste even more. you hollow your cheeks, your tongue swirling around his tip as you begin to bob your head up and down slightly - almost as if you were sucking on the tip of a lolipop.

every time you pull yourself off of his dick, your tongue runs over the slit of his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue. you look up at sunghoon - your doe eyes making direct eye contact with his as you lick down his entire length, running your tongue down the underside of his cock.

"fuck just like that.." he moans at the feeling of your tongue and the sinful sight of your eyes and actions - he feels like he could bust right then and there all over your face and he would enjoy it to the fullest.

"s-so fucking good... good girl" you're making it hard to believe you've never done this, but it's the truth. you take his tip into your mouth once more, your head moving up and down as you begin to suck him off again. one of your hands moves towards the base of his dick, gripping it in your hand as you begin to jerk off the remaining length you haven't fit into your mouth yet.

you hear another moan sound from just above you, making your confidence sky rocket. your hand and mouth move around him, the combined slick of your saliva and his precum making the perfect lubricant in order to have him shaking in your hold.

"god fucking... fuck. just like that... doin' such a good job.." at the sound of his praise, you start to take his length deeper down your throat, your eyes watering at the weird feeling. you breathe in deeply through your nose, adjusting to the newfound feeling. you swallow around him, making sunghoon buck his hips into your face on accident. you gag around him, but decide to continue on. your head bobs faster up and down sunghoons cock, your hand that was previously jerking him off coming down to grip his balls in your hands - fondling and playing with them.

"oh my fucking god, takin' my cock so well.." he praises. the dampness in your eyes falls freely down your warm, flushed cheeks but you could care less. as you breathe in through your nose, you swallow around him again, making sure to keep your cheeks hollowed while your tongue runs along the vein that trails down on the underside of his cock.

one of sunghoons hands comes down to wrap itself in your hair, his fingers tugging on your colored locks. at first, he just keeps his hand in your hair - but as you keep using your pretty little mouth in all the ways that you do ; he begins to push your head up and down .

a hum leaves your throat, which in turn sends vibrations throughout sunghoons entire body.

"s-shit-" he curses, the grip in your hair tightening significantly before he forces you to take his dick deeper, his bulbous tip hitting the back of your throat. you attempt to cough around his length, your nose coming down to press snugly against his pelvis.

you swallow around him again, more tears escaping your eyes as you try your best not to disappoint him. sunghoon just about falls apart from under you; his hips sputtering against your face in a sloppy grinding rhythm that has you gripping his thighs to ground yourself.

after a moment, sunghoon loosens his hold on you, letting you come up for air.

but the way you keep bobbing your head up and down on his cock takes him by surprise.

"s-so warm.. god you're perfect" your mouth comes up to suck on his tip once more, and before you can even look up to see his reaction - you feel his cock twitch in your mouth

"im- im gonna cum fuck... where do you want me baby?" you've heard of girls swallowing their boyfriends cum before, so it cant be so bad right? you keep your glossy lips wrapped around his tip as you suck down a little rougher, your hand coming down to play with his balls once more. you hear a raspy 'fuck' before you feel his salty, warm cum shoot into your mouth.

you instantly regret your decision, the taste being unfamiliar and weird has you gagging and shaking your head - but your ego tells you to continue, so you do.

you take his load into your mouth before detaching from his head, his dick beginning to soften ever so slightly. sunghoon looks down at you before he raises his hand to grab your face lightly inbetween his fingers. your lips part slightly, making a couple drops of his cum drip down your chin.

"god you're perfect... you wanna spit it out love?" you ponder for a second, but ultimately decide on swallowing his load. your face contorts into a sour expression, showing your distaste. sunghoon coos at you, a soft laugh sounding from his mouth.

"you're so fucking adorable, you didn't have to swallow sweetheart..." he pouts, making you smile slightly.

"i wanted to, i thought that was normal..... it tasted- weird." you giggle, and sunghoon leans down to kiss your forehead as he cups your cheek.

"now... how about i show you something else too, huh?" you shoot him a questioning look before he lifts you up onto the cough, laying you down so your back is flush against the cushions of the couch. you look up at sunghoon and wrap your arms around his shoulders before he leans down to kiss you, taking your lips in his.

you feel his hands sneak down to your waist, pinning your body down against the couch. his lips move in a steady, perfect rhythm with his that has you quietly whimpering into his mouth. the man detaches from your lips only to start trailing wet kisses down the skin of your neck.

your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of him sucking deep purple hickeys into your skin, desperate moans filling the air around you.

"s-sung..." he hums at the sound of his name leaving your lips, acknowledging you quietly. the man then trails his kisses down your body tauntingly slow before he reaches the waistband of your little skirt.

sunghoon looks up at you through his eyebrows before kissing your pelvis bone through the fabric of your skirt. your chest heaves up and down in short, frantic breaths once you feel his cold hands slide up the sides of your thighs , trailing them upwards and under your skirt.

"can i take this off?" you rapidly blink, questioning his motives.

"hoon... w-wait i thought... you were- i thought..." he cocks his eyebrows up, making your wetness pool in your panties.

"will you let me show you what it feels like to have your pussy ate, my love? want hoonie to make you feel good?" you ponder for a second, hesitating on the thought.

"what if.. what if i taste bad or i can't finish,,, or-"

"baby, i don't care. let me taste this pretty pussy, yeah? wanna let sungie fuck you with his tongue? split you apart?" you whimper at his vulgar words, your eyes fluttering closed while you shake your head yes.

at the confirmation, he slides the fabric of your skirt down and passed your ankles, throwing it down on the ground to be forgotten. sunghoon refocuses his attention to the prominent wet patch littering the pink lacy underwear.

"god, you're so wet already and i haven't even touched you" he teases you through half lidded eyes, the cold pad of his finger coming in contact with your clothed clit. you whine at his actions, the butterflies in your stomach making your head cloud over with nothing but the dirty, vile thoughts of everything you want sunghoon to do to you.

the way he gently starts to massage shapes into your bundle of nerves has you quietly speaking his name, your hands coming down to bunch his hair inbetween your fingers.

sunghoon pushes your panties to the side, his fingers slipping through your wet folds. a hiss sounds from just below your hips, the feeling of your slick dripping through his fingers is indescribable.

"such a pretty pussy" he eyeballs you, making you feel shy underneath his lingering gaze.

your clit twitches repeatedly thanks to the gentle friction he creates, your back arching off the couch in order to help your hips grind into his hand.

after a moment, you feel sunghoon plunge a long finger into your pussy, your mouth slacking open in a perfect O shape as moans and whimpers dance off your tongue in a beautiful chant, all for sunghoon and sunghoon alone.

"how does it feel, angel face?" his breath fans your pussy as he speaks, and all coherent thoughts fall out of your brain as quickly as they come.

"s-s' good,,- feels s' good please" you squeak, your thighs spreading apart even further to grant him more access.

"so tight, perfect little virgin pussy all spread out just for me" his free hand comes down to peel your panties further to the side, his tongue darting out in order to lick a stripe up your wet slit, gathering your juices on his tongue.

"tastes so sweet, my sweetest girl" your face flushes at his words, but your hips grind up into his face once he wraps his lips around your clit in order to suck down on the bundle of nerves.

"oh my god" you squeal at the newfound feeling, your heart beating out of your chest so rapidly, you're convinced it could burst at any given moment.

"sucking in my finger so perfectly, i don't think you can take any more baby" you shake your head no, but the prominent pout on his lips taunts you into thinking you can take just a little more.

sunghoon adds another finger swiftly into your hole, stretching you even more with his his slender fingers. you hiss at the stretch, trying your hardest to adjust to the newfound sensation that radiates throughout your body in ripples. the way sunghoons tongue laps at your heat as if he were desperately searching for the last sip of water drives you insane - he cant help himself , you're just too fucking sweet.

"i feel weird, hoonie i- i cant , feels s' weird" your eyes squeeze shut as white-hot pleasure shoots through your veins . your fingers tug on his hair harsly and your hips buck up into his mouth, everything begins to feel hot and overstimulating, a thin layer of sweat forming on the skin of your forehead.

"let it happen sweet, you gonna cum for me?" he asks, even though he already has his answer the moment his fingers find the sweetspot that adorns your velvety, tight walls.

"please, please please please a-ah" his teeth biting down on your clit send you into overdrive - your abdomen tightens as the string in your tummy snaps - juices squirting all over the lower half of sunghoons face as your pussy squeezes his digits tightly.

"there you go, look so so pretty when you're makin' a mess all over me... my pretty little cum slut, hmm" his eyes widen as you cream around his fingers, white gooey slick oozing from your hole where his fingers fuck you apart sloppily.

"sun-sungie fuck" your hips and thighs jolt in his hold, and you can feel yourself come crashing down from your high at lightening speed. as your body relaxes into sunghoon, he pulls his fingers out of your fluttering hole.

"god you're absolutely perfect"

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Christmas Special

Christmas festivities featuring your local kidnappers Yandere! Soldier and Yandere! Sugar Daddy.

Yandere! Soldier who spends all Christmas morning at mass. And when he comes home, snow thick on his uniform, he smells like incense.

"Come see. I've brought you something."

There's a bottle of strong vodka and a frosted fruitcake waiting for you on the counter. You watch him unwrap the cake, your mind wandering to your family, to Christmas mornings when you were still an angsty teen. Did they think you were dead by now? Were they still looking for you?

He cuts a thick slice and holds it to your lips. It's sweet and dense and leaves your mouth sticky.

Yandere! Soldier who tilts your chin towards him and casually runs his thumb across your bottom lip to catch any stray crumbs.

"Let's drink, yeah?"

The vodka is icy cold and bitter. But the taste makes you think of friends and university and late nights when you were too tipsy to stand but oh so warm inside. You throw back more shots than normal, trying to chase the memories.

It's only when he gently pulls the bottle away that you realise you're far past tipsy. You're straight hammered.

You stumble when you stand and he's quick to catch you, one strong arm around your waist.

"You've got no head for drink, моя любовь."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's time for bed."

You swat at him, irritated. "No. The Russian you used. What does it mean?"

He gently steers you toward the bedroom. "It means my love."

You twist around to face him. "Do you really love me?"

He raises a brow. "Alcohol loosens your tongue, doesn't it?"

He's quiet for a moment, studying you. The flush of your cheeks, the curve of your neck... You're everything he's ever wanted.

"Yes. I really love you. Я клянусь, что да."

I swear I do.

You stand on your toes and kiss him. Cradle his face in your palms and feel the heat of him bleed into you. You're so awfully cold, so awfully lonely. You'll regret it in the morning, but for now you press into him and chase the taste of vodka on his lips.

He pulls away and presses sweet, ticklish kisses against your inner wrist. He can feel your pulse racing.

"я полагаю, это мой рождественский подарок."

I suppose this is my Christmas present.

He grabs your thighs and picks you up. You wrap your arms around his neck, terrified of falling. Your breath ghosts across his neck and your nails dig stinging crescents into his muscles.

He doesn't say it out loud, but it's the best gift he's ever gotten.

Yandere! Sugar Daddy has a tree stacked high with gifts. On Christmas morning, he wakes you up with a kiss and a mug of your favourite hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and cinnamon sticks.

At first, you assume most of the boxes are just for decoration. There's over a dozen boxes waiting for you - they can't all be gifts, right?

But you should know him better by now. You unwrap present after present, gasping at each one.

A set of custom perfumes from a high fashion brand. Ten different pieces of Tiffany jewellery. A genuine fur coat. Your first pair of Louboutin heels.

Keys to a new car.

You sit in the middle of a treasure trove, struggling to wrap your head around it. He rests his chin on your shoulder and pushes his glasses up his nose.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes! Yes, it's incredible." You turn to face him. "But babe, this must have cost a fortune. I can't accept all of this."

He tilts his head. "Of course you can. I got it all for you."

You're about to argue when he cuts you off. "You said you got me something too?"

You nod and hand him two packages. Your dollar store wrapping paper is glaring cheap next to his.

He unwraps his gifts slowly. The first one is a journal you picked up in a thrift store, weeks before your argument left you trapped with him. Back when you still had your freedom.

You got your artist friend to emboss his name in gold leaf on the front cover. He flips it open to the first page.

To my tech genius boyfriend. This is what we normies call paper. You use it to record all the times your girlfriend is just absolutely incredible, got it? -y/n

He smirks and rubs the page between his fingers.

"I've only heard distant legends of this 'paper'... How fascinating."

You groan. "It seemed funny at the time okay?"

His next gift is a pottery vase, with elegant fluted handles. It's a deep cream with flecks of reddish iron bleeding through. He stares at it, his expression blank.

Your heart drops.

The truth is, you spent months looking for that specific vase. And when you finally found someone willing to sell, the price they named made your jaw drop. You haggled like hell for it. Practically begged the seller on your hands and knees to let you pay it off over a few months. Until this morning, it was a gift you were proud to give him.

But his gifts to you took all morning to unwrap, while all you can offer is a shitty notebook and some amateur pottery. You hate not being able to return his generosity in equal measure. You hate feeling like you're always giving him the short end of the stick. Even now, when you have every reason to hate him, it hurts that you can't spoil him like he does you.

