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freedomfireflies · 10 months

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Outlawed*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Knockout*

The one where Harry just wants to fight, and you just want to love him.

Word Count: 10k (folks...we made it!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blood, violence, brief use of a knife, pain kink, size kink

“Cherry?”

Instantly, your head lifts. The familiarly warm nickname sewing up the frayed seams of your heart and sending it into a tizzy.

However, instead of the handsome stranger you’ve come to miss, you find Owen. Eyebrow raised and expression curious.

With a quick clear of your throat, you pull your attention back. “What?”

“Cherry,” he repeats, nodding now toward the pastry in front of you. “Is it cherry tonight?”

You look down as well. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yup.”

“Hm.” His lips press together in thought. “I like the cherry. The way you make it, it’s…it’s sweet. But just a bit sour.”

“Yup...”

“It’s very good.”

“Thanks.”

His hands disappear into his pockets with a short nod of his head. “I know the customers really like it, too. Get comments about it all the time.”

“That’s good.”

“You could probably make it every night. If you wanted.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s a bit of a tense lull now as you continue rolling the dough, and you notice Owen begin to shift just out of your peripheral. He doesn’t normally hover when you’re working, not unless he’s got something he’d like to talk about, and his lingering glances make your insides begin to itch.

So, you raise a brow, and look over. “Is something…wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, not at all,” he stammers. “I just…wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling.”

Curious, you straighten up.“Oh…why?”

“Well, I’ve just noticed how quiet you’ve been,” he explains. “And I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just…trying to get my work done.”

He steps closer. “I noticed your friend hasn’t been coming around as much. The sullen one, with the dark clothes and broody temper?”

And despite everything else, you can’t help but smile at the memories. “Oh, yeah, well…I don’t think he’ll be coming by anymore. Don’t worry.”

“Ah.” A brief pause. “Is it because of Jesse?”

Instantly, you lean back, pulling the rolling pin away from the counter in surprise. “What?”

“Jesse. The other boy who was in here,” he says. “The tall, snobby one in the fancy clothes? Kind of annoying?”

“I…yeah.” Your lashes flutter. “I guess, I mean. They don’t really…get along. But…it’s probably my fault, too.”

He hums to himself almost contemplatively. “You’re not back with him, are you? The Jesse one?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“I just…I don’t like him,” he sighs, arms crossing over his apron. “I think he’s trouble, and truth be told, you don’t always look that happy when he’s around.”

And you know he’s right, although you are a little surprised that he noticed. “Oh…well, no. No, not at all.”

“Good. Good.” He nods again. “Honestly, you can do a lot better than him, darling. Especially considering everything else he’s involved in.”

Now slightly more startled, your head tilts. “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know,” he begins, moving even closer before lowering his voice. “I don’t want to talk out of turn, and I certainly don’t want to scare you, but…I imagine you already know a little of what he really does, yeah?”

And even though you should know better than to answer, and even though you have Harry’s stern voice ringing in your ear not to trust him…you nod.

“Right, well…I know how much trouble that might put you in,” he continues. “And I know that with the fighting, and the betting, and the outsourcing…I’d hate to see you get dragged down with him—”

“Wait, what? What outsourcing?”

After a quick glance around the rather empty kitchen, Owen sighs, and murmurs, “Look, I don’t know everything, but a few months ago, he approached me with a proposal. He explained about the fights, and about the betting, and said that I’d be making easy money. That it was a guaranteed win because his fighter never lost.”

And suddenly, the image of Harry in that ring – night after night, hit after hit – paints itself across the forefront of your mind. You lose your breath, chest constricting with the thought of all the pain he endures at Jesse’s hand.

“And from what I could tell, he was taking the betting outside of the fights,” he explains. “I don’t know where or to how many other people, but he was pretty confident. And truth be told, I started to wonder if he’d maybe rigged it.”

“Rigged it? How?”

He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. Maybe he was paying the other fighter to lose or maybe he was paying his fighter extra to make sure he always won. Either way, I said no, and he took his business elsewhere. I think he was afraid of getting caught.”

And it makes sense. Every little detail clicking into place as you recall that night at the match. Jesse’s threat and his insistence on Harry’s win. Harry’s refusal not to play his game.

You straighten up. “Right.”

“Look, I just…I don’t want to see you get dragged down with him,” Owen finishes softly. “You’re a good kid, and he’s…you can do better. You can do a lot better than him, and I hope you know that.”

And you do now.

“Thanks,” you murmur before placing the rolling pin down. “I know this is a bit last minute, but is there any way I might be able to leave early today? I think I need to go find him.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He checks his watch. “Joshua’s supposed to be coming in soon. I could have him cover for you if you’d like to leave now.”

“Really? Would that be all right?”

“Sure. The pies probably won’t be as good as when you make ‘em, but…” He throws you a smile and you laugh. “Do what you need to do. And if you need any help, just give me a call, okay, darling?”

Nodding quickly, you wipe your hands down the front of your apron before ripping it off. “Of course. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

You’re out the diner door in under two minutes, nearly sprinting to your car as you work out a plan.

You’re almost positive that outside betting goes against the league’s rules (although you wonder if an illegal, underground fighting society even has any rules at all). But especially if it means Jesse ends up making more money on each fight than anyone else actually involved. The fighters included.

And if Jesse truly doesn’t want anyone else to know, you might have just found your loophole. A way to get him out of the picture and still keep Harry safe.

You aren’t sure where to start. Truth be told, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. But perhaps you don’t have to say much. Perhaps you only need Jesse to know that you know, and he’ll take care of the rest.

You head for the one place you know he might be. Your heart aches to call Harry, but without an address, a last name, or a phone number, you don’t really have very many options. You can only hope that he��ll find you once this is all over.

When you finally make it into the darker part of town, your pulse begins to pound. Slamming against the sides of your ribcage as you pull up to the familiar building and park. Right beside the only other car in the lot.

It’s not until you step out that you realize who it is.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse calls with a devious smirk, exiting his vehicle as well. “What a surprise, sugarplum. Come to watch tonight’s big fight?”

You take in a brave breath and begin toward him. “No. I’m here to talk to you.”

His brow raises, but he seems relaxed. In fact, far too relaxed for your liking. “I see. And can I assume this has something to do with your little boytoy?”

“Not quite. But it does have to do with you.”

“Ah.” He grins to himself before dramatically gesturing toward the warehouse. “Then, by all means.”

So, with a shallow exhale, you oblige, trailing after him and toward the front door just as you did the other night. It’s an eerie deja-vu.

And perhaps you should feel a bit more nervous than you do, but deep down, you know him. You know that he’s lacking any real emotion or regret, and maybe, that might just give you an edge.

After typing in the passcode, he leads you inside. The once glorious space now dark and empty. Sporting nothing but the large boxing ring and the stunning chandelier.

“I’ve gotta be honest, sugarplum, I don’t know what you said to him…but it worked,” he begins as you both walk further into the room. “I’ve never seen him fight like that before.”

You purse your lips together in an effort to resist screaming at him. “Well, that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is.” He stops near the ring and turns around, leaning on it as he studies you. “And I knew you’d come through.”

“Great. So, you’ll leave him alone now, right?”

“As long as he wins, sure.”

“You mean, as long as he makes you money.”

His arms cross now, and that smug expression makes you want to slug him. “As long as he does what he gets paid to do, then there won’t be a problem.”

“Right. And as long as you can keep outsourcing the bets.”

For the first time, he hesitates, that arrogant grin slipping ever-so-slightly as he raises his chin. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I stutter?” You step closer, and you notice him tense. “The money that you outsource to other bettors. The money that you make – that Harry makes you – on these fights every time he wins.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“No? You wanna bet on that?”

And you don't think you've ever seen him so livid. Not even on his worst night when you were together, and your insides begin to wrench.

But before he can reply – before he can really do anything – a door opens. Allowing a rather bright stream of light into the warehouse as you and Jesse both reach up to shield your eyes.

And then...you see him.

Harry.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s really looking at, but you catch the exact second he realizes. The way his face contorts and his fingers curl into his fist.

And you want to explain, want to take back everything you said and tell him the truth, but he’s already speaking up before you can.

“What the fuck is this?” he calls, and it’s so very angry. But he’s not talking to you.

He’s talking to Jesse.

Jesse merely rolls his shoulders back, attempting to settle back into his condescending façade. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“No?” He scoffs. It’s bitter and full of disdain. “Because anything you fucking say to her concerns me.”

Your heart skips.

Jesse, however, merely snorts to himself before glancing at you. “It’s a wonder you manage to get anything done on your own.”

Harry instantly strides closer, and you suddenly feel safer. Relieved to be near him again and desperate to feel him. To wrap yourself in his arms and never let go. To make things right.

But not once does he look in your direction. Instead keeping his focus on the man near the mat as he approaches. “Don’t fucking speak to her that way,” he nearly growls. “In fact, don’t speak to her at all.”

“Or what, hm?” The haughty cadence is back. “Do you really think you have any power outside of this ring?”

“I think I can knock your fucking teeth down your throat anywhere I goddamn please.”

“How incredibly barbaric.” Jesse’s brow cocks upwards. “Is he like this when he fucks, too?”

This question is directed at you, and no sooner has it left his mouth does Harry suddenly surge forward, grab him by the collar, and slam him back into the ring.

You gasp – or maybe you scream – before Harry removes one hand in order to send it flying straight into Jesse’s nose.

Blood is everywhere. Dripping from Jesse’s mouth, smeared across Harry’s knuckles, splattered along the concrete floor.

And you want to intervene. Want to do anything that might make you feel a little less useless, but Harry is delivering the second blow before you can decide.