He finally looks up at you, dazed. "This is an original Murazaki. How did you know I wanted one?"

"You mentioned it a few months ago. When we were having dinner together in my apartment."

He puts the vase down carefully.

"You remembered?"

It's your turn to be confused. "Of course? You were really upset about it. You said he was your favourite artist but that you could never find any of his stuff for sale."

He stares at you like he's trying to pick you apart. You look down, embarrassed.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't get you more gifts. I feel like an ass. Like the world's worst girl-"

He grabs you before you can finish and pulls you flush against him. He buries his face in your hair. He takes a deep breath, like he needs to control himself.

"You remembered."

He kisses your temple and then presses his forehead against yours. His voice is low and loving and just a little shaky.

"Oh y/n, you're the best gift I could ask for."

Bonus: a yandere who only has one thing on his Christmas wishlist - you.

You wake up under his Christmas tree, cold and confused and still groggy from the sleeping pills he slipped you.

Your hands are tied behind your back and there's a cherry red gag in your mouth. You squirm, trying to pull your hands free. The floor is icy against your naked skin. Wait, naked?

You look down, horror clawing it's slow way up your throat. Most of your clothes are gone. And you're almost completely wrapped in ribbon.

Your thighs are held together with an excruciatingly tight bow. Two green rosettes are pinned to the lace of your bra. You can't see it, but there's a cute red bow stuck on your head too.

The door opens and you hear heavy footsteps on the basement stairs. You squirm, increasingly desperate to get loose.

"Wouldcha look at that? Santa brought me exactly what I asked for."

Your kidnapper squats down next to you, his eyes roaming your body. Taking in all the curves and dips. Mapping it out like it's his to explore. He reaches out and tugs at the ribbon tied around your throat.

"My girl all wrapped up under the Christmas tree."

He grabs your chin and tilts your face up towards his. His eyes are dark - the pupils blown out wide with lust, with hunger.

"Merry Christmas baby. I promise it'll be one you never forget.

[yuwuta]

YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU

cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear  

Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time. 

Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true. 

It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams. 

Or, perhaps, fuel them. 

“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.” 

You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes. 

Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?” 

Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches. 

“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”

Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips. 

“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.” 

“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.” 

Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.” 

You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds. 

“Tell me more about them.” 

Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks. 

“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.” 

“Unless a fourth happens.” 

Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.” 

You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world. 

“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.” 

“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.” 

“He?”

“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”

You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours. 

“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.” 

“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.” 

You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs. 

And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other. 

Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo. 

It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore. 

“You want a big family.” 

Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.” 

Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around. 

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 6 - The Last Goodbye

CW: Angst, thoughts of self harm.

Christmas is a tough time for me. Writing this part has really helped.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

A nurse shakes you awake. It’s a different nurse, one you don’t recognise. You prop yourself up getting ready to move but Johnny’s arms lock round you pulling you back up against him. 

“Johnny, there's a nurse here.” You say as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. 

“C’mon, don’t leave.” It breaks your heart. You force yourself to get out of bed. He sits up while the nurse walks over to do his obs. You bend down putting your boots back on.

“I mean it lass, please don’t leave, this room, or 141.” Your breath catches in your throat. Of course John told them. You hang your head. Guilt that's all you can feel.

“How do you think I can work with them again after-” it's pitiful the sob you let out, choking on the words. You can’t see good memories when you think of them, it's just pain. 

“I'll make them apologise. I’ll make them make it up to you. Whatever you want.” He says. You smile at his enthusiasm, you can’t blame him. The nurse finishes up, writing something in his chart before leaving. You move up to him and kiss him, he kisses you back, his hands grabbing your arms like he wants to pull you back in bed.

“I’m sorry Johnny, I need to go. I love you and Gaz. I always will.” He looks at you with pleading in his eyes. You have to hold it together, you can’t let him see you upset. Your hand goes up to brush his cheek. 

“I can’t love them right now. I can't, I'm sorry.” You let go of his face heading to leave the room. 

“Then me and Gaz will leave.” It stops you in your tracks, you turn back to look at him. 

“Johnny, you can’t do that. They’re your family, your brothers-in-arms. You’re not going to leave them, you can't.” You say, now you’re pleading. 

“They hurt you. I can’t forgive them for that.” 

“Yes you can Johnny, you have to, because I can’t.” 

“I’m so sorry they did this to you.” He says, you can hear the break in his voice even though he’s trying to hide it. 

“Yeah, me too.” You say as you leave the room.

______________

You’re in your room, packing, the duffle bag you unpacked less than a month ago is open again. It feels wrong throwing your gear in like you’re about to go home. You are about to go home, for a few months at least. 

John would only sign your transfer if you promised to see a therapist. You agreed to whatever he said, you just needed to get away. Talking to him was the hardest, at least with Simon he keeps himself to himself. John on the other time spends his time trying to apologise. 

Kyle has already been round asking if you need help. John has passed the hallway a few times, probably just to check on how you’re doing. He never says anything or offers to help but you can feel his presence. 

When Simon comes to the door the energy in the room changes. Hair stands up on the back of your neck, you turn your head slightly to see him as you fold your spare trousers up. 

“What do you want?” you say almost snapping at him.

“You don't have to leave.” Simon says. You look up at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, the only part of him he leaves exposed. His eyes just look dark, there's no love behind them. No hidden kindness.

“I do, I can't stand being in the same room as you. How the hell am I going to save you in the field?” You throw another shirt into the bag. 

“I want you to stay.” He says, you squeeze your eyes closed for a second feeling pain rise in your chest. Johnny and Kyle have already asked you to stay, they’ve already let their facades fall asking you as a partner, a lover, rather than a teammate or a person. 

“Then you shouldn’t have hurt me.” It comes out with a sob, you can’t help it. You clear your throat getting back to your bag. You hear Simon move behind you, his steps loud in the silence of the hall. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have hurt you.” His voice is low, you hear the croak in his words. You wipe the tears away as he talks.

You turn to shout at him but he's gone and a petrified looking soldier stands in your doorway.

"The base commander would like to see you."

________

You knock on the conference room door. Simon left before you, you spent a few seconds panicking. Why does the base commander need to see you?

“Come in.” You suck it up walking into the room. You look round, the base commander is standing at the top of the oval table. John and Simon are in chairs avoiding your gaze, you look at them for a second before waking up to the general. You step up to him, planting your feet on the floor putting your arms behind your back. 

You’re going to be professional, that's all they get. You don’t want to lose your job.  

“You’ve asked to move units?” The general asks.

“Yes sir.” You reply trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.

“As per the protocol I would like some feedback on your current unit-” He looks down at a piece of paper before looking back up at you. “-Special forces unit 141 led by Captain Price.” You swallow hard keeping your body locked in place. 

 “Captain Price is extremely professional and proficient in his field. He commands his unit to the highest standard. I can only speak well of 141 and it's ongoing fight against terrorism.” You say holding back the sob rising in your throat. It's rehearsed words, you don't even feel anything as they come out.

The general smiles looking over at Simon and John quickly before turning his attention to you. “You speak highly of your unit. Is there any reason in particular you’re requesting a transfer?” 

“Personal reasons sir,” you say. It’s the truth, they’re good at their job. You know that from personal experience. The world needs good counter terrorism units like theirs. For queen and country above all. 

“Well, your transfer is approved pending a psych evaluation. You will receive your new posting after said conditions have been met.” The general signs something then hands it to you.

“Do you have any other questions, sergeant?” He asks, you look down at the paper. That's it, it's official. You’re no longer part of 141. 

“No sir, thank you.” You say, he nods at you, you salute him, turning to look at John and Simon, both their eyes are on you. You look at them both then head for the door, you hope this is the last time you will ever see them.

______________

You’re walking to the exit of the base, carrying your heavy duffle bag over your back but it feels like a weight has been lifted. It’s only when you hear Kyle shouting for you the bag suddenly feels like it weighs 100 kilos. 

You turn to look at him, stopping in your tracks.

“You didn’t come to say goodbye.” He says, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

“I can’t. I can’t look you or Johnny in the eyes and leave.” You say, you’re trying not to snap at him. 

“Then don’t leave.” Kyle says. There it is again, the pain firing through your chest, like a stab to the heart. 

“Christ, Kyle. I can’t. I can’t look at any of you without wanting to run away, I could hurt you or-” Your voice is ringing in your ears. You’re hurting him. You’re screaming at Kyle and he did nothing wrong. Or maybe he did, Johnny and Kyle have been part of 141 for years. You joined a year ago. 12 months. 

You walk up to Kyle pressing your lips onto his, your hand wrapping around his waist. You kiss him deep, your tongue playing with his. You don’t care who sees. 

“I love you.” You say as you break from the kiss, pressing your forehead to his. “I’ll keep in touch. I promise. You and Johnny, if you want?”

“Of course I want that. Johnny too. I know you’re hurt but we’re here, day or night.” he says. You smile pulling away from him. You pull the duffle back bag tighter over your shoulder, turning away. 

“Go save the world Gaz.” You call walking out the base. He smiles at you, his hand running over his head. 

“Always!” he calls. There it is, the break. The crack in his voice, the tears down his face. 

You feel the guilt, you turn away heading over to the bus stop. You wish you could change things, make things better but you can’t. You can’t forgive John and Simon. Not now, not for a long time.

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[gilbertscurls]

christmas (baby please come home) — matt sturniolo

summary: when a twist of fate reunites you and matt at a holiday gathering, old wounds resurface, forcing you to confront the love you thought you'd buried years ago.

The first snow of December blanketed the town in a pristine white sheen, softening the harshness of the biting cold. You adjusted your scarf as you pulled into the driveway of the charming, snow-dusted cabin, your heart pounding more from nerves than the chill. Beside you, Paul grinned, completely oblivious to the storm brewing within your chest.

“Ready to meet the family?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Of course. I’m sure they’ll love me.”

The words were meant to reassure him, but you were the one who needed convincing. The holidays with Paul’s family should have been exciting, but an unshakable anxiety had clung to you since the moment he mentioned the gathering.

“They’re really great,” Paul continued as he unloaded your bags from the car. “You’ll love Julie. She’s the sweetest, and her boyfriend Matt is a good guy. Quiet, but cool.”

The name struck you like a thunderclap. You froze, the winter air suddenly suffocating. Matt? Surely, it couldn’t be…

“Matt?” you echoed, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Yeah,” Paul said casually. “You’ll meet him inside. I think he and Julie already got here. Come on, let’s head in. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

You followed reluctantly, your feet heavy with dread. Five years had passed since you last saw Matthew Sturniolo—five years since your love story had crumbled into silence. You hadn’t heard from him, hadn’t tried to reach out, hadn’t dared to look back.

The cabin door opened to a wave of warmth and chatter, the smell of pine mingling with cinnamon and nutmeg. Paul greeted his sister, Julie, with a hug before turning to introduce you.

And there he was.

Matt stood by the fireplace, his eyes locking on yours the moment you walked in. Time hadn’t dulled the intensity of his gaze. If anything, it made it sharper, weighted with unspoken words. His hair was longer than you remembered, and he carried himself with a confidence you didn’t recognize. But it was him.

“Y/N, this is my sister, Julie,” Paul said, oblivious to the tension suddenly thickening the room. “And that’s her boyfriend, Matt.”

Julie extended a hand, her smile radiant. “So nice to meet you!”

You shook her hand automatically, murmuring a polite response. But your eyes flickered back to Matt, who hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken.

“Y/N,” he said finally, his voice low, laced with disbelief.

Paul glanced between you two, frowning slightly. “Wait… you two know each other?”

The air crackled with the weight of the truth neither of you wanted to say. You swallowed hard, forcing a tight smile.

“We… grew up together,” you said lightly, as though the memories of your shared childhood and the heartbreak that followed weren’t threatening to choke you.

“Oh, small world!” Julie beamed. “This is going to be such a fun week!”

Matt’s jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving you. You could feel the questions in his gaze, the ghosts of your past clawing their way to the surface.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in a deceptive quiet, you realized this holiday was about to be anything but peaceful.

The cabin was alive with the warmth of laughter and crackling wood, but you had never felt more cold. Dinner was a blur of introductions, family stories, and clinking glasses. Your polite smiles were automatic, but your focus wavered each time you caught Matt’s eyes across the table. He sat beside Julie, their hands intertwined. Paul sat next to you, his arm draped over the back of your chair. The perfect symmetry of their group didn’t feel perfect at all.

“So, Matt,” Paul began, breaking your thoughts, “how did you and Julie meet?”

Matt hesitated for the briefest moment, his fork pausing mid-air. “Through mutual friends,” he said, his voice even. “It just… clicked.”

Julie leaned into him, smiling. “He was so shy, but I thought that was cute. He’s not as quiet as he seems, though—he has the driest sense of humor once you get to know him.”

You swallowed hard, forcing a bite of your mashed potatoes past the lump in your throat. That used to be your discovery, your secret treasure. You could still remember the way Matt used to make you laugh when no one else could, his wit sharp but never cruel.