“You fucking—” Punch. “—piece—” Punch. “—of shit.” Each comment is swimming in vile contempt, his expression livid and incensed.

You’ve never seen him this outraged. Didn’t even know a person could hold this much resentment, but it sends chills down your spine.

“Harry,” you murmur, taking a tentative step closer. “Harry, wait—”

“After everything you’ve fucking taken from me,” he sneers in Jesse’s face, “you wanna take her, too?”

Jesse’s only response is to suck in a large gasp for air that becomes gargled by the blood in his throat, and you feel sick.

“Harry,” you try again, grasping onto his other arm in an effort to tug him back. “Harry, wait, there’s another way—"

He brushes you off almost too easily. “And now—” Another hit, this time to Jesse’s stomach. “—you think she can save you? You think you can use her to get what you fucking want?”

He sends his busted knuckles straight into Jesse’s teeth, and your insides twist.

“Harry, stop,” you plead, yanking on him a bit harder. “I found another way, okay, please—”

“You fucking think…I’m gonna let you use her?” he seethes before pulling his arm back for the next hit. “You’re out of your goddamn mind—”

Without much thought, you suddenly rush around him, and place your hands on his chest. Wedging yourself between the two just before he can land the next strike to Jesse’s jaw.

It’s stupid and it’s impulsive and it’s rash, but it works. And it’s the only thing that seems to pull him back from that treacherous edge as his eyes find yours and his arm instantly drops.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you in days, and you want to cry. Because he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. Void of any emotion or understanding except for the realization that he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Harry,” you whisper, and his name cracks from your throat. “Harry, please, I…I found another way. Okay? He…you don’t have to do this—”

“I know. I want to,” he replies, still rather hostile.

“But I don’t want you to,” you argue. “Okay, I think we can get out of this. There’s a way to get him out—”

“I don’t want a way. I want to fucking kill him.”

“Harry, you…” You suck in a quick breath and move closer, nearly gluing yourself to his tense frame. “He’s outsourcing the bets. He’s stealing money from the fights, okay, and we can get him out.”

He looks surprised for all of a minute before the look suddenly vanishes and he attempts to brush you away. “I don’t care. He deserves this.”

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, “if you do this, they’ll kill you. Okay, and I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you—”

His features soften, although he still begins to push past you. “You’ll be all right—”

“Stop, just listen—"

“Cherry,” he warns now, “get out of the way.”

“Harry, please, don’t do this. You can’t do this—"

“I don’t care. Move—”

“Harry—”

“Cherry, move—”

“I love you.”

He stops. Seems to freeze right where he stands, but you barrel on. Clutching onto his dark, familiar hoodie as though trying to grab at his heart.

“I love you,” you repeat in a strained whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I lied, I…I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was helping, or…or doing what was best, but it wasn’t – I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. Blinks. Doesn’t move.

“And I love you.” You suck in a shaky breath as the tears fight their way to your waterline. “I love you so much it makes my chest hurt, and I can’t lose you, and…and please. Please don’t do this.”

And you’ve never felt so vulnerable or afraid. And not because of his silence, but because you’ve never loved anybody the way you love him. And you’ll understand if he no longer feels the same or if he’s changed his mind. If he wants to punish you for your lie or for your attempt to say it now.

Instead…he moves to rest his hands over yours. Keeping them over his heart before dipping down…and kissing you.

And it fixes everything. Absolutely everything. Because it’s perfect and familiar and so incredibly Harry.

And you’ve missed him.

You feel an arm slowly snaking around your lower stomach, and you begin to smirk against his lips before you realize who the arm really belongs to.

It yanks you back, ripping you away from the man you love until you’re cemented against Jesse’s chest.

Something cold and sharp is settled against your throat, and you take in a quick gasp for air.

Harry attempts to remain calm as he’s forced to watch, but you can see the edges of his sanity coming loose. Jaw clenching, teeth gritting, brows furrowing. His shoulders are tense beneath his sweatshirt, his hands are balling into fists, and his head is cocking to the side like he’s debating whether or not to lunge.

Jesse merely laughs in your ear. “This is so fucking pathetic. And so goddamn cliché, sugarplum. Is this really what you want? Him?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, and Harry takes a brave step forward. But almost instantly, the blade of the knife begins to press further into the soft skin of your throat, immediately forcing Harry back with a dark scowl.

“Easy,” Jesse warns as you both go still. “Come on, now, I think you both know better than that.”

“Jess,” you pant, reaching for his wrist. “Jesse, please—”

“It’s so simple,” he continues, ignoring your attempt. “So fucking simple. Just win the match. Win the goddamn match and you get to go home."

“I don’t fucking care. Let her go,” Harry seethes. “This isn’t about her—”

“Except that it is.” Jesse’s smirk widens. “Of course it is. You wanted to leave to protect her, so you will stay to protect her. You made it about her, dear Harold. I’m only following your lead.”

Something shifts now in Harry’s expression, and it nearly ruins you. He looks…lost. So very lost and helpless. Like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do without you.

Jesse presses his nose to the side of your cheek, and you feel the warm blood smear across your skin. “So, if you wanna take this away from me, then I have no problem returning the favor.”

The knife is pulled taut to the curve of your throat, and you hiss, making Harry’s face pale.

And when his eyes finally flitter to yours, you realize what you have to do.

“Harry,” you whisper, nodding once. Subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man behind you before you smile gently. “It’s okay.”

You’re not sure he truly understands, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. He will soon.

So, you slowly lift your arm until you can bend your elbow, only to send it flying straight back into Jesse’s stomach.

It’s not enough to really harm him. In fact, it’s hardly enough to even surprise him, but it does distract him just enough to loosen his grip on the knife. Giving you the room you need to spin around in his hold and deliver your fist to his face.

The shock of the blow seems to do more than the strike itself. But he goes stumbling back, nevertheless, and the moment his arm has dropped from your waist, Harry steps forward and rips the knife from his hand.

Once it’s in his possession, he grabs onto your wrist, and wrangles you behind him.

“Don’t ever…” he begins, stepping closer until the tip of the sharp blade can rest just beneath Jesse’s jaw, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

Jesse says nothing. He merely stares through his swollen eyelids and bloodstained lashes.

“You’re no longer Harry’s sponsor,” you add. “And you’re no longer a part of the league. Do whatever you have to do to get out. Or we’ll do it for you.”

Harry smirks, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so smug.

When Jesse doesn’t answer, the weapon is nudged further into his bruised skin, forcing him to suck in a sharp breath as he finally grits, “Fine.”

Satisfied with his response, Harry lowers the knife, and steps back just far enough to let Jesse slip by. And the two of you watch as he stumbles toward the door without a single glance before disappearing into the parking lot.

Leaving you both behind.

The moment he’s gone, Harry turns to you, wraps his arms around your waist, and hoists you into the air. Keeping you snug in his embrace while you squeal and fling your arms around his neck for stability.

“Oh, that’s my fucking girl,” he nearly groans, and you laugh. “M’so goddamn proud of you, baby. Never seen something so fucking hot.”

You dip down until you can nuzzle your nose with his. “Well, I learned from the best.”

“Yeah? Good.” His grin nearly splits his face. “Can I please take you home now?”

And you nod so quickly, you’re nearly dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, easy. Easy, sweet girl, deep breath. I’ve got you, yeah? Know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon.”

With a sharp exhale, you motion your head up and down, allowing Harry to pull your hand closer in order to continue dabbing the alcohol swab over the torn skin of your knuckles.

His tiny bathroom falls quiet as you sit on the edge of the sink. Him between your legs, attention trained on your bruise. And while the sensation is rather uncomfortable, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so cared for. So…fulfilled and secure.

And you realize, this is how you were always meant to feel.

With him.

“It’s gonna sting for a bit, but I’m almost done,” he promises, eyes softening when he sees your pained wince. “You’re being so good for me, Cherry, I’m so proud of you.”

You pout and it makes him chuckle. “You made it look so easy.”

“S’cause it wasn’t my first time.” He reaches for the gauze. “And we already know how I feel about pain.”

With a smirk of your own, you jut your chin toward him. “Yeah? And how are you feeling now?”

“Now?” His expression is wicked as he now leans just close enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Now…I feel fucking insatiable.”

You waste no time kissing him. In succumbing to his games and his endless teasing. You kiss him, and you don’t care if that means he wins, because you’ve never needed anyone or anything more.

And he’s so entertained by your desperation. His own bandaged hand finding your cheek as you sigh against his tongue and settle into this moment of adoration.

When he pulls back, you’re winded.

He goes back to work dressing your knuckles, wrapping the white gauze around and around until your torn skin is thoroughly protected.

And you watch him as he does this. As he sweeps his thumb gently along the ridges of your hand before bringing it to his mouth in order to leave yet another kiss.

“There,” he murmurs, trailing his lips across the fibers. “All better.”

It’s the most beautiful and romantic thing you think anyone has ever done for you, and your heart lodges in your throat. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“…do you hate me?”

Surprised, he instantly straightens up and leans back. “What?”

“Do you…do you hate me? Because of what I did? What I said?” You attempt to ward off the influx of impending tears, but you can already feel the first one slipping free. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

His expression immediately drops as he reaches up to grasp onto your face once more. Thumbs brushing quickly along your warm skin as you sniffle. “Cherry…I could never hate you. Ever.”

“But maybe you should,” you whisper. “I hurt you, and I lied to you, and…and I don’t deserve you—”

“Baby,” he breathes, surging forward to press his forehead to yours in an effort to silence you. “Don’t ever fucking say that again, do you hear me? I know exactly why you did it, and I could never be mad at you for that. I was only hurt because I didn’t want to lose you. But you were only trying to protect me. I know that.”

“I said I didn’t love you,” you nearly croak. “I said I loved him. After everything you’ve done for me—”

“You had to,” he interrupts, and his understanding only hurts more. “Cherry, you had to. It was the only way, and I know that. I knew it then, too. You’ve only ever tried to protect me, and I wasn’t letting you.”

You grab onto his wrists and vow to never let go.

“And it’s not fair that you were put in that position,” he continues. “It’s not fair that you were forced to make that call, and it’s not fair that I dragged you into this. You were expected to choose between somebody you’ve known your entire life and somebody you just met. That’s not fair, and I never should have made you—”

“It wasn’t a choice,” you hiccup. “It was never a choice. It was always you.”

Those pretty pink lips pull back into the softest grin you’ve ever seen. “You were trying to save me, sweet girl. I know that, and I will never, ever hate you. I love you.”

I love you. The three best words you could ever hear, and your first sob wracks from your chest as you fling your arms around his neck to kiss him.

He kisses you back, but it’s soft. And sweet. And meant to convey exactly how he truly feels.

And it works because this is all you’ve ever wanted. Just him, and this moment, and those three words.

“Easy,” he warns through a strained breath. “Baby, careful—”

“Please,” is all you pant. “Harry, please, I can’t…I can’t wait any longer, please.”

And he nearly coos with amusement as he nuzzles his nose under your jaw in order to paint more kisses along your throat. “Can’t wait, hm? But what if I want to make this special?”

“It is. Is special—”

“Cherry,” he chuckles, “it’s all right. M’not going anywhere. We don’t have to rush, all right? S’been a long day and I don’t expect anything—”

“But I do,” you huff. “I’m ready, I want to. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

He laughs a little louder now, leaning back in order to see you. “I’m just trying to take care of you, sweet girl. We didn’t wait this long to throw it away because of him. I want this to be good for you. I want you to be sure that this is really what you want.”

And you appreciate the sentiment more than you’ll ever be able to explain. But right now, there is only one true way you want to spend the rest of this horrid day.

So, you lift your leg and hook it around his hip, pulling him back between your thighs with a pleading look.

In turn, he smirks, fingers returning to your chin with a playful squeeze. “Thought I was the insatiable one.”

“We’ll take turns,” you exhale before surging forward to kiss him again. Capturing his lips between your own and savoring the feeling you never thought you’d feel again.

And you can see his resolve crumble. Can see the way his eyes fall shut, the way his chest rises and falls beneath his dark shirt, the way his hands grasp onto your waist to keep you close.

He’s hungry. Ravenous. Losing the fight before it even begins, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Because now – now – he can have you. He can give you exactly what you want, can be exactly who he wants to be for you.

“Where do you wanna be, baby?” he asks through teasing nips to your neck. “The bed? The couch? D’you wanna go back to your apartment? Might feel more comfortable for you—”

“No, I don’t care,” you interrupt anxiously. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

He grins against your throat. “My greedy girl,” he murmurs, and your stomach flips. “Let’s go to the bed, yeah? Wanna lay you out and see you.”

And you want nothing more than to let him.

Regretfully, he pulls his lips from your skin and steps away, and you feel like you might die without him. But he’s quick to remedy this by taking your hand in order to help you hop down from the sink. Leading you out of the bathroom and through his apartment toward the bedroom.

His apartment isn’t what you expected. Although, truth be told, you didn’t know what to expect. It’s a bit bigger than yours, but there’s something…empty about it. Hollow, almost. The furniture is scarce, the colors and décor are few and far between. It doesn’t even look like anybody lives here, something he pointed out the moment you entered.

“Hardly spend any time here,” he’d said as you glanced around. “S’just a place to sleep, really. It’s never really felt like a home…until you walked through the door.”

And it was wildly cheesy, and perhaps a bit lame, but it was everything.

His bedroom doesn’t seem to be any different as he leads you inside. The walls are a dark grey, and his bedding is a similarly dark shade. He’s got one chair and one dresser. It’s quite clean, all things considered. No clothes lying on the floor or towels slung over the closet door.

It’s so very…Harry.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as your eyes flicker about the room. “Know it’s not very romantic.”

But you merely grin as you shake your head and grasp onto his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You drag him toward the mattress before plopping down rather contently. “It’s so you. And I love that.”

And he only smiles before chasing after you and wrangling you into his arms.

It’s a faster dance from there. His hands and lips are everywhere they can reach. Slipping up the backs of your legs, ghosting over the curve of your hips, pulling at the zipper on your dress.

You merely settle in his embrace and allow him to take whatever he’d like. To touch and kiss each lingering thought away until all you know is him.

He’s careful but practiced. Treating you with the same adoration and gentle precision as he always has. And you’re so very thankful to feel so safe in his arms. A kind of security you weren’t sure you’d ever find in a partner the way you have him.

With anyone else you’ve ever been with, sex has always been transactional. A means to an end. This thing that you do to get off and nothing more. And despite your submissive preferences, there have been times when you truly felt powerless to your partner. Simply…there. Until they decided they no longer needed you.

But Harry…

He looks at you like your body is sacred. Like he’s undeserving of being so close to you. Of getting to touch you, hold you, feel you. Completely in-tune to every noise you make and every flutter of your lashes. Constantly on guard for your enjoyment and consent so he never goes any further than you want him to.

But you know, undoubtedly, that no matter how far he goes…it’ll never be enough.

You want his everything. His all. Anything he’s willing to offer, and you imagine you feel about as grateful as he looks to be here with him like this. To witness this kind of tender reverence.

He settles onto his back and pulls you on top. Placing you in a straddle over his waist until he can gaze up at you. “You okay, Cherry?”

You nod quickly – breathlessly – before resting your hands on his chest to brace yourself. “Just excited.”

His smile is boyish and charming, showcasing that familiar dimple that makes your cheeks warm. “Good. Want you to be.” He rubs soft circles into your hip before his brows furrow. “Y’know what I just realized?”

“Hm?”

“I still don’t know your name.”

And despite it all…you laugh. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

You smirk. “I still want to be your Cherry.”

He chuckles as he squeezes your sides and drags you closer. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs as you dip down to kiss him. “Always.”

With a soft smile, you trail your lips from his cheek to his ear, whispering the forbidden name almost timidly.

And to your surprise, he only grins wider. “That’s beautiful, sweet girl. S’perfect, too. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You feel the blood rush to your face as you bury your lips against his throat and gently tug at his skin. “Okay, all right.”

“I mean it,” he insists, palm slipping around the back of your neck to tug you back out. “Cherry, you’re beautiful. I don’t say it to say it. I look at you…and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

And maybe they are just words. Maybe they’re meant to make your insides twist and make your heart swoon. To be romantic and suave.

But you believe him. Because you can see in his eye just how much he means it. Can feel it in your stomach that he’s never been as honest as he is right now.

Further proving that everything in your life…has led you to him. Every decision, every regret, every mistake. It brought you right here, to this moment, in his arms.

You don’t waste any time on replies or longing looks. You kiss him, and you resume this frantic dance, and you beg him to make things better. To ease this ache in your stomach as well as your heart.

So, he does.

Nimble fingers pull at the zipper along your side, loosening your uniform until he can guide it up and over your head. Only stopping once to whisper, “S’this okay, baby? Can I see you?”

You nod almost impatiently. “Yes, yeah. Whatever you want, promise.”

“Hm. Careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he hums warningly. “Or I might just take you up on that.”

The moment your frame is revealed to him, he nearly groans. Allowing his hands to smooth up and down your shivering silhouette as you anxiously wait for more.

However, instead of allowing him the time to indulge in your body, you begin to tug at his sweatshirt. Silently requesting he reveal himself to you, too.

He smirks. “All right, hold on.”

He barely has a chance to sit up before you’re reaching for his hem in a desperate attempt to remove it. Making him chuckle as he grabs onto his collar before swiftly pulling it over his head.

And you nearly sigh. Because he’s so ethereal to look at. Every ridge, and tattoo, and scar. The way he breathes, the way he flexes. You can’t help but reach for him, skimming your fingers down the dips and curves of his toned chest and stomach almost reverently as a breath catches in your throat.

And he lets you. Studying you closely while you study your hand. A moment of silence passing before he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hm?”

He reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “M’gonna have to stretch you a bit before we start, okay? Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” you answer almost too quickly. “That’s fine. I’m not worried.”

He seems amused. “I know you’re not, but I am. You know I’d never want to hurt you. And I just want to make sure we go at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

There’s an odd sort of fluttering in your chest as you scoot closer and slip your fingers into the curls on his neck. Stroking his roots in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m okay with any pace as long as it’s you.”

“Promise?”

You nudge your nose against his. “Promise.”

Finally, he seems satisfied. “Okay, sweet girl. Then can you lay down for me?”

You’re on your back before he can even finish the question, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his and drag him along with you.

“Cherry,” he laughs again, and the sound is like music. An orchestra of joy and infatuation that you can feel all the way down in your toes. “Can’t be that greedy, can you?”

“I can,” you pant, hips bucking up as he reaches for the silk around your waist. “Just please…”

“Please,” he repeats thoughtfully, pulling his focus to the material he’s slipping down your legs. “You really are my sweet girl, hm?”

Another nod. “Mhm.”

“Guess I have made you wait, yeah?” He discards of the delicate panties before smoothing his palm up the inside of your thigh. “Made you sit and be good?”

“Harry…”

“And you have been,” he muses, ignoring your mewling. “Been so good for me. Think I need to show you how proud I am. And apologize for being so mean to you. For making you go so long without.”

He moves to settle between your parted legs, one hand beside your head to brace himself while the other travels down the expanse of your stomach. Calming the trembling skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reaches what he’s looking for.