“And what about you, Y/N/N?” Julie asked, her question dripping with unintentional irony. “How’d you and Paul meet?”

You blinked, startled by the use of the nickname you hadn’t heard in years. Matt’s head tilted slightly at the sound of it, and your stomach twisted.

“Uh, at a bookstore,” you said, managing a smile. “He asked me for a recommendation, and we just… started talking.”

Paul grinned, nudging your shoulder. “She’s underselling it. I walked into that store looking for a novel, and I walked out with a date.”

Everyone laughed, except for Matt, whose expression hardened almost imperceptibly. You pretended not to notice, but the tension followed you even as dinner wound down.

The forecast had warned of heavy snow, and by morning, the world outside was a swirling whiteout. Paul and Julie were busy in the kitchen, preparing lunch, while the others scattered around the cabin. You found yourself in the living room, staring out the window, lost in thought.

“Still hate the snow?”

The voice behind you was low, familiar, and entirely unwelcome. You turned to find Matt standing a few feet away, his arms crossed.

“Some things don’t change,” you replied, your tone colder than you intended.

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You haven’t changed much, either.”

“Neither have you,” you said, sharper now.

A bitter laugh escaped him. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You looked away, the unspoken weight of your shared past pressing on your chest. “Why are you talking to me, Matt? We’re not kids anymore. We don’t owe each other anything.”

“I’m not trying to stir things up,” he said, his voice softening. “I just—being here, seeing you—it’s… strange.”

“Strange?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “You think strange covers it? After everything—” You stopped yourself, taking a deep breath. “You have a girlfriend. I have Paul. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “You’re right. I’ll leave you alone.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you to the silence and the storm raging outside.

By the fourth night, the cabin’s family festivities had culminated in a bonfire behind the house. The fire’s warm glow illuminated the whole group as you huddled under blankets, sipping hot cocoa and sharing stories. But you felt like an outsider looking in.

You sat beside Paul, who was animatedly recounting a funny story about his childhood, while Julie leaned against Matt, her laughter filling the air. It was all so picture-perfect, so maddeningly normal.

“I need some air,” you murmured to Paul, excusing yourself before anyone could ask questions.

You wandered a little away from the fire, the cold biting through your jacket. You weren’t surprised when Matt followed you, his footsteps crunching in the snow.

“Y/N—”

“Stop,” you said, turning to face him. Your eyes glistened, reflecting the firelight. “Why are you doing this? Why are you making it so hard to forget?”

“I’m not trying to,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I just—I can’t pretend you’re not here. I can’t pretend like seeing you doesn’t hurt.”

Your breath hitched, your resolve crumbling. “Do you think it’s easy for me? Seeing you with her, pretending like we didn’t spend half our lives planning a future together?”

“Then why did you leave?” he asked, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Why didn’t you fight for us?”

Your eyes filled with tears, but you held his gaze. “Because you didn’t ask me to stay.”

The weight of your words hit him like a freight train. For years, he had carried the blame, the bitterness of their breakup. But now, the truth was laid bare between you, raw and unforgiving.

“Y/N…”

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Not here. Not now.”

You turned away, walking back to the bonfire, leaving him standing alone in the dark.

The week passed in a blur, tension simmering just beneath the surface. By the time the last day arrived, you were eager to leave. You packed your bags with shaky hands, avoiding Matt as much as possible.

But fate had other plans. You found him outside, leaning against your car, his expression unreadable.

“You’re really leaving without saying anything?” he asked, his voice quieter than before.

You hesitated, glancing around the snow-covered driveway before stepping closer. “What do you want me to say, Matt?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “I just… I think we should talk.”

Your stomach tightened, but you nodded, leaning against the hood of the car beside him.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest. “About Paul. About Julie. About us.”

“Me too,” he said, looking straight ahead, avoiding your eyes. “It’s not fair to them, is it? The way we’ve been acting this week.”

“No,” you agreed softly. “It’s not.”

Silence settled between you, the kind that spoke louder than any words. Finally, you turned to face him, your breath forming small clouds in the cold air.

“Julie’s good for you,” you said, forcing the words out even though they felt like glass. “I can see it. She makes you laugh. She looks at you the way I used to.”

He flinched at that, his jaw tightening. “Paul’s good for you, too. He seems like the kind of guy who knows how to take care of someone. He’s… steady.”

“He is,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But he’s not you, Matt. And maybe that’s a good thing.”

He turned to you then, his eyes filled with something between regret and longing. “I feel the same about Julie. She’s amazing, and she deserves someone who can give her everything. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that—not completely—not with you still in my head.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stared at each other, the weight of your words sinking in.

“So what do we do?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We try to be better. For them. For ourselves. We made choices, and it’s not fair to drag everyone else into our mess.”

You nodded slowly, tears welling in your eyes. “Maybe we don’t get a second chance. Maybe this is just… how it has to end.”

“Maybe,” he said, though his voice was thick with doubt. “But if there’s anything I’ve learned this week, it’s that I still want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

Your tears spilled over, but you smiled through them, a bittersweet expression that mirrored his. “I want that for you, too.”

You stood there for a moment longer, the snow falling gently around you, before you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a brief, fierce hug.

“Goodbye, Matt,” you whispered.

“Goodbye, Y/N/N,” he replied, his voice breaking.

As you got into your car and drove away, leaving the cabin behind, you felt a strange sense of peace. You weren’t meant to be, not now. But maybe that was okay. Some endings weren’t about closure—they were about choosing to move forward, even when the past still lingered.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim

[ninjaaa-go]

I was just thinking that, if we do actually get amnesiac Jay, him eventually getting his memories back could be really interesting. Because obviously you’ve got all the great memories with his family and the people he loves, but at the same time just— the horrors. The guy has so much trauma piled up from over the years and I feel like that would be A Lot to have dumped on you all at once.

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[oceantornadoo]

when you first start talking to simon riley, you want to check yourself into an insane asylum.

you like to think you’re cool, you’re chill, you’re nonchalant. but he takes eight hours to text back, sending you a “come over.” text at 7pm like he hadn’t just ignored you the whole day. you complain to your friends, of course, which is a terrible move when they tell you to drop him and if he wanted to, he would! and you think he does (want to), he’s just so insanely nonchalant about it. so the next time he comes over, chinese takeout in hand after not texting you back since 8am, you go a little crazy…

you open the door for him, stepping back awkwardly when he tried to peck your forehead. he practically shrugs it off, toeing off his boots before setting the food down on your table. “got tha’ dish ya like.” you nod, forgetting his back is to you. simon unpacks the boxes with precision from the bag, not stopping until it’s all laid out on the table. you’ve been quiet for a while, unusual since you’re the talker of the bunch, and that creeping feeling that’s been sliding up his skin finally sets its hooks in him. he turns around curiously, brows furrowing at the sight of you still standing by the door, biting your lip with a timid look and wet eyes. “love?”

you shake your head with a watery smile. “can we talk?” simon follows you as you walk to your couch, feeling like he’s been dropped into an op with no details. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that you’re hurting and he seems to be the cause of it. “i just…don’t get it. how you’re acting so normal.” you’re twisting your hands together. “somethin’ happen, love? got me confused.” you give him that small, weak smile again and it’s like you’ve stabbed him in the heart. “you- you barely talk to me all day and then you just come over here like it’s nothing. it’s just so hot and cold and i’m wrecking myself over it when it’s so clear you don’t care. i’m just so confused, si.”

simon runs through his memories. he texted you good morning, you texted it back, then he went about his duties for the day until he was finally free to ask about dinner. hadn’t even picked up his phone in the meantime, security risks or just plain busyness being the cause. “‘ve been busy, sweetheart. ‘s why i asked t’ come over when i was done.” you shake your head, biting your lip. “it’s the modern day, simon. everyone’s on their phones. i don’t think you’re as into this as me, and that’s fine, but i just want to know!”

now simon’s the one shaking his head, pulling out his phone. he might not be tech savvy but he does know this move from johnny, the fucker constantly complaining about his screen time. he pulls up the screen time tracker and turns it to you. “not everyone.” you’re a bit shocked to be honest. his screen time is ten minutes for the entire day. a few in the morning when he texted you and nothing until nighttime, when he texted you again. you’ve never seen anything like it.

“‘m not a big texter an’ we don’t use personal phones for work, so it’s jus’ a brick i leave at home or lug around. ‘s nothin’ on you. been thinkin’ about you all day, to be honest.” your mouth is open, honestly. any other man would have never shown you their minute-by-minute screen time, would have begged off the “busy” excuse while having been on social media for four hours. simon, by all standards, is genuinely different.

“so, you do like me?” he nodded stiffly, gloved hands reaching for you. you slid into his lap easily, tucking your face into his neck to hide your heated cheeks. you’d even shed a few tears over this, how embarrassing. “‘course i like you, sweetheart. an’ im sorry if it didn’t feel like it. let’s have it out, yeah?” you nod into his skin and he takes a deep breath, pulling you closer to his heart.

from that day on, you compromise with phone calls. when he’s got a few minutes and you’ve hit a lull at work, he’ll call you. it’s better than any text in the world - hearing his gruff voice asking questions about your messy coworkers or dinner plans. not so nonchalant as you thought.

-

i wish this was from personal experience but unfortunately for me, it’s closer to the men not responding for days but having a screen time of six hours.

[maskedbyghost]

part 1 <- the one where simon lost his memories and thinks you're his wife.

simon’s memory starts to return in bits and pieces, little flashes that remind him of things he’s supposed to know—names, missions, places he’s been. and then, of course, he remembers you, remembers everything. but he doesn’t say a word, choosing to stay in this pretend world where you’re his “wife.” he wants to see if maybe, just maybe, you feel something for him, too.

he starts dropping hints, little comments that feel loaded, even if they’re wrapped up in that casual charm of his. “you know,” he murmurs one day, lacing his fingers with yours, “feels good having you around like this. can’t imagine it any other way.” his eyes linger, studying your reaction, waiting for some sign that this means something to you, too.

and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he notices the way you blush, the way your smile falters for just a second before you look away, pretending not to be affected. he’s careful not to push too hard, but every touch, every affectionate “love” or “darlin’” feels like it holds a question.

the team starts noticing, too—price gives him a knowing look now and then, and johnny’s started making teasing comments, nudging you whenever simon’s not looking. it’s like everyone else knows this isn’t just an act anymore.

one evening, as you’re on a quiet walk outside, he turns to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “what would you say if i told you i remember everything?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

you freeze, processing his words, your heart pounding. “everything?”

he nods, looking a little nervous for the first time since this whole charade began. “i remembered a while ago,” he admits, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “but i didn’t say anything… i wanted to see if maybe you… wanted this, too.”

you stare at him, a mixture of shock and something that feels dangerously close to hope. “why didn’t you say something?”

he shrugs, looking down with a small, shy smile. “guess i wanted to keep this feeling going a little longer. being close to you, having a reason to call you mine, even if it was all pretend… i didn’t want to lose that.”

your heart aches at his words, the quiet vulnerability in them.

“you know,” you say softly, finally daring to reach out, resting a hand against his cheek, “it doesn’t have to be pretend.”

his eyes light up, his hand coming up to cover yours, holding it there as if grounding himself in this moment. “you mean that, love?”

“i do,” you whisper, smiling. “i think i have for a long time.”

and just like that, he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that feels like it’s been waiting forever. when you finally pull back, he’s smiling, his forehead resting against yours.

“guess that makes this official, then,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth.

“yeah,” you say, unable to stop smiling, “i think it does.”

-------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

[freedomfireflies]

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[emmyrosee]

I have an image of this man, leave me alone I sWEAR TO GOD-

——

Geto does this thing with his nose.

It’s something you noticed not too long ago, something he does when he’s lost in thought, deep in his memories and trying to sort out the pieces of puzzles in his head.

His nose, the perfect nose on that perfect face-

Scrunches up.

It wrinkles under the thoughts moving around his head, twitching side to side with with monotone “uhhhhh…” when you ask him spontaneous questions.

It writhes when he tries to choose his words carefully, usually when they’re ones of scolding, and it almost takes your focus from the topic at hand to how absolutely precious the sight is.

And yeah, it wrinkles under the force of laughter that he lets out, when he’s deep in joy and his smile is too big to contain, but that’s a corner of love that’s reserved for his hidden dimples. His crinkled little nose is far easier to activate.

Even right now, as you ask him what dinners he has planned the rest of the week, you’re barely able to keep track of anything he’s listing off because that pretty little nose scrunches between the days of the week.

“I guess I got the hamster wheel going?” You tease, chin resting dreamily on the palm of your hand. He cocks a brow, his lip twitching slightly in annoyance.

Along with his nose, of course.

“What did you call me?”

“I didn’t call you anything,” you snicker. “In your head. You’re deep in thought.”

“…. What?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile stays all the same, “nothing, babe. I just like your thinking face.”

“You should like all of my faces,” he says, wrinkling his nose as if wanting to say more, but fighting it back.

You smirk. Then, you lean up to gently grip his chin and kiss the tip of that wriggling nose.