He looks at your face first. Examines your expression and the flutter of your lashes. Stilling just long enough to listen to you breathe. “It’s okay, Cher. I’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his hair and smile. “I know.”

His thumb is the first thing that finds you. Ghosting gently over your clit and down in order to prepare you. Ease you into the sensation.

You take in a satisfied inhale that melts into a whimper and he grins.

Pushing through your folds, he slows when he finds your arousal. Glancing down to see it for himself. “So warm, baby. Missed this.”

“Missed you,” you nearly whine, and he seems pleased.

The tip of his digit pushes in just far enough to tease you but not enough to satiate you. Leaving a rather hollow feeling in your stomach the moment he pulls back out.

You just about slump into the mattress. “Harry…”

“M’just trying to be gentle,” he says. “And I wanna take my time. Wanna really feel you. Remember this moment.”

Your heart swells. “How oddly sentimental of you.”

He shrugs before pushing the finger back inside. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

Your back instantly arches from the bed when he reaches his knuckle. And the gratified look he wears seems to worsen this untamable ache.

“There you go,” he coos. “See? One’s not so bad.”

His pace is slow to begin. Torturous in a sense, but he knows that. He wants to work you up, make you squirm. Have your pleas falling from your tongue like water from the sky.

And of course it works, it always does. You weren’t sure what else you expected, but as he continues this steady rhythm, you feel your sanity slowly begin to come undone until you only have one choice.

“Harry…Harry, please, can’t…can’t—”

“What, sweet girl? Need more?”

Your head quickly motions up and down. “Please…”

“All right.” He pulls back before going again, this time with a stretch a bit more prominent. “Know you can handle two, yeah?”

And he’s right, you can, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t nearly ruin you to do so. Because while two is decidedly much better than one, it’s still not nearly enough. And more importantly, it’s not the one thing you really need.

You pull harder on his hair while you writhe beneath him. Eyelids growing heavy as the sound of his fingers driving into your pussy grows louder. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” He dips down and trails his lips along your cheek. “Gotta let me do this, baby. Just a bit longer, yeah?”

“Can’t…can’t wait—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone is firm but kind. Encouraging. “Know you can. Let me make you feel good.”

He begins to go faster. Thrusting into your cunt until your pulse is racing at about the same speed.

And he’s beautiful. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it makes you dizzy. Hovered over you on the bed, muscles flexing with each roll of his arm. There’s a soft glow behind his head from the light of his window, illuminating his curls like a halo.

It’s rather fitting, you realize. After all, he is your guardian angel.

“Breathe,” he instructs, kissing down the curve of your throat before finding your chest. “Almost done, yeah? Doing so good for me, look so pretty taking my fingers. Know you’re gonna be so beautiful taking my cock, hm?”

Again, he dangles the image right in front of you, only to take it away before it can fully render. “Har—”

“Shh,” he says again, mouthing at the swell of your breast that’s being pushed up out of your bra. “Gonna give you another. Want you to be still for me, okay?”

With a rather disappointed huff, you oblige, watching as he scoots back just far enough to get a better visual.

Three fingers brings you to the gates of heaven. As does that look in his eye when he sees the way your pussy stretches around the larger digits.

You can quite literally see the groan leave his body as he stares at you, lips parting in mesmerized bliss.

“You okay?” he manages to ask through a strained exhale.

“Yes,” you pant. “Can take more, I promise.”

“More, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please…”

He only hums.

Seconds go by before you’re gasping for air. Nails scraping down his scalp in desperation as he works you open. He’s incredibly focused, proud of the work he’s doing, and of the way your body bends to his will.

“There we go,” he praises softly. “Just like that. So fucking wet, sweet girl. Know it must ache.”

“It does…it does, Harry, please—”

“Got an itch you can’t scratch, yeah? Need me to reach it for you. Need me to fix it.”

“Please…”

“Almost, baby, almost.”

You feel the fourth begin to push in and you suck in a sharp breath.

He stops. “It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “Gonna take me like a good girl. Already doing so good, just a little more. Relax for me.”

You do your best to obey, allowing your limbs to fall limp beside you, despite the tightening of the coil in your stomach.

Even still, it works just enough to allow him more room. Slipping in the added digit until you see stars.

The pumping is loud and driven. Truly an exercise in restraint – for both of you – as the pace begins to quicken and the noises begin to increase.

Then, he brings his other hand into play, and brushes his thumb over your clit.

And you don’t mean to – you didn’t even realize you were so close – but you cum suddenly and with a rather lewd moan that makes his eyelids flutter.

“There,” he whispers, as though entranced. “There we go, good fucking girl.”

You can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs as you come down. And Harry chooses not to help as he finally removes both hands…and begins to pull you apart.

He exposes your clit to the colder air in order to dip down and ghost his mouth across the top. Releasing a warmer breath that sends chills straight down to your toes, making you squirm rather violently.

“Har…Har—” you gasp, fisting the blanket below. “Please, can’t…can’t—”

“Just wanna look at it,” he says simply. “S’so pretty—”

“Harry,” you whimper, writhing beneath his hold. “Harry, this is mean.”

“Mean, hm?” He smirks now and you want to die. “Well, I don’t wanna be mean, baby. Wanna be good for you, just like you are for me.”

You choose to take this as a sign to continue, sitting up just enough to reach for his belt and begin to tug it undone.

He laughs now, glancing down at your frantic fumbling with a knowing grin. “Cherry—”

“No,” you huff. “No, it’s my turn.”

To your surprise, he only hums. “Go ahead, then.”

You do, yanking the belt through each loop before tossing it aside and moving for his zipper. You don’t imagine you’ve ever worked so fast or so hard for something (specifically a cock) in your life.

The moment he’s able to wrangle his dark jeans down his legs, you’re dragging him back down. Ignoring his protests and his reminder that he still has one article of clothing left.

Instead, you work on ridding yourself of your own, unhooking your bra and tossing it into the same pile as his boxers.

And now, as you both settle into your nakedness together, every imperfection on display, you realize you’ve never been more content. Because baring your heart to him was far more vulnerable than baring your skin.

And because this is where you were always meant to be.

“Okay, baby, m’gonna start slow,” he repeats yet again, and you nod. “Just tell me if you want me to stop or slow down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nearly whine. “I will, I swear.”

“Good. And…shit, a condom, do you…do you have a preference—”

“Pill,” you pant. “I’m on the pill, just go.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes, please. I need to feel you, Harry, please…please.”

“Okay, all right.” He takes hold of your hips and positions you where he wants you before settling between your thighs. “Deep breath, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, I’ve got you.”

Another nod – quicker, more frenzied.

He takes hold of his cock and your eyes nearly roll back. It looks so beautiful in his hand. Just as stunning as you remember, and even though you never imagined you’d find one so appealing, your mouth seems to water.

Your leg hooks around his hip, subtly urging him closer, and he obliges. Giving himself a tug or two before gently trailing the tip down your aching cunt.

He moves up and down to collect a bit of your arousal before he finds your hole and slowly begins to push inside. Sinking in about half an inch before checking with you.

You nearly scream. “It’s okay. It’s okay, keep going.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes.”

His mouth curls up into a knowing grin as he continues. Allowing his cock to slip even further into your waiting pussy while your walls slowly stretch open to accommodate him.

And you’re hardly afforded the chance to enjoy this newer sensation before he suddenly dips down to kiss you. Perhaps an attempt at distraction, although it’s hardly needed. Because now you aren’t sure what to focus on, what feeling to indulge in. From his lips, to his cock, to the way your stomach nearly caves in on itself.

“Fucking shit, baby,” he groans against your tongue. “Shit, you’re so tight…feels so good—”

“I know,” you agree. “God, please don’t stop—”

“No. Never.” He sinks in a bit further and you dig your teeth into his bottom lip. “M’almost there, you still all right?”

“Yes…yeah, I’m perfect. Perfect, promise—”

“That’s my girl,” he nearly seethes before he suddenly drives forward, sheathing himself all the way.

You both still the moment he’s fully inside, his face now disappearing into your shoulder as though to brace himself.

And you wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt not to let go. Allowing your body the time it needs to understand this new intrusion and find pleasure with it.

When it finally happens, the stars align.

“Okay,” you pant, gently scratching at his back to garner his attention. “Okay, go.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Need more, Har, please.”

He pulls his hips back and the whimper you release is almost feral. But it seems to do wonders for him, because his expression twists into something desperate, and you feel your chest implode.

He settles into a soft, slow pace. In and out, in and out, in synchronicity with your eager pants for more.

And there’s too much happening all at once. Too much to watch, too much to take pleasure in.

The curls that drip down his forehead, the way his body looks as it connects with yours, the feel of his mouth going down your chest.

He’s everywhere all at once and somehow, it’s still not enough.

“Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Could taste you forever.”

He takes your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking at the pebbled skin before nipping at it gently.

You keen, arching from the bed until you nearly knock into him. “Har—”

He hums around your nipple, and you almost cry with frustration and pleasure.

Everything feels slow. Almost too slow but there’s something tender there. He’s not trying to fuck you, he’s trying to feel you. To mold your body to his and it’s rather effective. Because the way you crave him feels like heaven and hell all in the same second.

“Harry,” you whisper, practically deranged as you drag your hands down his chest. Nails tracing patterns down the tattoos across his abdomen. “Please…”

The noise he makes in response to your scratching is almost animalistic in nature, and you nearly flinch as you quickly lower your arms. Upset to have caused him any pain.

“No,” he groans, lifting up to nudge his nose under your jaw. “No, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“What?”