“You’ve got no idea, Suguru.”

[bunnyhugs77]

High Demand

ꕤ- Pairing: Dealer! Jungkook x Reader

ꕤ- WC: 2.6k

ꕤ- A modern day Romeo and Juliet

Content: college student! reader, grumpy jk, brief texting! au, jk is lowkey whipped, drug use (marijuana), reader is his special customer, vaping, opposites attract, suggestive themes, minor jealousy, idiots in love (but they won't admit it), shot gunning, grinding, fwb?

Other Content: thigh riding, high sex, jk titty appreciation, unprotected sex (no.), hand job, soft dom kook, reader is a little needy, brief switch! koo, hickeys, pet names, spit, biting.

Shaking your head with a small giggle as you looked at your phone before tossing it aside. You're totally his favourite. You know he's stubborn and he would never admit it but deep down he loves delivering to you the most.

Looking around your sad and dimly lit dorm, all the lights were off and your roommate was gone for the weekend doing god knows what with her weird ass biology major boyfriend who would collect rabbit tails in jars for 'science'.

You were looking at one right now actually, it seems they left one behind, on the coffee table. It was just fermenting in... you actually weren't sure and didn't want to know.

Your eyes felt like they were on fire the longer you looked at the stupid philosophy paper you were writing. The bright light from your laptop was beginning to drill into your head. Your head lolled to the side glancing at the time on your phone.

It was almost 11:30, and time for a break. Abandoning the device on the couch for a quick wake-up shower; by the time you'd gotten changed and returned to the living room, you could expect Jungkook any minute now.

Except, this is Jungkook we're talking about. He's always late.

That's why when you heard the familiar rattling of the rusty fire escape you were startled. It was a little past midnight. Climbing through the window in nothing but your basketball shorts and a white tee.

Pleasantly surprised to see Jungkook scaling the platform with a bag of takeout pinned in between his teeth. The sight of you looking down at him from where he climbed made his eyebrows raise but of course he couldn't say anything.

Not until he was finally close enough for you to grab the bag from his mouth and he stands up. You climb back inside first with him following behind with a pained sigh. "I'm so sick of coming here. Got me climbing walls like its fucking subway surfers." He curses while you place the food down on the table.

Completely ignoring him, practically drooling as you slowly peeled open the bag. "And I thought you said you weren't gonna bring me anything." He snatches the bag.

"I didn't."

You let yourself fall onto the couch, arms crossed and unbelieving. "Oh yeah? So you just coincidentally craved Wendy's and decided to haul it up three flights up a ladder from your mouth when you could've just eaten it in the car?"

"Yeah exactly." He shrugs, obviously lying.

"Give me the bag, Jungkook."

"Fine. But I'm charging you extra for the delivery and the labour of bringing it up here." He hands it to you and you roll your eyes knowing it was nothing more than a bluff.

"It's not my fault you're out of shape," you mumble unwrapping the burger. "Oh yeah? Is this what out of shape looks like to you?" He says it almost offended but challenged.

Choking briefly on your food as he lifts up his shirt, revealing the defined abs that you have such lewd memories of. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You try climbing 3 flights up a ladder and tell me it's easy." You shrug,

"Not my fault you're banned from the campus." He drops himself down beside you, reaching for the bag of fries and taking some for himself. "But it is, if you hadn't called me to drop off a stash for Angelica's dorm party maybe I could still take the stairs."

You drop your half-eaten burger with apologetic eyes, "How was I supposed to know they were doing random security checks in the lobby? At least you didn't get arrested." You pout and he scoffs.

"Bare minimum." He says via grumpy mutter under his breath so you offered up the rest of your food to him as a peace offering. A little sad that he actually took it but you were getting full anyway.

As he finished up the rest of your food you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "So do you still do drops with Angelica?" He nods with his mouth full of the last bite, stuffing the wrappers back in the bag.

"How often does she call you?-- for deliveries I mean." He chuckles, licking his lips, "Jealous?" You take the trash off the coffee table and bring it to the kitchen to toss it in the garbage. "You're delusional."

"I can't help it if I'm in high demand." He manspreads, his arms stretched over the back of the couch. "Just shut up. Do you have my pen?" He reaches for the pocket inside his leather jacket, pulling out the slim box.

Already knowing that you were going to use it now, he began to unbox it while you collected the cash you needed. "40 right?" You say handing him the small spread of bills, "Yeah, but for you, I guess I could make it 30." He shrugs conceitedly.

"Because I'm your favourite." You say and he shakes his head, "No. Because I ate your food." Which he paid for but you didn't dare to say that out loud, you were getting cheap weed.

"So who's your favourite then Jungkook?" He hands you the pen, "Listen. I don't climb up the fire escape when I do deliveries for Angelica, I make her come to me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Trying to tug the pen out of his grasp but he holds it firm until you respond, "I guess I can work with that." He smiles softly, letting you take the first hit as his arm wraps around your shoulder.

The two of you passed the pen back and forth, with little giggles here and there and wide eyes on the episode of SpongeBob that was playing.

By now the dark living room is illuminated by nothing more than your roommate's lava lamp and a strip of purple LEDs' taped behind the TV. You could see the smoke as it floated past the few sources of light.

"Open." He directs, taking a particularly long hit, leaning into you and blowing the pungent smoke into your mouth, sucking it in from his lips.

The pen is now forgotten as it rolls between the cracks of the couch. Straddling Jungkook's muscular thigh as he flexed it every now and then, taking hits from his blueberry Ice vape and blowing it to the ceiling, giving you a prime view of his sharp jaw under the soft purple lighting.

The sight made you shake, gyrating your hips almost desperately as you chased the feeling of friction on his denim-clad thigh. "You like that? You feel good fucking yourself on my thigh?" The question was rhetorical, you were too dazed to answer him anyway.

Your heavy-lidded gaze slowly rolls up to his pretty face once you feel his hand move from your hips to gently wrap around your neck, not applying any pressure, just there to let you feel the weight of his hand. "Answer me," He says, and you fall forward "Yess, feels so good." You moan, and Jungkook has danced this dance with you enough to see you were close.

But of course, he couldn't let you cum so soon, not yet. His hands flew to your hips and pinned you down on his thigh, restricting your range of motion. "Please," You beg and he wishes he had a little more willpower but he couldn't say no to you, not when you looked so fucked out when he's barely touched you.

"Fuck. Take your shirt off." Leaning back and crossing your arms over the base of the shirt, you pried it off your body desperately. Leaving you in your black lacy bra and it pulled out a guttural groan from Jungkook's chest.

"You little whore." he grits through his clenched teeth, grip tightening on the arm of the couch nearly ripping the fabric.

This position was no longer giving him what he so desperately craved. Shrugging the jacket from off his shoulders and taking off the tank top underneath letting your eyes roam over his built upper body, oh how you wanted to just...

Without thinking your tongue striped up the expanse of his bulky pecs. This was new, but Jungkook was so high out of his mind anything and everything you did felt like he was on cloud 9.

Your mouth dropped down to wrap around his rosy nipples and you could've never anticipated the worked-up reaction you got from him. "Oh shit, shit shit." He gasps, hands gripping your waist tight enough that you're sure there will be bruises by the morning.

Letting your tongue lap around his nipples with pure hunger, an inexplicable flame burning in your core as you were finally the one who got to watch the other be reduced to a moaning mess.

His once soft moans turned a little breathy and high-pitched, His hips bucked causing you to jolt in his lap, he was getting close.

"Didn't think you'd like having your tits played with so much?" You tease him but he didn't find the humour in it. He holds you by the throat once more, this time applying a generous amount of pressure, pushing you off him.

Unbuckling his belt and you knew what that meant. He slides out of his pants, followed by the boxers that were the last barrier between your moistened lips and his throbbing cock. "Let's put that smart mouth of yours to good use, yeah?" He hums, watching as you sink to your knees, hand carefully wrapped around his base, starting with slow pumps.

"Spit on it." Doing as told, you let a wad of spit fall from your pretty, plush lips and coat the shaft of his dick, you worked your palm up his length. Already satisfied with the way his head was thrown back.

"Just like that," Reaching for the vape, he takes a few good hits, the head rush mixed with the pleasure had him seeing stars-- the object falling from his hands immediately the moment he felt the warm heat of your mouth wrap around his sensitive tip.

"Y/n-" He breathes out, almost scared, he was so close, too soon. He's never struggled to hold himself back this badly before. What were you doing to him?

The obscene sounds of you choking as you struggled to take all of him in your mouth, letting your nose touch the soft, trimmed hairs near his base. Focusing on breathing through your nose before you felt a heavy hand on the back of your head, pushing you lower.

You were quite literally slobbering on his dick, gagging with every buck of his hips. "That's it, princess. You're doing so well--Shit. Mouth feels like fucking heaven." His praise rushes to your core and has your left hand trailing down to rub yourself through your lace underwear.

The rough friction being more than enough to get you there, "I'm gonna cum, baby. Where-- Shit!-- Where do you want it?" He gasps, his hips snapping, pushing his length down your throat almost erratically. You don't answer, only hollowing your cheeks to take him deeper, making your desires clear.

Your own fingers quickening their pace, your own sounds travelling through his dick in vibrations and pushing him right over the edge with you, filling your mouth with his warm cum.

Swallowing as if it were second nature. "Stick out your tongue," He says softly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to regain his composure from his overwhelming climax. Your tongue was out and cleared of any of his cum and it made him crazy.

He remembers the first time he'd brought an order to you over 6 months ago. He thought you were nothing more than a cute little philosophy major, never did he think he'd have you beneath him like he does right now.

Looking up at him, daring to give you an almost angelic gaze while the two of you ruined each other. Tainting each other with your own touches. "Kiss me?" You ask it so cutely, tempting him with the pout on your lips. You weren't being fair.

His body didn't give him a choice before his lips were on yours, his hips grinding into yours. The feeling of his solid dick rolling against your skin making the butterflies go ramped in your stomach.

The way you licked over his bottom lip with your own made Jungkook weak, stumbling on his elbows as he held himself up over you. Soft groans could be heard the deeper the kiss became.

Messy and intimate. Your hand crept up the back of his neck to tug at the dark locks of hair on his head. There was a loud pop and the two of you paused.

With Jungkook between your legs and with you under him, your heads turned slowly towards the coffee table where the jar was, dedicated to the fermenting rabbit tail. "What the fuck is that?" Jungkook slowly sits up, "My roommate's boyfriend's weird biology shit. I dunno, it freaks me out too." You sit up, now remembering what the two of you were in the middle of doing.

"That shit's not gonna blow up or anything right." You gently peck him on the lips but his brain seems preoccupied by the jar, "who knows," you say, kissing right under his ear and that seemed to get him to zone in on you.

Catching his bottom lip under his teeth as your kisses became more eager, suckling on a certain spot on his neck, his head falling back against his will. "Fuck, Y/n-- Don't you dare." You pull off his soft skin with a soft pop, admiring the burgundy bruise left behind.

"Oops." Your apology was ingenuine and bratty, and Jungkook hated brats.

Tearing you out of your final pieces of clothing before manhandling you into his lap. "Sit on it." He demands and you follow without question. Moaning out loud as his dick spread your lips apart like butter.

Sliding down with ease and a stretch of your velvety walls that were currently squeezing Jungkook for everything he's got and he's got nothing left, everything was yours.

"I-Shit! You feel so good, Kook!" He couldn't bother to correct you on the annoying nickname you were incessant on using. "Yeah? You like that- fuck, you feel so good." He curses, bucking his hips up into you as you raise your hips trying to match his thrusts.

He was fucking you so good, so ruthlessly, your head falls onto his shoulder and you needed more than just the couch to hold on to, your teeth sank into the muscular meat of his shoulder and his pace faltered.

"Shit shit shit! Do that again." He groans, picking up an inhumane pace that had you bouncing all over the place until he stilled you in his arms. His grunts and breathy moans came out right beside your ear only pushing you to your orgasm faster.

"J-jungkook-!" You pant, unable to speak, feeling like your insides are being rearranged, "Me too, baby. Cum with me." You finish first, and with a few more unsynchronized snaps of his hips, you were being filled to the brim with his cum.

The room is filled with nothing but the sound of muffled music playing from your neighbour's next door and laboured breaths. Jungkook gently lays you down on the couch beside him, staring into your eyes.

This felt so intimate. You felt his gaze deeper than just behind your eyes, it was as if he was looking into your soul. His eyes were tinted red as he looked at you with an adoring gaze. "You're cute." He says it casually as though he hadn't just fucked you.

Your eyes roll before they close, feeling the sleepiness begin to kick in. "Bet you say that to all your customers." Mumbling the words into his chest while he began to grin a little.

"Nope. Only to my favourite." Your eyes shoot open.

"I knew it."

[with-my-calamitous-love]

HE SAW FOREVER SO HE SMASHED IT UP

katsuki bakugou x reader

the times bakugou broke your heart

heavily inspired by mbobhft

1) the denial

“are we breaking up?”

“…yeah.”