“Keep…shit—” His rhythm falters and you can almost feel the way his dick seems to twitch. “Keep going, s’okay. Want you to scratch me. Want you to hurt me, baby.”

And somehow, this reminder of his pain kink feels almost like a blessing. “Yeah?”

He nods faintly before attempting to resume his pace, and you happily take the lead.

Your fingers hesitantly return to his broad torso. Delicately tracing the muscles as they roll beneath your touch until you gingerly begin to press in. The sharp edge of your nails dancing across the expanse of his already torn skin.

In turn, he releases a strained noise that becomes lost beneath the grateful kisses to your collarbone. And you realize how much he truly enjoys it.

He gives you complete control of his body, of his pleasure. Because the harder you scratch at his scars, the more urgent his thrusts become. Until the sounds echoing around the room begin to echo between your ears. And the slapping of his hips into yours is inescapable.

“Feels so good, Har,” you nearly cry, lifting up just enough to kiss him quickly. “You’re so good to me. Always.”

“Shit.” His eyes about roll back before there’s a sharp snap of his cock into your eager cunt. “Always gonna take care of you. Promise—”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know, I love you.”

You say it now, and suddenly, everything changes.

It doesn’t matter if he’s heard you say it before or if he already knows because the look in his eye nearly guts you.

He’s so…happy. So incredibly happy and endlessly enchanted that he begins to grin. “You love me,” he repeats. Not a question.

You smile as well, and the sentiment seems to explode out of you. “I love you.”

And it’s perfect, this moment. This connection of two bodies and two souls into one. The way you stumbled through the dark until you found each other, and it makes sense. Everything makes sense now with him. Clarity in the truest form.

“I love you,” he echoes, and he means it. You can feel it in every thrust, every syllable, every brush of his lips against yours. “I fucking love you, Cherry—”

“Please,” you gasp, leg dropping to the bed while your arms follow suit. “Har, please—”

“Gonna cum for me again?” He begins to go faster, chasing after your orgasm. “Let me feel you around my cock, sweet girl, come on. Already feel so good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Can’t what, hm? Can’t hold it?” It’s almost sadistic the way he speaks, but you know he’s merely enamored. “I know. I know, it’s okay. You can cum for me, don’t have to wait. Promise I won’t be mad.”

You aren’t sure what you’re about to do, all you know is that you never want this feeling to end. This moment, this security. You just want to touch him, and look at him, and taste him for the rest of your life.

He interrupts your silence as a request for something more, and he offers it in the form of his dominance.

He takes hold of your wrist and hoists it above your head, pinning it to the mattress before settling his weight atop your chest. Trapping you beneath him until you have no other choice but to indulge in everything he has to give.

And you do.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine, isn’t it?” he purrs, teeth nipping below your ear as his fingers intertwine with yours. Holding your hand as he keeps it caged to the bed. “Spent all this time just waiting for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes…yes, fuck, Harry—”

“You were so patient. So good.” He’s growing more determined – sloppy – and your head begins to spin. “God, but you just needed me, yeah? Needed me to make it better—”

“Better,” you repeat almost mindlessly.

“Needed me to erase him—”

“Please—”

“Leave my mark. My fucking mark—”

“Harry—”

“You were never his,” he grits, and you aren’t sure who he’s really trying to convince. “You were never fucking his, you were always mine. And he knew it—”

“Shit, I can’t…can’t—"

His other thumb moves for your clit and you feel tears fill your eyes. “Yes, you can. Know you can, baby, and you will. Always do so good for me, gonna take my cum, aren’t you—”

There’s a strain on your muscles from the way they’re being stretched above your head, but you realize there’s something satisfying about the subtle pull. And when it’s coupled with a firm pinch of the sensitive nerves between the rough pads of his fingers, you start to lose it.

“There – shit – there you go,” he inhales, glancing over your face before watching the way his cock slips in and out of your pussy. Dripping in your arousal and smearing across your thighs. “Take me, just like that. Feels so fucking good, sweet girl, keep going…keep—”

You cry out and writhe helplessly beneath him. Pulling your arms from out of his hold in order to sling them around his neck and cement yourself to his chest.

And you have no choice but to succumb to the pleasure before you feel him follow.

“Fuck—” He surges forward, burying himself in you completely, moans melting into your feverish skin as you cling to each other. “Shit…I love you. I really fucking love you, Cherry.”

You smile lazily before bringing his mouth to yours. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you. All through the moment and then some. Until the sun has disappeared and the moon has been hung between the stars.

And you know that you have never been happier than you are in this moment, right now.

Just you, and him, and a pussy full of cum.

“Darling, we've got some at table six, could you go check on ‘em?”

With a quick nod of your head, you readjust your apron, and grab the notepad Owen is sliding toward you before slipping from the kitchen.

You find the eager customers waiting just beside the counter and take their order with a charming grin and a promise to slip them some leftover pie.

The diner isn’t too busy tonight, and you’re grateful. Now that you’re on dessert duty, you spend a majority of your shifts working on new recipes and finalizing the specials for the coming week.

Truth be told, you rather enjoy this new task. It keeps your mind occupied and your thoughts from drifting.

And baking is your happy place. Your sense of calm amidst a sea of uncertainty, almost rivaling your own true source of serenity.

Harry.

Once you’ve returned to the kitchen, you sneak a glance at the clock. 12:06 A.M. He should be here soon. Probably tired. Perhaps a bit stressed. Hopefully no worse for wear than usual.

Fight nights always tend to leave you on edge. You know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but you can’t help but worry. It’s what you do best.

Still, you’re happy for him. Because while pies are your happy place, the boxing ring is his. He’s only ever wanted to fight – to make money, channel his anger into something good. And perhaps it’s not a sustainable lifestyle, but for right now, it’s what he wants to do.

And you respect his choice. You’ll respect any choice he makes, as long as he’s the one making it. Instead of it being made for him.

Besides, without Jesse there, you find that Harry tends to have a lot more fun. He leaves the fights with a busted lip but a bright smile, and it makes your heart swell until it feels as though there’s no more room in your chest.

Last you heard, Jesse left town. Harry refused to tell you what really went down at the club once the other members found out, but you decided that was probably for the best. No matter what fond memories you still have of your childhood friend, he’s not who he used to be. And you won’t ever be able to change that.

But for the first time in a long time…you’re okay with that.

The clock continues to tick the seconds away, and with each passing one, you grow a tad more anxious. Your guardian angel is late. At least by a few minutes, and you scurry about the diner as your thoughts race about a mile a moment.

And then, just as you’re readjusting the cake stands and tidying up the dessert display, you see it.

Your not-so-strange stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in that familiar, white gauze, and are stained with streaks of red.

But he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

And you grin wider than you have all day.

“Hi, Cherry,” he calls the moment his head lifts, allowing you a better look at his stunningly damaged face as you scurry closer. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you nearly giggle, slipping off your apron before sliding into the seat across from him. “How was it?”

“Easy,” he snorts, but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “And I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“M’off for the next few days. Thought you could come over…and not leave.”

You laugh as you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Good.” He glances down at your interlocked fingers almost fondly. “Hey, you know what I just realized?”

“What?”

Now, a mischievous expression begins to form. “I never introduced myself.”

And for some reason…you can’t help but laugh.

“So,” he begins, rather charmingly as he raises your hand in order to shake it formally, “hi.”

And you really fucking love him.

“I’m Harry Styles.”

I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT THE END!! This has been such a fun story, and SUCH a wild ride that I feel very lucky to have gotten to take with so many incredibly wonderful people!!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along and left the nicest comments or notes!! I cannot tell you what it means to me!!

Harry and Cherry will def be back for extras soon, but until then...I love you 🥹♥️ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Previous Part:

~ Uppercut*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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keisobe · 1 year

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౨ৎ ‧˚ 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐁 (𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 + 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚) ⋮ heavily suggestive. age difference. 18+ reader. cheating. ooc. ⎯ spiderdads love having you as their little intern.

recently receiving a spider watch after a year of your debut as spider-woman in your dimension, you made it your ultimate duty to live up to the expectations of your variant superiors. your forthcoming nature and free time was open to anyone, but you found yourself always being in the radar of peter and miguel.

it would start off with innocent requests.

“hey kid, is it fine if you could grab me some coffee?” peter would smile at your enthusiastic nod and hand you his ‘number one dad’ mug. by now you know peter’s order— steaming hot coffee with powdered creamer.

“kid, transfer these files to sector 3.” miguel wouldn’t even look at you, but you still flashed a grin and began to sprint through the bustling hallway. you also learned he liked the empanadas at the cafeteria.

and in exchange of completed requests, you’ve found yourself looped into their peculiar ways to regard your work.

“good girl.” peter’s voice was hushed and deep as he sweetly patted your head, taking a careful sip of his aromatic coffee with an attractive grin. he left you a little stunned after that, or more so a blushing mess. then you watched him go back into his usual ‘i’m a proud dad’ routine and attend to mayday back in his dimension.

“gracias cari– u-umm i mean thanks… kid.” miguel uncharacteristically fumbles his words as he finally darts his ruby eyes away from the glowing, holographic screens, looking into your eyes with actual acknowledgement of your presence. his gaze was intense, a sense of longing in them. then he abruptly dismisses you, leaving you with a sense of wonder as to what just happened as you exited his lab.

it was always a special occasion when the two of them would be together.

“kiddo, you free?” peter shouted as he waved you down in the midst of you finishing a small errand for jess.

you responded with a firm nod as you sent jess a brief message on your watch. the smile you wore slightly faltered at the sight of a weirdly unreadable miguel beside peter— eyes glittering with a shade of red that you’ve never seen before. it made you feel on edge. nonetheless, you approach the two with a determined glow on your face as you let them lead you with peter filling in the awkward silence with his little quips and sarcastic comments towards miguel.

at this point, you've been working for the spider society for three months now. the teasing remarks from the other spider-people toned down and you’re finally classified as a real agent, exclusively working alongside miguel, jessica, and peter. and even through the fantastic upbringings in your life, something has been eating at you— more correctly, two people have been making your life miserably complicated.

miguel was by far the most interesting person you’ve met. his past takes a toll on him every counting day and the integral goal he based his life around is to never repeat his one mistake. although he’s very calloused and irritable, you admired his ambition and the rare moments his cold demeanor would falter to reveal a huge dork (in no other dimension have you ever seen a grown man get bullied by his own ai). as much as miguel shared a huge part of himself to you, he seemed far more content with being completely alone and devoting his life to a vow he made that day his daughter and an entire universe was wiped from existence.

peter, sarcastic and careless in nature, recently became an attentive father. it was endearing to see, considering the various stories of his depressing upbringing would make your warm lunch turn ice cold and soggy within a minute into his sulky narration (you might’ve avoided spending your lunch breaks with him afterwards). and his rekindling love with mary-jane finally gave him a sense of comfort and relief of a normal, happy family life. peter gave you a sting of hope that things will somehow turn out okay in the end. it made you feel closer to him, until you remembered that he was just sharing some old, adult wisdom to you.

and that was fine with you. you can totally push aside your small crushes for peter and miguel. one was emotionally unavailable and one was in a stable relationship with a beautiful daughter. plus they were your bosses and twice your age. so why? why is that miguel would linger a little longer whenever you announced that you’ll be going back to your dimension? why is that peter’s brown eyes would brighten up whenever you held mayday lovingly in your arms?

it didn’t help when miguel would start to call you endearing pet names with a genuine smile on his face, or when peter would situate you on his lap as he nuzzle his nose into your neck just because ‘it felt comfortable’. this conundrum made you think that you were completely losing your damn mind, that somehow you were looking too deep into the lines. but you concluded it was just all a huge misunderstanding on your part.

yeah, that’s what it was.

“you have to be quiet, okay?”

peter mumbles in the shell of ear as he clumsily discards your tight spider suit in the corner of the room while miguel makes sure that all the doors are sealed shut and locked from prying eyes.

it was normal just a few minutes ago. peter ribbing miguel with his usual dry humor, and miguel ignoring his antics to tick him off while leading you both to what you presumed to be a private conference room to discuss the important matters of anomalies.

but when the three of you nearly approach the door, peter suddenly stops talking. cautiously looking around his surroundings, peter presses himself closer and subtly grinds his hips onto the softness of your ass while miguel’s lingering hand gropes the curve of your tits— his neutral expression completely taunting your shattering composure. this is where your actual conundrum begins.

the room continued to hiss as the electric engines faintly knocked on the metal walls. the dimmed lights that made your very inappropriate circumstances much more intimate than it should be.

the chiseled arch of miguel’s cheekbones brushed the plush skin of your spread thighs, his sharp canines eagerly leaving tender marks that were reserved for only the three of you to look at. each bite and suck left you weakly whimpering his name with growing anticipation.

it was lonely back in your dimension, your bed was cold without another body to warm it up. returning back to an empty apartment would elicit forbidden thoughts— ones that held you in a heated daze until you realize you’re dumbly standing in the middle of the room and shamelessly yearning to open another portal to be in the arms of peter and miguel.

god, this was so wrong.

“aw, do you want more kid?” peter teasingly asks as his stumble scrapes along your jawline, leaving marks of his own along the junction of your neck.

miguel gazed up at your troubled expression, an amused smirk dancing along the swell of your inner thighs.

morals, pay attention to your morals.

you nodded eagerly, a force of habit after attending to the various needs of your superiors, but miguel wouldn’t take that as an answer.

“you have to tell us cariño.” miguel grumbles in between his love bites— crimson eyes glowing under the dull light.

oh well.

“yes! please, i need more.”

peter and miguel muse at your neediness, swiftly changing their positions as they propped you comfortably on a table placed in the middle of the room. you flinched from the chilling contact, but you were immediately warmed up when both men knelt down— each hooking an arm around your quivering legs and indecently displaying you as they spread your limbs. they move like they were on the same wavelength, finally agreeing on one thing.

guilt pinged in your stomach once again when peter’s wedding band brushes against your skin and miguel’s spider watch brightly flashes with pilled voice memos urgently calling for his assistance.

obviously annoyed, miguel hastily pries off the pinging watch and puts it aside while peter eagerly tucks his wedding ring in the pocket of his discarded pink robe. weirdly, their visible desperation to have their attention focused on you filled you with pride.

finally, two pairs of eyes were trained on you, sparkling with a hypnotizing red and a drunken brown. their previous notions left no ounce of guilt, instead it made them hyper focused with lust.

“don’t worry querida,” miguel gruffly murmurs as he snags your underwear with a sharp finger. “peter and i will take good care of you.”

“but don’t tell anyone kiddo.” peter cuts in, a subtle grin on his face but through his playful tone, he was dead serious.

you compliantly nodded.

of course, you won’t tell a single soul.

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moni-logues · 2 years

Text

Haircut

Pairing: Boxer!JK x reader

Genre: pwp/smut but honestly it ends kind of cute uwu

Summary: Watching Jungkook work out, coupled with that new haircut, gets you so hot and bothered, you don't make it home before you have to do something about it

Word count: 2.5k

Content: car sex therefore sort of semi-public but they aren't seen, unprotected sex

A/N: so.... JK's live sent me insane and Jess said 'Thirteen Rounds drabble?' and now here we are. You don't actually have to have read Thirteen Rounds to read this but, honestly, I'd recommend it because I actually think it is quite good lmao. Y'all have this little bastard to thank for all of it 😂😂😂 and yes that is the picture I've chosen and I'm sticking with it!!!!!1

You leant on the doorframe, watching Jungkook train, still not over the novelty of being able to.

After a lot of soul-searching and debating and to-ing and fro-ing, he had decided to part ways with his now-former coach (you cheered only inwardly because you knew how hard a decision it had been for him). You liked his new coach; his new coach liked you. His new coach let you inside the gym; his new coach let you sit in on training.

You knew as well as JK did (and much better than his new coach did) that you would be a distraction if you sat and watched a whole session but sometimes you liked to show up just a little early when picking him up.

You watched him from the door as he grunted and whined his way through another set of inchworms. He looked about ready to collapse when his coach asked him for one more. He cried out and you giggled to yourself as he nevertheless walked forwards on his hands into a plank, panting noisily, groaning as he pushed himself back towards his toes. His T-shirt long abandoned at the side of the room, he was glistening with sweat, his muscles rippling as he worked. You couldn’t not think about his hand around your neck, the salty zing of his sweat when you kissed his skin, all those noises he was making now but making them only for you, only in the effort of fucking you like you wanted, like you needed. Like, he said, you deserved.

It gave you pause sometimes, how much, how badly you wanted him. Still. All the time. Your friends thought you were crazy, a horndog outlier on the normal distribution of sexual appetite which you had to admit seemed true, but you hadn’t been that way until you’d met Jungkook. No one had ever wanted you like he did, as much, as badly, as all the time as he did. He was all-in from day one. That’s just who he was: he gave all of himself to everything that he did; everything meant everything to him; he was burning up, all day and all night, an eternal fire of keen passion, of relentless energy, of an unstoppable drive.

And the way he fucked you. You couldn’t say no. Couldn’t turn it down. Couldn’t live without it. It was months ago now, that month off, that painfully long stretch of time without him, and you still felt like you were making up for it.

His coach finally told him it was over, he was finished, and he collapsed in a sweaty heap on the floor. He rolled onto his back, starfishing, his chest heaving, his hair in his face. It looked different. You knew he was getting it cut before training (a decision that made no sense to you, since it was now, already, dirty with sweat and whatever grime it was picking up from the floor). You couldn’t quite tell what it was going to look like.

He’d been growing it out. It was the longest you’d ever seen it. You liked it. Liked to run your fingers through it when you were trying to get to sleep at night. Liked to wrap it around your fingers when his head was between your legs. He liked that, too.

As he sat up, his back to you, you were relieved that he hadn’t taken any length off. That relief evaporated in an instant when, having put his T-shirt back on, he turned around and you saw what he had done.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered to yourself, swallowing hard.

Jungkook’s eyes widened when he saw you.

“Baby!” he cried, his arms thrown wide as he approached.

He wrapped you in a sweaty hug, holding you as tight as he could, rubbing his sweaty head over yours.

“Ew, stop it! Stop it!”

You swatted at him and he giggled, pulling back but not letting you go.

“You love it.”

You could only nod as you reached a hand up to brush over his hair, the front cut short above his eyes. He closed them and scrunched his nose; you saw a tiny blush creep onto his cheeks and you wanted to scream with how badly it made you want him, right there, right that second.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I-” you started and had to stop, clear your throat, tell your heart to slow its roll for a second. “Yes, Kookie, I like it. I like it a lot.”

You raised your eyebrows and bit your lip.

“You do?”

You had to look away, take a momentary break from his huge, sparkling, puppy-dog eyes, from his little hopeful smile and, fuck, that haircut. You tightened your grip on his shoulders.

“Yes, Jungkook, I do and if you don’t let me take you home right this second and show you how much I like it, I might literally die.”

He trailed a hand up your side, a sneaking smirk on his face.

“Is that right? You like it that much, huh?”

“Yes, now let’s go.”

He laughed and walked back for his bag, taking his sweet time, walking as slowly as he could, stopping to tie his shoelace.

“Jungkook!”