“oh.”

his reasons made sense. he had a job, a goal, a burning drive to prove himself as the best. he was burnt out, his fingers worked to the bones. he couldn’t give you not just what you wanted, but what you needed. and that killed him more than it did you.

it made sense. the gears turned. the writing was on paper. like almost everything he did, it worked out. of course it worked out for katsuki bakugou- he’s the best.

it wasn’t all that set in stone for you, however.

he could have given you a million more reasons before the tears spilled. “i’m an asshole.” true. “i don’t treat you right.” fair. “you deserve so much fuckin’ better, [y/n.]” yeah, he was right.

but you always liked to challenge the acceptable.

at first, it didn’t hit you as hard as you thought it would. you walked through your room, too numb to pay mind to the tears that rolled down your cheeks, and silently packed up his sweaters into a box. the necklace he gave you, the ‘k’ pendant, came off your neck like a butterfly lands on a branch, knowing that its death is inevitable and doing nothing to stop it.

at night, you cried, and cried, and cried. you called him about 27 times. he never answered. he texted you to make sure you were okay, but your tear-blurred eyes kept you from seeing the keyboard clearly. you left him on seen and prayed that he was worried, prayed that his heart would explode at your lack of an answer, prayed to god that he would come over just to check on. suffice to say your prayers were left unanswered.

you thought he’d call. but he didn’t. but your soul remained devoted, eyes glued to your phone screen and hands shaking. he has to call. he has to tell you goodnight. he has to tell you that you’re an idiot. he has to tell you he loves you. he’s going too, idiot.

right?

2) the anger

if he wanted you dead, why didn’t he just say?

your heart burned for anger. for salvation. for revenge. you knew katsuki bakugou knew anger well, but he had no idea the way your soul flared like a whole new depth of hell.

you laid in bed, awake, eyes excruciatingly drive from crying your tear ducts may as well have been burnt off. memories of him haunted your brain while your fists tightened.

you regretted giving him your heart. your love. your late nights and early mornings. your fights, your passions, your 2ams and your smiles. you hated the way you let him draw the laughter out of you, how he showed parts of himself to you he had never shown anyone.

and those little things that made up your love, he was going to use on someone else. you knew it.

he was going to cook them his special fried rice his mom taught him how to do. he was going to teach them how to punch because he doesn’t want them to get hurt- something he did for you. he was going kiss them how he kissed you, love them in a way that should have only been you.

but he shouldn’t. in fact, he should look back at what you had, and regret every. single. thing. he did to let is end. he should regret everything he didn’t do to keep you. he should burn alive from guilt. scream. cry. fight for his life while his body is doused in gasoline. attempt miserably to tear the fire off his skin while it burned him to a crisp. he should die screaming.

he should deserved it, after all. because he heard your screams, and put his headphones on.

3) the bargaining

please. you wailed. who do i have to talk to? what do i have to do to get him back!?

you suddenly thought of so many scenarios in your head, scenarios fuelled by false hope. things you’d do to kiss him one last time, to hold him, to love him and be loved by him. you’d dry the ocean water. you’d turn stones into gold. you’d bring him to heaven and back. you’d get out of bed. you’d compromise more. you wouldn’t forget to kiss him. you’d love him. you’d love him so much harder. please.

suddenly everything seemed possible. if someone answered your calls, if someone made a deal with you, you’d offer up everything. you were sure you’d place everything on the line for him. you want it all back- his yelling, his snark, his nicknames, his attitude, his everything- no, your everything. you’d pluck out your own eyes for his red ones, or your heart for his heroic soul that loved you brighter than anyone else. being loved by katsuki bakugou was something you wouldn’t trade for anything- turns out you couldn’t trade it either.

4) the depression

everything smelled like him. your sheets blossomed into his sweet, burnt scent, the one that he’d leave behind whenever he slept over simply because he left you. all your jackets felt like his chiseled arms, wrapped around you as if you’d be gone in a moments notice. his voice was everywhere. the songs on the radio, the words you read on your phone, and the memories that played like your favourite movie soundtrack.

you wondered if he knew you couldn’t get out of bed. sometimes you imagined him calling your ass lazy, and then dragging you out of bed with a kiss to your forehead and a breakfast he cooked for you. maybe then you’d rip off the sheets and face the day. but right now, your bed was the only place you could mourn.

it was cruel, in a sense. letting you fall in love with him only to leave. letting you fall in love with his stupid smug smirk, his laugh, his teasing, his anger, his unreasonable handsomeness, his millions of pet peeves and trigger words, his clinginess, his distance, his days and nights, ups and downs, his hate and love all tied into one. he made you love him, knowing you would never get to love another katsuki bakugou.

5) the acceptance

acceptance was bakugou realizing how badly he fucked up.

part 2 soon!

[reidswhre]

on your shoulder; spencer reid x fem!reader

sumamary: based on the episode of "the office" where pam falls asleep on jim's shoulder!

warnings: pure fluff!! early seasons spencer!

a/n: just a lil reminder that my request are open! you can go and send me some 🫶🏼 also english isn’t my first language, let me know any mistakes.

You loved Aaron Hotchner, no doubt he was an amazing boss, and you had no complaints about him. The problem started when he organized those... little meetings, which, well, could be kind of boring.

And honestly, you hadn’t been sleeping well these last few days either. There was a lot of paperwork left from the cases that had to be dealt with immediately, which didn’t really help your sleep schedule.

Right now, Hotch was giving a talk about... hmm, you weren’t sure. Maybe about victimology or something like that, but you were way too tired to pay attention.

“Hey, you okay?” A voice came from your left, it was Spencer sitting beside you.

“What? Yeah, yeah, of course,” you yawned. “I just haven’t slept well.”

“I figured. You should try to get some rest, not sleeping decreases your attention, concentration, and memory. Plus, it lowers your work performance. It can even cause anxiety or depression,” Reid explained.

Your eyes opened wide. “What?! Depression?! Spencer, no way. I’ve just stayed up late a few nights, I’m fine.” You chuckled and leaned back in your chair, almost looking like you were going to fall out of it.

“It’s okay,” he said, watching you.

He used to take his time watching you, not in a creepy way, at least he hoped not. It was more like you sparked his curiosity, he thought you were really pretty.

He saw you fighting to keep your eyes open, which you were definitely losing. Your eyes were closing, your lashes falling down, and your cheeks had a lovely blush to them that you probably added this morning. You looked beautiful.

Spencer felt your head drop onto his shoulder, and he immediately tensed up. The scent of your shampoo hit his nose, it smelled fresh and sweet, just like you.

He relaxed a little, letting you rest for the remaining part of Hotch’s magnificent meeting.

You opened your eyes after a while, feeling a bit lost. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” You lifted your head when you realized it had been resting on Spencer.

“Don’t worry about it, it didn’t bother me.” He gave you a small smile, the kind where he kept his lips closed.

You looked around and realized no one else was in the room except for the two of you. “Where is everyone?” you asked Spencer, confused.

“They, uh... well, they left,” he said, looking away. “The meeting ended.”

You gasped in surprise. “What? How long ago?”

“Not long... maybe half an hour,” he said, finally looking at you.

“Half an hour?! Spencer, why didn’t you wake me up?” You could feel the embarrassment filling every inch of your body. You had been asleep on him for more than half an hour?!

“I... well, you—” He stumbled over his words. “You looked comfortable and... you needed the rest, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me? I was bothering you! I’m so sorry, seriously.” You were too embarrassed to think straight.

“What? No, no, really, it wasn’t a bother at all, never would be.” He gave you a sincere look.

You smiled at this; he was always pretty sweet with you. “Thanks, really.”

He gave you a small smile in response.

“So...” You glanced around the empty room. “What did I miss?”

“You should’ve paid attention,” Spencer teased.

“Very funny, huh?” You rolled your eyes.

Spencer looked at you, and honestly, he loved the idea of having you this close all the time.

[ienjoywritingfilth]

a sinner i am

If its so wrong, why does it feel so good?

trope: Boyfriend's Dad PP character: Joel Miller x f reader summary: Your boyfriend Shawn Miller and his dad Joel bring you along to Hawaii for Christmas vacation. Things don't go as planned.

warning: 10/10 on the sexual tension scale, slowishh burn, kissing, grinding, cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golf and he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. rating: E

words 6.8k

wanna see my other stuff?

part i : takeoff

The best things in life are the people we love, the places we’ve been, and all the memories we’ve made along the way. - author unknown

"Loving him is a sin; of that I'm fully aware. But a sinner I am." - Bella Jewel

Your boyfriend Shawn brings over two iced coffees as the two of you work on a crossword together at your local coffee shop. You have been filling in the squares quickly.

"Thanks babe," you say warmly as you take the coffee from him. He presses a kiss to your temple, taking a seat next to you. 

"Damn, you're fast this mornin'," he says when he sees all you've filled in. It's a tradition for the two of you; weekend crosswords over coffee. It's nice. It's domestic. 

It's a little boring. 

You're college sweethearts who met your sophomore year and have been inseparable since. And while the love is still very much there the butterflies have unfortunately been hibernating for a while. 

It's normal, you tell yourself when you sometimes zone out during sex. It's normal when you've been together with someone so long. 

"It's so nice to be doing this instead of college essays," you say. 

"Fuck yeah it is." 

This is your first summer of freedom without the threat of schoolwork looming in the near distance. Shawn is starting his master's in the fall and you've just accepted a position at the local museum. 

“Just think I’ll actually be able to enjoy Christmas this year,” you tease. “Unlike someone who’ll be working on essays.”

“Hey now,” Shawn says with mock offence. “I’ll be able to enjoy my Christmas just fine. Actually, my dad wants to celebrate Christmas somewhere warm this year. He's talkin' about some resort in Hawaii."

Shawn comes from money, the son of the infamous Joel Miller of The Miller Company, the premiere construction firm in Texas. This means expensive vacations, nice cars, all of that is normal for him. You meanwhile have had to work hard for everything you have.

Being left behind at Christmas seems strangely unkind for the normally thoughtful head of the Miller family. Shawn's dad has always treated you like one of the family so this news is unexpected.

"Have a great time," you say trying not to be jealous. "Bring me back some chocolate macadamia nuts."

You can admit that even though both Shawn and his father are humble, kind men, you're always a bit bitter that they live so nicely. Leaving you out of their holiday vacation seems especially unkind. 

"He's taking both of us babe," Shawn says with a grin. "You think he's gonna leave you behind on Christmas? After you’ve spent the last six with us?" 

Christmas in Hawaii? Is this a dream? Your pencil lays forgotten on the table as you gape open-jawed at your boyfriend. 

"Are you serious?"

"Babe," Shawn says meaningfully. "My dad likes you better than he likes me. Of course you're invited."

You've always gotten along with Joel. It's impossible not to. He's friendly, funny and charming. There's a reason he's good at his job. And you're a good girl, a kind girlfriend to his son with clear career ambitions. 

A smile breaks out over your features and you pull Shawn into a tight hug. He chuckles, embracing you back, kissing your cheek. 

"Make sure you don’t overpack, okay?" He murmurs in your ear as you giggle. “I don’t feel like helping you haul six bags of shoes for a week-long trip.”

Thoughts of lounging by the pool with a drink in one hand and a magazine in the other while the Hawaiian sun beats down on you is all too enticing. You kiss him fiercely, imagining the time together.

"I can't wait." 

The two of you finish the crossword puzzle all the while talking about the drinks and food and the excursions you'll both take. 

"Maybe once I've got a handle on school we can think about findin' an apartment in the new year," Shawn broaches, his hand over yours.

Sex fades, but this? This domestic stuff you have with Shawn? That's special. That's love. 

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He gives you a smile, that dimple poking out of his cheek that makes you swoon.

"Ready to go?" Shawn asks, extending his hand to you when your coffees are drained. 

"Yeah," you say with your hand taking his. "Let's go."

When December twentieth announces itself with a thunderstorm you couldn’t care less because you’re at the airport. Your large rolling bag bag is stuffed with cute outfits, swimsuits and even some snorkelling gear. 

"Feels like you got a dead body in here," Shawn laughs as he struggles with the two bags, handing you yours before swinging an arm around your shoulders. 

"I wanted to be prepared."

"Let's go my little Girl Scout," he laughs with a gentle kiss to your temple. You both check in and then find your boarding gate. 

"I'm gonna grab breakfast, you want anything?" Shawn asks as he parks you and the suitcases by the gate full of noisy travellers. 

"Nah, I'm good." 

Shawn jogs off in the direction of a Starbucks you passed on your way in. 

Out the larger windows you can see planes taking off. You've never flown before; you thought that you'd be excited. But at the first view of those planes out the window you feel your stomach drop. 

They’re so big and bulky. How does it fly properly? It couldn’t. What if people shift around too much in their seats? Surely this can’t be a safe form of travel!

You pull out your phone, distracting yourself with a game. You try for several moments but your eyes keep being drawn to the huge planes outside. You grimace, wondering if you should have gotten your doctor to prescribe you something for anxiety. 

"Cheer up," a voice says. "You look like you're goin' to prison, not a five star resort." 