* * *

You sat at a red light, grateful that it was late, that it was dark, that people couldn’t see you, flushed and antsy, fidgeting in your seat as you tried not to break every single speed limit on your way home.

Jungkook was not helping. He hummed along with the radio with his hand on your thigh. Mostly just resting there, occasionally letting his fingers wander higher and higher. You wished you had worn jeans, or something thicker than leggings, so that when he gently dragged a finger over your aching core, you wouldn’t feel it so much, it wouldn’t make you squirm in your seat, your mouth wouldn’t drop open in a silent gasp, your clit wouldn’t throb.

“Jungkook,” you breathed.

“Yes, baby?” he replied, looking like butter wouldn’t melt.

“I mean it. I am literally going to die if you keep teasing me like this.”

Jungkook removed his hand from your crotch and hummed thoughtfully. He brought up the navigation on the screen and started punching in an address.

“Just follow this,” he said when he’d finished.

You’d have done anything he asked you at that point. The streets were familiar to you, but you couldn’t work out why Jungkook was taking you here. You pulled into the empty car park of a retail estate, the shops all closed hours ago, lights off.

“You have reached your destination,” intoned the satnav.

“Um, this is a car park.”

“Yeah, my love, go over there.”

He pointed towards a dark corner, where the streetlights didn’t quite reach. You manoeuvred the car into the space, put it into park, and turned the engine off. Jungkook unclipped your seatbelt as he unclipped his own and then he barrelled into the backseat. He patted his lap.

“Come here, you.”

Sex in the car wasn’t exactly what you’d had in mind but any inhibitions you might have had, any hesitations about fucking somewhere so public, where anyone could see were drowned out by the desperation you felt, the desire bordering on hysterical. You might have got out and fucked him against a shop window if you’d had to. But you were glad you didn’t have to.

You straddled Jungkook and took his face in your hands, not wasting a second more. You crashed your lips together and the spark ignited. You rolled your hips over his and gasped to feel him already hard beneath his trousers. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your open mouth, moaning as his hands disappeared inside your T-shirt. You were hot all over, shivering under his touch. He unclasped your bra and you ripped your top off, letting your bra fall with it. When he dipped his head to suck your nipple into his mouth, you whined, dizzy with need, shaking with it, your hips still rocking against his clothed length. It had been twelve hours since he was last there, beneath you, on top of you, inside you, but that might as well have been a lifetime. Your need eclipsed everything else. You weren’t thinking with your cunt; you weren’t thinking at all. You were aching, wanting, lusting, dripping. You were a siren screaming Jungkook’s name, wailing into the dark night for him and him alone.

“I need you, Kookie- fuck. Please. Fuck me.”

He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your leggings and tugged them down. You separated so you could pull them all the way off, so Jungkook could lift his hips and remove his trousers and boxers. You pushed him backwards, so he was lying on the backseat, and climbed back on. You took his cock, all heavy-heat and velvet-rigidity, leaking already—how much, how badly he always wanted you—and slid yourself along it, your arousal sticky-sweet and all over. He was coated in your juices, slick as you wrapped your hand around him and settled yourself over him, lodging the tip in your entrance.

Jungkooked hissed as you lowered yourself, his hands gripping your hips, his mouth falling open as you took him in, every inch. You sat, him full inside you, this pressure and pleasure spreading, aching in your cunt and your clit, your hips and your thighs, too. You couldn’t bear to move, didn’t want to lose this feeling, didn’t want the emptiness to return even for a second.

“You ok, baby?” he asked, tipping his head to look at you, cocking it to the side.

You nodded, eyes closed, one hand ghosting over your clit, not really touching, not really not.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I just want to stay like this for a bit.”

“Ok.”

He ran his hands down your thighs, back up to your hips, and you luxuriated in it. How he fit you, stretched you, felt made for you. The radiating heat and stickiness of his dried-sweat skin. The softness of his touch. The things he whispered to you, how you felt so good, how much he loved you, loved to fuck you. When he moved your hand aside and pressed his thumb against your clit, you jerked, the direct pressure suddenly too much when you had been craving it for so long. He lifted his thumb away and then returned it, slowly, gently, rubbing circles over you.

You cursed and tipped your head back, looking skyward, as you felt everything in you pull together, the tension white-hot, the pleasure barbed, the heat bubbling and roaring. Your hips began to move, your clit chasing his touch, your cunt fluttering around his cock. Jungkook groaned and he gripped your hip with one hand, stilling you so he could take over. He braced himself carefully, one foot on the seat, one on the floor, and directed you upwards, the drag of his dick against your walls enough to make you whine. Then he held you there, his tip still clutched inside, and began to thrust, hard and fast.

You scrabbled at the ceiling of the car for purchase, weak suddenly as he fucked into you; where he found the strength, you’d never know. He had not twenty minutes ago been collapsed on the gym floor; you knew you’d be collapsing soon if you couldn’t find something to grip, something to hold your body up. Jungkook pushed harder with his thumb, rubbing rougher circles now and you fell forward with a quiet cry, leaning heavily on his chest. He huffed and paused and you tried to catch your breath.

“Don’t stop, please.”

He chuckled breathlessly and held still, lazily tracing your nipple with his finger. You whined.

“Please. I’m literally begging you, Kookie. Don’t be mean.”

He didn’t answer except to slam into you, once, hard. Then he dragged himself slowly out and did it again. The new angle had him squeezing tight past your g-spot with every thrust. It had you seeing stars. It had you digging your nails into his shoulders. He kept at it, torturously slow, and you were begging, again, pleading with him for more.

“Kookie,” you cried, using all your strength to lift yourself up to look in his eyes.

They were black, sparkling, a galaxy of mischief as he sucked his lip ring into mouth and bit his bottom lip. You clenched tight as he dragged himself out and the smirk tugging at his lips fell, faltering. He whimpered softly, accidentally.

“See, Kookie? You want it, too. Please. Please. More. I need more. Oh- Fuck, please.”

Your fingers twisted around the hair at the nape of his neck and you tugged as your face fell into the crook of his neck. You pressed your lips against his salty skin, dragged your tongue up the column of his neck and felt him shiver beneath you. He groaned and then gripped you hard with both of his hands on your hips. He sped up. Faster and harder. Pistoning into you with gasping grunts of effort, his jaw tight, his hair sticking to his forehead. Yeses tumbled from your mouth. Yes and thank you and words that were no longer words, little moaned vowels and consonants stuck in your throat.

You slipped a hand between your bodies and picked up where Jungkook left off. Your cunt spasmed at the lightest touch on your clit and Jungkook’s grunt was broken and high-pitched as you squeezed him, vice-tight and slippery. Words and breath all strangled, tangled up in pleasure as you began to shake all over, Jungkook crying out loud, your name over and over again, how good you felt, how good you were, how close he was.

A rush of heat and gush of arousal. A twitching trembling in your legs. A shaking stuttering in your heart. A screaming, careening ecstasy. Rapture.

A numb, tingling weakness after a fusion of strength and force. A warm body, yours; a warm body, his. The ratatat-tat of your hearts against each other. The ocean rush of your breath, heaving, panting, gasping.

“So you really like my new haircut, huh, baby?”

You whined, feeling boneless and shivery but hot all over. You reached one hand up with a groan and tugged at a forelock.

“It’s dangerous, my little oreo. You are dangerously fucking sexy. I don’t know how we’re going to get home. I don’t even know how I’m going to get dressed. I can’t feel my legs.”

Jungkook kissed the top of your head and pulled his hands under his head with a satisfied sigh. He used to think you’d get tired of him, sick of him. Because everyone else did. No one could ever keep up, no one ever wanted anything as much as he did. Too much. He knew it was too much—he was too much. For everyone. They told him to stop and calm down and get over things, tone it down a little, take a breather. But not you. He was never too much for you. You always met him there. You kept wanting him, so much, so badly, even after all this time. He was never too much, for the first time in his life.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #boxer jungkook #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fic #jungkook

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thegettingbyp2 · 2 months

Note

Jess x Fem! Reader when it’s their first or second anniversary of being together and then just having loads of sex 😭

Happy Anniversary

Jess’ lips were leaving a trail of red marks down your neck, chest and stomach, leading to your panties. Smirking when he saw you buck your hips up to him slightly, he hooked the edge of your panties between his teeth, swiftly tugging them down your legs and off of your body where he threw them somewhere in the pile of clothes that were currently littering your bedroom floor.

‘You know you could have at least folded the clothes up instead of throwing them on my floor,’ you protested half-heartedly as Jess began to trail a line of soft kisses along your inner thighs.

‘You know that if I folded the clothes up instead of throwing them on your floor that we would be wasting the precious time we have for hot. Anniversary. Sex,’ Jess replied, punctuating the last few words with kisses closer and closer to your pussy before slowly sliding his tongue through your folds, humming with contentment.

You and Jess were celebrating your first anniversary together, despite your parents disapproval of Jess. They thought that he was a bad influence on you and didn’t want the two of you together. The only reason Jess was at yours tonight was because Luke was in the apartment he and Jess shared so you’d had to sneak him up to your room. Not the most ideal scenario for what Jess had planned for you, it just meant you were going to have to be quieter than he would have liked.

A cry left you as his lips wrapped around your clit as he began to suck softly. As soon as the sound was pulled from you, one of his hands quickly travelled up your body to clamp one of his hands across your mouth, muffling your moans. ‘If you can’t be quiet like a good girl, I’ll just have to make you quieter, won’t I?’ Jess said, trying and failing to mask his amusement.