You glance over to see Shawn's dad, Joel, at the other side of you, an amused look on his handsome face. He's wearing jeans and a faded grey Longhorns t-shirt. You're momentarily thrown as normally you see him in dress pants and button downs for work. 

"I'm excited for the resort, just not the giant metal death box hurling through the air that is my only means of getting there." 

"Touche."

Shawn jokes about Joel liking you better then he likes him, but the truth is you and Joel are very similar. Your senses of humour, your ability to read people, your tendency to see the worst in people before they prove themselves worthy.

Shawn is more like his mom, sweet and naive at times, always seeing the good in people. It's ironic considering which parent stuck around to raise him and which one escaped the country six years after Shawn was born. 

Joel takes the empty seat next to you, his kneecap kissing yours as he pulls out his phone. 

"Never flown before," you explain. 

"Ah, I see," Joel puts his phone in his pocket, his attention fully fixed on your face. "Well what if I told you it's actually the safest way to travel?"

"I'd call you a liar."

Joel chuckles richly, his hand falling to your knee and squeezing as he laughs. 

"I promise you, I wouldn't take you on anything unsafe. And if all that's not good enough, you'll have Shawn beside you holding your hand the whole time."

You grin at that, nodding. The thought of Shawn being there does help your anxiety. Joel smiles back, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

"Thank you so much for inviting me along in this trip, Joel. I've always wanted to go to Hawaii."

"S'a beautiful place," Joel nods. "And you don't need to thank me. You're practically family at this point." 

Shawn returns with a muffin and two coffees in hand. 

"Hey dad, got you a coffee," Shawn says handing it to his father. 

"Thanks," Joel says gratefully. Just then the intercom alert sounds 

"Good afternoon passengers.This is the announcement for flight 82B for Oahu, Hawaii. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Thank you.”

“That’s us.”

The lineup goes uncomfortably fast. You stand beside Sean who is talking to Joel behind you, the two of them deep in conversation about football, a subject you couldn't care less about. You are still too preoccupied with the flight, being surrounded by almost all strangers sailing through the sky. 

You're not a fan of heights. So when you get to the door of the plane you hesitate, willing your foot to move. When it doesn't and the flight attendants shoot you a confused look, you feel yourself start to panic. 

Shawn has gone on ahead to grab your seats and place your carry-on bag in the overhead bin, not noticing that you're not behind him. A large hand flies to the small of your back, a comforting gesture. Joel. He rubs there, soothing you. 

"You'll be okay darlin'," he rumbles in your ear. "Remember, it’s safer than drivin' a car."

“Liar.”

Joel’s deep chuckle makes you grin and you allow Joel to gently prod you onto the plane, shooting the waiting attendants grateful looks for their patience. He takes his seat near the front, watching as you make your way to your seat next to Shawn. As you buckle in a thought occurs to you and you move your voice to a whisper.

"Isn't it gonna be kinda weird with us being there all week with just your dad? I mean, sharing the place and all?" 

"Nah, he made sure the rooms were far apart. Plus, he invited his girlfriend to come along so I doubt we'll see much of him."

Joel is a chronic workaholic, often pulling late nights and working on his phone. You’ve seen him out and about with beautiful women at the events Shawn takes you to but never formally dating them. You always assumed to be a lifelong bachelor. You wouldn't blame him, especially after what he's been through with Shawn's mother. 

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend," you say honestly. "Good for him."

"A couple months now," your boyfriend tells you. "You know my dad, mister private. But he took me to dinner and told me about her so I think he's getting serious." 

"That's really sweet," you say honestly. You want nothing but the best for him. 

All of a sudden the plane starts to jiggle, sending people stumbling down the aisles and others gasping in surprise. You reach over and grab Shawn's hand, trying to regulate your breathing. 

"Not so tight, babe," Shawn complains before gently sliding his hand from under yours. "You scratched me with your nails."

"Sorry," you mumble, eyes closed as the jostling of the plane continues.  

You tighten your seat belt before gripping the seat arms so tightly that your knuckles are white. Sean squeezes your kneecap, murmuring that everything will be okay and that you’re safe. You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus on the soothing sounds of his words.

Eventually the plane enters smooth skies and the seat belt sign is turned off. Despite this you remain keyed up, sitting stiffly as Shawn fades into a nap. 

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You crack open an eye to see a beautiful redheaded flight attendant bending down towards you with a glass of what appears to be whisky in her hand.  She extends it towards you and you take it confused.

"This is from the gentleman in A-1. He says to take this and you'll be relaxed for the rest of the flight." 

You look up a few rows to see Joel giving you a brief wave. You thank the women before raising it towards Joel in a Cheers motion. 

Drink it. Joel mouths. 

Yes, sir. You mouth back complete with a stiff fake salute before tossing back the drink. 

He grins at you before settling back in his seat. 

The drink does the job. 

"Here we are."

The cab drops the three of you in front of the beach resort. When you step out the air is fragrant with the scent of flowers. You wait while Joel checks you all in before he's back, motioning for you both to follow. 

There's the main section of the resort with luxurious hotel rooms. The more secluded section contains a variety of self contained houses that dot the waterfront. Its reserved for people who have unlimited credit card limits and drive cars that cost more than your parents first home.

When you arrive to your unit, your eyes are ready to bug out of your head. It's massive, as far as vacation rentals go. When you all step into the air conditioned unit you have to take a moment to take it all in. 

The beach house is beautiful with floor to ceiling windows, stunning tile floors and tasteful furniture. All of this is topped off with spectacular views of the beach outside your door. 

A plate of sliced pineapple and chilled wine sits on the kitchen table, along with a note that Joel reads when he wanders over. 

"Welcome note," he explains when he sees you looking at it. "I knew the owner back in trade school." 

You and Shawn nod, your boyfriends hand trailing down your back gently. It's much the same as what Joel did back at the airplane, but it feels different. You trail your suitcase behind you hearing the clack of it against the stone floor as you move around the room. 

"Wow." 

It's all you can utter as the three of you tour the rest of the unit. There’s a simple kitchen with an expensive looking coffee machine and a brand new bag of kona coffee waiting to be used.  The living room holds a table and four chairs, a few board games and a list of nearby places to visit along with the wifi code.  The couch is simple, placed in front of a large television that you’re sure you won’t use.

"My bedrooms on the right," Joel tells you both. "Yours it's on the left. We're sharin’ a bathroom, sorry about that. Pretty common in these places." 

Who cares about sharing a bathroom when you're in one of the most beautiful places you've ever been? Even the bathroom is beautiful with its high waterfall shower head and sleek marble. This place must have cost a fortune for the week. 

Joel encourages you both to take a look at your room down the hall and you don't hesitate to take Shawn's hand, dragging him there. Shawn pushes open the door to the bedroom and you can't hold in your shriek. 

"Holy shit! It's gorgeous!" 

The big windows overlook the ocean, the late afternoon beach beckoning to you. The bed is large and plush with white sheets, and framed prints of Oahu sunsets. Its spacious, the bed so large it looks like two giant beds pushed together. The closet is spacious and boats dozens of wood coat hangers.

“Wood, because it’s classy,” you tell Shawn in amusement who is already unpacking his suitcase while you continue to stare in a daze. 

"You like it?"

Joel is standing at the door frame, a shoulder balanced against it, watching you take it all in. He's smiling at you in that gentle, sweet way of his that makes you feel cared for. 

You're suddenly overcome with gratitude and you streak over to him. 

"Thank you, Joel!" You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever been."

Joel laughs along with Shawn at your embrace and enthusiasm, holding you around the middle and hoisting you in his arms. Your face presses into his neck as he squeezes you, and the scent of leather and sandalwood envelops you. 

You've never really hugged Joel before. Maybe a polite side hug during family events, a high-five during baseball games and even once a hard push to his shoulder when he made fun of you for being afraid of a spider that had gotten into the house. 

But you've never had your front pressed to his, never really felt the muscles of his back and arms, seen the tendons in his neck or realized just how big his hands are when they squeeze your waist before lowering you.  

"I guess that means you like it," he says, red-faced. You pull back, embarrassed at your overzealous response. 

Shawn and his dad are very similar in their looks. Except Shawn is clean-shaven while Joel has a beard and Shawn's eyes are hazel like his mom's while Joel's are the darkest brown you've ever seen. You've never really noticed how dark until this very moment. 

You shoot him a cheery thank you again before smiling and skipping over to Shawn announcing that you'll unpack as well. 

"You two enjoy, I gotta make a few calls but then we can head out to dinner."

"Sounds great," Shawn says as he searches for his phone charger. 

Joel closes the door behind him and you turn to your boyfriend. You can't explain it but you feel turned on. The Hawaiian air must be doing something to you because

You crawl towards where he kneels unpacking. You grin, feeling the pulse of desire hitting you below the navel. You kneel beside him, dropping your voice to a husky murmur. 

"Should we break the bed in?" 

An hour later the three of you are sitting at a local eatery. Joel and Shawn are talking with one another while you scan the busy restaurant. 

Couples, families, all laughing and cheerful. And why wouldn't they? This is Paradise after all. But you don't feel anything like it, if anything, you feel like a little black rain cloud. 

Shawn turned down your earlier advances, citing that he was too tired. The problem is for the past three months Shawn has been too tired most of the time. At first he blamed grad school but when you pointed out he still made lots of time for gaming with best friends Brian and Kevin he'd been quick to explain that gaming relaxed him. 

That conversation had gone over about as well as a turd in the punch bowl. You remember being so hurt at what you felt was a slight against you. Weren't you relaxing? Weren't you something that made him happy? 

So yeah, you had hoped that this little vacation might stir some of that old spark back. But maybe you were too eager. You had just arrived at the place after all. Maybe you were being unfair. Still, the rejection stung.

"Thought we could do all the tourist-y shit while we're here," Joel says after you've all placed your orders. "Luau, sunset cruise."

"Snorkelling?" Shawn offers. 

"Hell yes," Joel nods grinning. "ATV tour too."

The Millers like to have fun. They also like to keep busy. It's like second nature to them to be off on adventures or activities. You meanwhile plan on spending lots of time by the pool or the beach, reading and drinking. 

"What about you, darlin'?" Joel asks between sips of whisky. "What're you hopin' to do?"

You know exactly what. The thing you've been dying to do since you were a kid at the aquarium. 

"I wanna swim with the turtles."

Shawn bursts into amused laughter beside you, and if you weren't already irritated with him before, you certainly are now. He grins at you not understanding that you're secretly furious with him. 

"Turtles? Really?"

"What's wrong with turtles?"

"Seems kinda babyish doesn't it?"

"What's babyish about liking animals?" Joel cuts in. "You forgetting about the time we wouldn't let you in the petting zoo and you threw your shoe at me?"

"I was five, dad."

"Yeah well, some things don't change," Joel says with a smirk. "Still throwin' tantrums when you don't get your way."

"Fuck off old man," Shawn says through chuckles. “Don’t forget I’m your only child. I pick which retirement home I’m gonna stick you in when your mind goes.”

“Little bastard,” Joel mutters, trying to hold back a loud laugh.

He settles for tossing a drink umbrella in Shawn’s direction, chuckling when Shawn dodges it easily. You can't help but laugh along with him, your bad mood fading. 

By the time dessert arrives you're all several glasses of wine in reminiscing about Shawn's last attempt at surfing. 

"I've gotten better," he exclaims. “I swear.”

"Yeah well we'll see about that," Joel says paying the check. "Alright team, let's head back and get some shut eye. This old man needs it." 

You roll your eyes at that. Joel isn't even fifty and even if he was he's about the best looking man his age bracket and younger. You've seen the way women stare at him, whispering, blushing when he looks their way. He is not what you’d qualify as old.

The three of you arrive back at the unit to the sound of nighttime creatures croaking and buzzing. 

"Alright I'll meet you two out here tomorrow morning around nine. We can go to the excursion desk and plan the week. Sound good?"

"Sounds good, night Dad."

"Night Joel."

The three of you part ways into the opposite bedrooms. Shawn nuzzles your neck gently kissing there. He always does that when he's been drinking. You smile delightedly at this, eager to get into bed.

When the lights are off and the two of you have slipped off your clothes and under the covers you roll towards him, peppering his face with soft kisses. 

"It's late, babe," he murmurs, kissing you sweetly but with finality. 

"We're on vacation," you remind him, slipping your hand under his boxers.

You feel him slowly start to harden in your grip. You hear his breath hitch and you smile, knowing those sounds so intimately. You tug off your panties and slide onto his lap, preparing to ride him. 

"Fuck me," you whisper, hips grinding against his. "Wanna feel your cock in me."

“Baby, no.”

Shawn pulls you off of him and you tumble into the bed next to him, feeling your cheeks grow hot with humiliation.

"My dad is right across the hall," Shawn hisses. “I don’t want him hearing us.”

Rejection never sits well with you and immediately you feel yourself growing defensive. 

"You're dad is gonna be across the hall the whole week, Shawn,” you whisper angrily. “So what, we're not going to have fuck this entire trip?"

"We'll have sex," Shawn said rolling his eyes. "Just not when my dad is ten feet away sharing a fuckin' bathroom with us."

Bullshit. Another excuse to put off the intimacy that’s been dwindling for months. You push yourself from the bed, tugging on your dress from earlier. Shawn leans up on his elbows, giving you a look of concern.

"Where are you going?"

"A walk."

"I'll c---"

"No," you say sharp as a knife. "I want to go alone." 

You stalk out of the house, eyes glossy with hurt and anger. That's the thing they don't tell you about relationships that have gone on so long -- both partners need to work to keep the fires going. 

You make your way to the beach along the softly lit pathway. Its well after midnight and the resort is quiet; the lights dimmed or off entirely. You take a seat on a nearby rock, listening to the gentle sound of the evening waters lapping by the shore. You're very excited to go swimming tomorrow. To feel the warm sand underneath your feet. 

You can hear noise coming from the far end of the resort. You remember over dinner Joel going through the resort map on his phone, letting you know what amenities they had. He had told you both about the dance club the resort had.

Shawn had immediately laughed, stating that he’d take a pass on it.  Shawn hates dancing. You tried to get him to do dance lessons with you once but he wouldn't even give it a shot. 

Right now it seems all you can do is focus on Sean's flaws. You know that he's a decent man, you know the treats you well, but there are these bugaboos these irritants that can't help frustrate you right now. 

"Fuck it," you murmur to yourself, raising yourself from the sand and brushing it from your sundress. You follow the sound of the music, stopping in front of a door with blinking lights. A man in a blue Hawaiian shirt smiles at you when you approach. 

"Aloha, may I ask your Unit number?"

"Number 4, under Miller."

The man types into his computer before nodding, opening the door for you. You step into the darkness, letting your eyes adjust to the blue lights and colourful dance floor. The speakers are playing typical vacation music with a heavy bass.

Bodies writhe on the dance floor, half naked in revealing dresses or in the men's case, unbuttoned shirts. You order a drink at the bar, taking it with you as you scout the area for a free chair. A hand on your wrist surprises you.

"Joel?"

Joel is seated at one of the small circle tables nursing what appears to be a tumbler of Scotch. He motions for you to take the free chair next to him and you do gratefully falling into it, your arm bumping his. 

"What are you doin' here? Since when does Shawn dance?" He asks over the bass, grinning. He looks a bit tipsy, his neck red. 

"He doesn't, I'm here alone. I needed to blow off some steam," you tell him over the music. 

"Me too," he says loudly back. "Couldn't sleep. Too excited, I guess." 

You nod, looking back at the dance floor wistfully. Everyone looks like they're having such a fun time, their worries and concerns far away from them as they undulate to the rhythm of the music.  Joel takes another sip of his drink, watching you from the corner of his eyes. 

You wish Shawn was here with you, you wish he was spinning you around on the dance floor. You wish it was like those early years where you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

"You and Shawn doin' okay?"

Joel's voice cuts into your confusing thoughts. You glance his way.

"Why do you ask?"

"Cuz I'm a dad," Joel. "And I've been married. And I know what tension between two people looks like." 

You sigh heavily, your mind drifting to earlier. You don’t answer Joel because what would you tell him? You can’t tell your boyfriend’s dad that you’re worried his son is growing distant. You can’t tell him that your sex life has been disintegrating for the past several months. Instead you just shrug.

"You two talked about marriage?"

"What? No.”

You and Shawn have been together a long time, but you have no intention of settling down anytime soon. Sean is still doing his masters and you're loving your job at the museum.

"Good. No, not like that," Joel amends when he sees your stricken expression. "I just mean you're both so young."

"You were younger than us when you got married.”

"Yeah and look where that got me," he says with a scoff. 

"Yeah, well, I think it's just been a long time and we're hitting a rough patch. Nothing we can't overcome," you add quickly. "It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," Joel nods. "I know." 

The two of you lapse into silence, watching the twirling, shouting, laughing people swan around you. You shouldn’t be glum, you should be experiencing life!

"You wanna dance?"

His voice is low and husky in your ear. You start, surprised to see Joel inches from your face. You know he's speaking so close to you because it's so loud in here, but it doesn't stop your pulse from ticking at the shock. 

"Don't really know how.”

"Shit reason. C'mon."

Joel throws back the rest of his drink and drags you onto the dance floor. You laugh as he spins you, both of you almost knocking into an older couple who are taking the dance very seriously. They shoot you both a nasty look and you and Joel have to work hard to muffle your laughter. 

"You're gonna get us kicked out!"

"Nah," Joel shakes his head, spinning you again but closer to him. "I'm too charmin’."

"You think pretty highly of yourself don't you?"

Joel shrugs, laughing as the song ends. Another quick one begins and Joel looks serious. 

"I'm gonna teach you some moves Shawn's mom taught me."

"Okay."

You're surprised, he doesn't really mention Shawn's mother very often. 

You watch as Joel attempts to teach you some simple dance moves. You don't know if it's the stuffy club, the drinks running through your veins or the fact that you're dancing with your boyfriend's dad, but you can't really focus on the steps.

"I give up," you moan after the fifth failed attempt at a two-step. 

"You ain't a quitter," Joel assures you, trying to spin you slowly so you can get your footing. 

You never realized that Joel was such a good dancer. Watching him move his tall body is strangely hypnotizing, mainly because you never expected a man that broad and muscular to move so fluidly. 

"Atta girl," he says proudly when you get some of the footing correct. 

You smirk when you see the women nearby watching him, shooting him smiles. But his focus is on you, teaching you the moves and assuring you: it's alright darlin', we'll get you there just take your time. 

You're having so much fun with him you barely realize that an hour has gone by and you can only tell when you realize the back of your neck is damp with sweat. 

You're about to announce your heading back to the unit when the beat slows and many trickle off the dance floor. It's a slow song, and only the couples remain in the glowing dance floor. 

You go to step off when you feel Joel spin you again, back into his arms. You smile breathlessly up at him, the two of you shiny from perspiration from the dancing and the warm crowded space. 

Joel is looking at you strangely, his eyes luminous in the reflection of the twinkling club lights. When he slides a hand at your lower back and urges your hands around his neck you don't hesitate. You lace your fingers there, shifting from foot to foot.

You feel strange to be dancing with Joel. And not because he makes you feel uncomfortable, it's the opposite, actually. You feel almost too comfortable. Joel’s eyes are trailing over your face, sometimes highlighted by the flash of the DJ’s lights.

“You talked to Shawn about all that’s botherin’ you and this rough patch?” Joel asks out of nowhere.

He looks vulnerable; unlike the Joel you know who is all smiles and jokes.

“Kinda,” you say shyly, looking over his shoulder. “It’s just hard. . . We can both get pretty defensive. Plus, I wonder if I’m maybe being unfair. He’s in school and everything.”

“Uh huh, and you started that museum job didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty demanding job, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Joel gives you a look as he rocks you both from side to side

“Can I say somethin’ you might not wanna hear?”

You nod.

“In my experience, it takes two people to make a relationship. Not one puttin’ in all the effort while the other one has his or her head in the sand.”  

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. The song ends and Joel releases his hands you’re your waist before he announces he has to hit the washroom. You head to the bar for a glass of water and to wait for him. 

"Hi beautiful." 

An Australian man around Joel's age with a moustache is leaning against the bar next to you. His eyes are bleary and red-rimmed, his cheeks ruddy. He’s obviously very drunk. You give a forced smile before going back to wait for your water.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks," you answer quickly. "Just getting water." 

"How about a dance then?"

"I'm good," you say forcing a polite smile. You’re facing away from him, eyes on the bartender hoping he notices you.  

"C'mon beautiful," the man insists, eyes sliding over your chest in a very obvious way. "I'm a good dancer too. Could give you lots of lessons." 

"She said no."

Joel's voice is there, having clearly come back from the bathroom. You step backwards and before you know it Joel is sliding his arm protectively around you.  You glance up to see Joel's face contorted into a mask of fury. His teeth are bared like some wild animal and he grips you tightly to him. 

"Sorry man," The guy says holding his hands up in surrender towards Joel. "Didn't know she was taken." 

Joel sneers before leading you out of the club. The cool air is a welcome reprieve when you step outside, breathing deeply. 

"That place is nothin' but perverts," Joel growls as the two of you make your way back along the beach in the direction of your unit. 

"Joel,  you were there," you say giggling. "That make you a pervert?"

"Ha ha."

You walk quietly along the shoreline, confused as to how you can feel this good when just an hour ago it felt like everything was falling apart. Maybe it’s the drink in your veins, maybe its Hawaii, or maybe it’s just Joel.

"Watch it--"

Joel takes your hand when you stumble over a rock in the semi darkness. You let him, not dropping it even when your walking evens out. It feels nice to walk hand in hand with him, it feels safe. He doesn't let go of your hand either as you continue along, your shoes making dual footprints in the sand. 

"Thanks for in there," you say. “I hate creepy guys like that.”

"Was nothin'," he says, then he drops your hand after a moment. "Shawn would have done the same."

"No, he wouldn't have." 

It slips out before you can stop yourself. Joel stops in the sand, his concern there in his face. It’s clear that what you’ve said has upset him.

"What?"

"He doesn't like confrontation, you know that," you say with a shrug. "And I like that about him."

"You do?" Joel challenges. "Really?" 

"Sometimes." 

Honestly you’ve never enjoyed the men who start fights for no reason, who act like cavemen when someone looks at their girlfriend. Shawn is too smart for that, too above it to engage with assholes like that. But you have to admit that there was a part of you that found Joel’s actions inside the club to be a bit attractive. Is that the word? Would you really call your boyfriend’s father attractive?

You look at him standing there, his grey t-shirt clinging to his muscles and wide shoulders, the muscular thighs in denim and you think, fuck, yeah he is attractive. You knew he wasn’t ugly, you’d just never looked at him like that. Like he was a man outside of being Shawn’s dad.

"I come from a time when you take care of what's yours." Joel runs a hand through his messy curls. "If you were mine I wouldn't let anyone talk to you the way that man did, let alone touch you." 

If you were mine. 

You can't understand why but you're nipples tighten under your dress at those words. The possessiveness in Joel's voice is so dark and husky. He’s looking off into the dark like he’s really upset.

"If I was yours," you murmur. 

His glazed eyes move from the beach over to your face. You’re standing so close to one another and you can see his chest rising and falling quickly as he breathes. His scotch-coated breath huffs over your cheeks and you swear you’re getting drunker just inhaling it.

You must be, because why else would you be putting your hands on his shoulders. Why else would you be pressing your mouth to his? Why else would you be tracing his plush lips with your tongue and whimpering when he groans into your parted mouth?

And he must be drunk because he doesn’t pull away or hesitate. He dips his head and his hands wrap around your waist, bringing your body against him tightly. His palms slide over your skin, desperate to touch you everywhere as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You welcome it, going gooey in his arms, allowing him to take what he wants from you.   

He’s so fucking broad, so strong, so masculine. You gasp into his mouth when he grips your ass with his big hands, pulling your hips against his, circling them as he kisses you. You feel his hardened cock through the layers of fabric, straining against the zipper of his jeans, desperate to bury itself in your slick heat.

To be desired like this feels powerful. It feels like years since Shawn wanted you like this much. It makes you lean more into Joel, desperate to keep the sensation going. His hands are sliding under your dress, up your silken thigh and you tremble.

A splash sounds nearby in the water, a fish or something startling you both and you simultaneously break apart. You both take a step back from one another in the sand, eyes wide. Joel looks completely crazed.

“The fuck—what are we doin’?” Joel whispers, the regret clear in both your faces.

You bring your trembling hands to your warm cheeks and tears immediately spring to your waterline.

What have you just done?

“Oh my fuck, no no, I don’t – I don’t know why-“

You bend at the waist, hands braced on your knees as you start to hyperventilate. Joel is pacing up and down the sand, his silhouette barely seen in the darkness of night. You can see his feet pacing back and forth. . . back and forth . . . He stops when you let out a hiccup, on the verge of throwing up.

“Honey stop,” Joel says, a hand on your back, rubbing gently along your spine. “Calm down. Calm down, its okay.”

“I don’t know why I did that,” you say, tears streaming down your face and dropping into the sand below. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“S’not your fault,” Joel says, his voice even and calm. It makes you feel calm. And yet, guilt still bubbles up in your lungs, making a small sob escape.

 “I have to—you need to—I need to tell Shawn. Right now.”

“Hold on,” Joel says roughly, gripping you by the shoulder and urging you to stand. He peers into your face with a grim expression.

“You cannot tell Shawn anythin’.”

“I have to,” you whine.

“It’ll just hurt him,” Joel insists, nodding and hoping you’ll do the same. “It was a mistake. It was nothing, it was just the booze. We just drank too much and we were all hopped up on that asshole inside the club and we weren’t thinkin’.”

“Right,” you agree, relief sliding through every vein you possess as he lays it out for you. “That’s totally what it was. The drinking. We’re drunk.”

“Completely.”

“Okay. Good.”

You’re still shaken up by what just happened, still tipsy from the drinks. Joel runs an anxious hand through his curls, looking utterly wrecked.

“Let’s go back.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way back in silence. You still cannot believe what you did. You kissed your boyfriend’s father. You kissed him and he kissed you back. Fuck, you both must be utterly wasted. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll both forget it even happened. You would welcome the hangover from hell if it could erase the last fifteen minutes from both your minds for good.

Joel tugs open the sliding glass door, not able to look at you as you both pad towards the opposing doors. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel staring at you as you enter the bedroom where his son sleeps. You give him a sorrowful smile before closing the door.

You crawl under the covers, thankful that Shawn is asleep. You slip off the dress, your hair wild from dancing, your skin sticky with sweat, and your mouth still tasting of scotch. Your cunt flutters at the memory of the noises he made.

You roll onto your side, trying to drift to sleep. Shawn, still half-slumbering snuggles up against your back. His arm slips over your waist and he holds you, as he often holds you back home, gentle and tender and full of love.

“I’m sorry about before, babe,” he murmurs into your hair.

You feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You blink rapidly, closing your eyes and trying to swallow the guilt.

You know that Joel is in his bed right now similarly afflicted, thinking about how he did something so unforgivable and to his own son. Joel is the kindest dad you know; he loves his son more than anything. You know that what you both just did was awful and disgusting.

You also know that there is something deeply wrong with you because as you lay there in Shawn’s arms your pussy floods with memories of his father’s mouth on yours still vivid in your mind.  

do you guys want more of this? or should it be a one-shot? also trying a new aesthetic what do we tthink?

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 (𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖!!) ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR HUSBAND!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (extra credit fic for prof geto series) (can be read as a standalone!!)

✧ summary: you visit your family at home, spending the night in your childhood room, and after teasing suguru all morning, your husband decides he can't wait a moment longer to have you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader was a grad student (now a professor), but age is vague, childhood room sex, semi-exhibitionism, fingering (f! receiving) sex (p in v), creampie, discussion of having kids, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / polariae

✧ w/c: 2,395

“So this is your childhood room?” Suguru enters your room, glancing around, lips curling at the plushes and posters lining your shelves and walls, a collection of memories of a you he didn’t know, but one that grew into the person that he loved. He could see the pieces of you scattered about the room — and his eyes found the bookshelf tucked into the corner of the room. 

“Yeah we’ll be staying here during our visit,” you sigh, setting down your bag, before sitting on the edge of the bed, “they set up the air mattress for you but I think we can share my twin bed,” 

He tilted his head, “I suppose if I don’t mind curling up or letting my feet dangle,” and you press yourself to his side. 

“But it’s all worth it to have your wife by your side right?” His lips can’t help but curl widely at the title 

“I feel I have to remind you that you have been my wife for two years now and you can’t keep using that card,” and yet his arms slip around your middle, “but I can’t complain when I have such a pretty wife,” 

“Just pretty?” You’re climbing onto his lap, not missing the way his body tensed deliciously at your weight,  a slight pout on your lips, “come on, Professor, you can do better than that,” 

“You’re right,” his hand drag down your sides, squeezing at your hips, “beautiful,” he kisses the swell of your cheek, “ethereal,” his lips trail to the tip of your nose, “brilliant,” his lips chart a course down your jaw, “achingly desirable,” and you’re cupping his cheek. 

“Sure you’re not describing yourself?” And he’s snorting, right as you press a kiss to his lips, and you realize it’s been far too long since you’ve kissed him last, almost two hours in fact from the time the two of you had sat down to dinner with your family — and that was an eternity you didn’t want to relive. 

And neither did he from the way he kissed you again and again and again. 

“I’d never describe anyone but my wife like that,” he murmurs, “and how can you compare me, a mere human, to a goddess?” 

And your laugh is swallowed by his lips again, until he’s retreating his kisses down your jaw and neck, “and how do you plan to please your goddess?” 

His teeth graze the soft skin of your neck, drawing a small gasp from your lips, his fingers slipping under the t-shirt you had stolen from him this morning to wear on the ride over, “Oh the way I always do,” a rumble rasp of a voice that makes heat spread from his touch, “by worshiping every inch of her, offering my praises on my knees, and giving myself to her at the altar,” 

“We already had our business done at the altar,” and he laughs, shaking his head, fingers finding yours to lace with his. 

“Every day I’ll marry you over and over, Princess, if that means you’ll be mine,” 

“I think I was yours from the moment you told me I was late,” 

“If that means I was the object of your hatred,” and you chuckle, your other hand finding purchase on his shoulder, as you lean closer to him, noses bumping. 

“Well, some say hatred is a thin line to love,” 

“Then ours might as well have been non-existent,” and his lips find yours again, eroding your quick reply with the warmth of his touch flooding your every sense. Hands slide down your sides, squeezing teasingly, as his lips curl as he muffle your delightful noises, “because I think I was in love with you from the moment I saw you too,” he parts your lips only to speak, and to see the ruins he had left your perfect lips in, puffy and bitten red. 

“Even when I pestered you with questions about my papers,” he drags his thumb down your lips, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Especially then,” and it’s not a second before your lips find his again, sliding against his own, and he’s becoming unsatisfied with only your kisses, even he wants to have every inch of you — as he always does. 

He’s pressing you against your creaky mattress, springs groaning under your combined weight, and nearly screaming as the two of you shifted into place, “Sugu, we can’t,” you murmur, “someone could hear us,” 

And it was late at this point — a late dinner needed after they got in after 11:00 PM, and everyone had gone to bed, but still, the other rooms were only a door or two down. But still his lips are insistent, peppering kisses along your collarbone, as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. 

“We can be quiet,” he murmurs, in your ear, “I’ll go slow, no one will hear,” and he didn’t hide his need well, not that he was trying to — he had desperate for you since you had stolen that shirt of his, so much so that the two of you nearly ended up leaving late, since he had pinned you to the entryway wall right beside the door. You had convinced him to wait, slipping from his grasp, despite your already crumbling defenses to the hot embrace of his need. 

And you were far too gone by the dulcet words murmured in your ear, erasing all forms of logical thoughts from your brain, “fuck,” you murmur under your breath, “if we get caught—“ 

And his fingers are already slipping under your shirt, a gasp parting with lips as he finds bare skin underneath, warming you with his touch, as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “what will happen if we get caught? Will you punish me sweetheart?” His words are hot against your skin, lips grazing the shell of your ear, before pressing a sweet kiss against the soft spot behind it, “I’d like that, so would it be much of a punishment at all?” And he squeezes at your soft flesh before dragging his hand downwards to the button of your jeans. 

“Sugu—“ you warn, and he’s undoing the button of your jeans deftly, tugging them down around your ankles, and it’s only a moment before his thumb teases you through your drenched fabric, “ngh, don’t tease me—“ 

“How can I not when it’s so easy to do, sweetheart?” And his other palm drags down your waist to the swell of your hip and tugs at the elastic of your lacy panties snapping it against your skin, another yelp escaping your lips, “you always make such pretty noises, wife,” and the term makes your cunt ache for him, and it doesn’t go unnoticed, lips pressed to your neck curling in a smirk, “like it when I call you my wife? Because you are. My perfect, pretty wife,” 

And he presses closer to you, hips flush against your ass, as you feel his bulge rub against you through the fabric of his slacks, “I need more,” you whine, and his chuckle makes you shiver. 

“So eager, as always,” his fingers drag your underwear down to join your pants, “even when I’m about to fuck you in your childhood bed,” he circles  he sinks a finger into your needy cunt, swallowing it whole as he swallows the moan that leaves you with his lips, “can’t be too eager baby, I have to loosen you up first,” 

He slowly finger fucks you, the wet squelch so loud in the quiet silence of your bedroom, you would beg him to stop if you didn’t want more — and from the way your juices dripped down his knuckles to his wrists, your cunt wanted more too. 

“Such a good girl f’me,” he murmurs, “I think your parents really like me, the model son-in-law,” he adds another finger, but your walls only beg him to stay as he pumps them in and out, “but what would they think if they heard me fuck you open like this?” 

And he only wishes he could see your face, he knows from the telltale flutter of your walls, you’re growing close to release, and he could see your lovely lips parted for him, eyes blown out in pleasure or squeezed shut, and your face the epitome of ecstasy — but the soft pants that left your lips were good enough. 

“Sugu, I’m close—“ and you’re only whining louder when he pulls his fingers from you, your body arching into his, desparate for his touch, for friction, for anything — but he only licks his fingers clean with a pop, “fuck, please—“ 

You hear fabric rustle until you feel him tease your dripping entrance with the tip of his leaking cock, “Want it that bad, sweetheart? Need to cum?” And you know his lips are curled in that annoyingly smug smirk of his, “a little frustrated?” 

And you know he was toying you, if only to repay you for this morning with this delicious torture — your husband was a brilliant man, but as cruel with his touch as he was with his red pen. 

“Baby,” you cry, and he’s clicking his tongue, “please—“ 

“Don’t be so loud, someone could hear us, remember?” And your cunt is begging, warmth trying to welcome him even as he pulls his tip away, “would you like that? Can you be quiet for me?” And you’re nodding, a whimper leaving your throat, and finally he sinks into you, inch by inch as his fingers drag down your tongue, “good girl,”

“Sugu,” he filled you so well, stretching your cunt with his girth and sending delicious pleasure up your spine, pulsing inside as it dragged inside your sweet walls, “need more—“ 

And he begins to rock into you, bed squeaking traitorously as his hands drag down your front, as the slaps of your skin filled the silence of the room, and your eyes squeezed shut as if that would help you keep this dirty secret in the midst of the night. 

“Wonder if you ever thought you’d fuck your husband on this bed one day,” he kisses your neck, drawing the back of your fingers against your cheek, as his dick missed placed he only wished he could reach with his tongue, wet warmth beckoning him deeper and deeper, “if we’d make a baby in the very bed you spent growing up into the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known,” and fuck, he wasn’t making it easier to stay quiet, loud whimpers and moans muffled against his fingers that your spit dripped down of. 

And then you hear a door creak nearby, and he freezes, the moan of the floorboards as someone walked by making you tense, your pussy a vice grip around his cock, and he couldn’t resist fucking you. His hips piston against you harshly, and you nearly bite his fingers as a gasp works your way from your leaping chest. 

“Careful, baby, someone might hear us, hear you whining and begging for me to fuck you harder, and how would that look? A wife so needy for her husband’s cock?” And he’s snapping his hips rougher making it nearly impossible for you to stay quiet as he no longer cares who hears — as long as he can make you both cum. 

You’re pulling his fingers from your mouth, “s’close, Sugu, I can’t—“ and god, it’s nearly enough for him to cum then and there, but no, no, he has to make you cum first — need to feel your juices drench his cock before he cums inside. 

He’s reaching down, right where his cock is thrusting inside to rub at your needy clit, “cum on my cock, sweetheart, need to feel your pretty pussy cum—“ 

And you do as he says with a cry of his name that he muffled with his lips, fucking you hard through your orgasm, the sounds white noise to you both now — the wet squelch of your cunt was too much, too good, and his balls tense, all too ready to cum. 

You part from his lips only to whisper between gasps, “Cum inside, Suguru, fill me, please,” and your words send over the edge with you, notching his cock deep, as he finally comes undone, hot release painting your walls white, as he moans your name in your ear. 

He’s fucking his cum deeper as his hips stutter against you, slowing, as he finally stills, the bed ceasing its groaning as both of your quiet pants fill the silence. Bodies sticky, he pulls out of you, groaning as he watches his cum spill from inside you, as he grabs a towel from his nearby suitcase to clean the both of you up. 

He presses sweet kisses to your neck, “you okay baby?” 

And he knows you’re pouting even before you start speaking, “If anything heard us, I’ll—“ 

He laughs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “You’ll what? You love me too much to hurt me,” 

“I do, but I can tease you myself, as you know, far better than you can,” you turn to face him, your lips ghosting over his jaw while your fingers drew circles on his chest, “student has far surpassed her teacher on that front,” 

“On every front,” and you roll your eyes, “I mean it, Princess,” 

“I know you do,” you murmur, “which is why I guess you’re so desperate to have a baby with me,” and he flushes, and not from exertion, gaze shying away, “but lucky for you, I am too,” and his eyes snap to yours. 

“You—“ 

“We’ve discussed it before, Suguru,” your fingers trace his jaw, nuzzling his cheek, “we’re settled in our careers now, we bought our house. We’ve been married for two years now — do you want to?” 

His eyes shine impossibly, even in the dim moonlight filtering in from the window, “there’s nothing I want more than to have kids with you, Princess, but are you sure? It’s a much bigger decision for you than for me, it’s your body,” 

“But it’s our child,” you smile, “and I know you’ll be making it up to me for the rest of our lives,” 

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to ever make it up to you for everything you do for me,” Suguru presses his forehead to yours, “but I’ll spend my whole life trying.” 

✧ a/n: ahhh i've teased this fic for so long, it makes me so happy to write this!!! honestly i've had horrible writer's block and writing these two are always so easy and such a joy for me :). i hope you guys enjoy <3

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri i , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03 , @sugurora