‘Yes,’ you agreed breathlessly, bringing your arms up to wrap around Jess’ neck, using your grip to pull yourself up to press a kiss to his lips. ‘Please, Jess.’ Jess groaned against your lips as he reached down to line his cock at your entrance, teasing you. Every time you felt his tip nudge against your entrance, you tilted your hips, trying to pull him inside of you. ‘Jess, stop tea - oh!’

You were interrupted by the feeling of Jess pushing into you with one deep thrust. Jess’ hand once again clamped down on your mouth, your moan still too loud. ‘Shh, baby,’ Jess teased lightly as he began to rock into you, trying to stifle his own moans. ‘Should’ve booked a hotel,’ he groaned quietly.

‘In this town? Everyone would know what we were doing within 2 minutes,’ you replied, laughing softly.

‘I think you were speaking a little too easily there, baby,’ Jess said, smirking as he began to pick up his pace, thrusting into you harder until the only sounds that were leaving your lips were small whimpers and whines whenever he ground his hips against yours, brushing against your clit. ‘That sounds better, don’t you think, baby?’ he asked, grinning as he lowered his head to your neck, attaching his lips to your skin and adding to the many marks that were already littering your skin.

‘Jess, close,’ you whined, struggling to get your words out due to his hips pumping into yours.

‘Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?’ he asked, slowing his pace slightly and making sure to grind his cock against your spot with every thrust. One of his hands moved down as he rest his thumb on your clit, rubbing quick circles, making your legs tremble.

‘Kiss me,’ you whined, tugging him down as you let your orgasm wash over you. The feeling of your walls tightening around him had Jess groaning against your lips as his orgasm crashed into him at the same time. Once both of your breaths started to go back to normal, Jess slowly pulled out of you, a whimper passing your lips before he lay next to you on the bed.

‘You okay, baby?’ he asked, his hand coming up to thread through your hair, scratching your scalp gently, making your eyes flutter closed as a content smile crossed your lips.

‘I’m okay,’ you sighed happily, eyes still closed. ‘Just wish you didn’t have to go, want you to stay the night.’

‘I know,’ Jess sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to hover over you slightly. ‘I don’t want to go either but your parents would kill me and as much as I’d do anything for you, I’d prefer if we had a load of other anniversaries.’

‘You do?’ you asked, opening your eyes and looking at him with nothing but adoration.

‘I do. Many more anniversaries.’

#jess mariano #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano smut #jess mariano x reader #gilmore girls

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lovers-rck · 9 months

Text

bubble gum

summary ellie hids something in her notebook

content friends to lovers, ellie williams x fem!reader

☆

"do you want to see that movie that i told you about?"

you make a face, looking at the weird pink thing on the ceiling "is that gum?"

ellie follow your gaze and cringe "i don't know what you are talking about"

"that, on your ceiling"

"there's nothing in the ceiling" she says, avoiding your gaze and playing with her pen.

"yeah there is!" you replie "look there"

"maybe you are high"

"what? that makes zero... whatever"

ellie's face displays a victorious smile as she keeps drawing in her sketchbook "so... you want to see that movie? jesse told me that was super scary"

you were laying down in ellie's bed, outside was raining. you kept looking at the gum in the ceiling as you scrunched your nose "i don't know. im not in the mood for a scary movie"

ellie rolled her eyes. she had already seen the movie, but maybe if she pretended not to have seen it before to watch it with you maybe, just maybe, you would snuggle up to her in the scary parts. or whatever.

"pussy" she murmurs. her pencil traces long sketches on the rough paper

"you are so annoying" you say as you sit in the bed, finger brushing your hair "what are you drawing?"

ellie shakes her head "nothing" she is sitting at the head of the bed, with her back against the wall. some thread of hair are resting in her face, tickling her skin, and you have the urge to put those annoying locks behind her ear.

but you don't.

"let me see" you say

you crawl between the sheets, sitting across from ellie, who is holding the sketchbook strangely tightly.

"it's just doodles"

"okay" you replie "i want to see them"

"is shit"

"all your work is shit to you" you rolled your eyes "i never get to see your drawings"

"you are so noisy, has anyone ever told you that?" ellie says

you stick out your tongue playfully and when ellie laughs you grab her sketchbook quickly. ellie is quick too and lunges at you, your body getting pinned between the mattress and ellie's body.

you two become a jumble of wrestling arms and hands "give it back" ellie yells, half laughing half angry "no!" you scream, holding the sketchbook above your head "bitch!" you yell when ellie bites your shoulder

you hear ellie's laugh and take that opportunity to open the sketchbook above her head, where she can't reach in that position.

you always wanted to see what ellie did in that notebook, always curled up in the pages sketching something. you noticed how she always carried a pen and that notebook everywhere she goes, drawing something time to time.

so your surprise is genuine when you go through the pages and find various drawings of you.

you laughing with jesse. you with some dogs. you and that stupid frog stuffed animal she gave you. you smiling. and the most recent sketch, half way finished; you laying down in her bed, just like you were a couple minutes ago.

the drawings are beautiful, quickly but really good studies of you. if you squint your eyes a bit, you can see where she erased some lines to redraw them more accurately.

you flinch when ellie's hand interrupt your surprise by grabbing and closing the notebook. she moves away from you and you sit down.

ellie is sitting a couple inches away from you, avoiding your gaze and hugging that sketchbook like a kid hugging her favorite toy.

your lack of words was not exactly due to the drawings. you knew that this was normal and that ellie used to draw people she knew, you were in moments where she decided to walk away and draw the moment, immortalizing it on paper.

your lack of words was due to what the scribbles and words around the drawings meant. little hearts, short confessions of love and silly doodles were the things your eyes could decipher in the short seconds you held the notebook in your hands.

"ellie"

"i told you that they were stupid drawings" she replied, her voice tinged with rage and shame.

she felt idiot. too idiot to fall in love with her friend . too dumb to draw her friend when she was distracted, trying to capture every tiny detail that make you special with a stupid pen in a stupid notebook. too idiot to think about you in that way.

"they are not" you murmur

"yes they are" she feels so ashamed "i should throw this thing to the trash can"

you feel how angry and ashamed she is and your mind just can think of the dumbest or smartest response that has ever you occurred.

so you kiss her.

you fingertips feel the soft skin of her cheeks as you press your lips against hers. you don't move, too afraid to do something, so for a couple of seconds your lips just stay there, warming eachothers flesh.

when you feel that you had made the stupidest decision ever you move away, panicking and mumbling sorry's. your hands leaves ellie's cheeks, to embarrassed to even look at her.

"im sorry" you murmur "im sorry ellie. i don't know who gave me the right to do that. im sorry" you look at the door of her room "maybe i should go. sorry"

but before you can go, ellie kisses you back. her grip is more stronger that yours, her hand resting in the back of your head, moving you against her.

she moves her lips this time. her mouth moves against yours, deepening the kiss quickly. hungry.

she pushes you closer to her, moving you in a way that you end up in her lap, with your hands in her neck, kissing her like your life depends on it.

you can feel the same response from her. her hands are everywhere, squeezing and touching and caressing every part of your body as fast as she can, too excited to keep her hands in one place.

a few moments later you move away from your mouth, searching for air. she looks at you.

everything is very awkward for a couple of seconds before you two start laughing.

ellie's chest moves as she laughs with embarrassment "god" she mouths

you laugh too "confessing your love for me trough drawings" you say "fucking drama queen"

ellie hide her face with her hands "shut up. im embarrassed"

"as you should"

"idiot" she murmurs, taking her hands off her face "can i kiss you again?"

you roll your eyes.

but you nod.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams lesbian #lesbians #friends to lovers #tlou #the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie the last of us

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misserabella · 1 year

Note

would u be able to write like another enemies to lovers ellie williams fic?? or like a part two to just pretend bc i loved that sm 🙌🙌

a/n; of course i will honey

jealousy, jealousy

ellie williams x fem! reader

enemies to lovers!

pt2!!

summary; ellie and you hated each other, until the bottle chooses you and she can’t take it anymore. the game has started, and she’ll leave the pieces for you to make the next move.

cw; mean! ellie (but like really mean), mean! reader, fighting, blood, knifes and weapons, alcohol, drinking, drug mentions and usage (weed), jealousy, possessiveness, public sexual actions (they don’t get caught), making out, choking, hair pulling, kissing, hickeys, fingering, cum eating, teasing, degradation and praise, edging (??)… +18 CONTENT, MINORS DON’T INTERACT OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN!

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

you and ellie didn’t get along. she was rude, always bickering and punching the words out of your guts with her hurtful snaps.

you two couldn’t spend more than a minute together before you’d wish you could choke her with your own hands. she was infuriating.

but who could’ve thought that the day in which you’d need her would come? in which you would pull her close to never let go?

it was funny really, how a little game could change everything.

ellie’s little remarks, ellie rolling her eyes when you’d hunted a bigger deer than her, ellie making you trip on the snow and then laughing at you when you fell head first, snow covering your whole face…

she was a bitch, really. always picking at something. you hadn’t hit the bulls eye of the target while training shooting? she’d laugh and show you how good her aim could be.

“why don’t you do it with your eyes closed then, hm? since you’re so good at it.”

“that’s such a nice idea, then i won’t have to stare at your face anymore!” she smirked, before putting a hand over her eyes and aiming. you scoffed when she perfectly hit the heart.

“yeah sure, i can do that too if i peek through my fingers…” you said, and she laughed.

“are you sure about that?” she arched her eyebrows, nodding at your failed shots.

“fuck you.” you spat, and she smirked.

“you wish.” she whispered.

she would win at a drinking game in jesse’s party? you wouldn’t have the end of it.

“woah, careful princess, try not to fall for me.” she mocked you when she watched you slightly trip.

“call me princess one more time and i’ll fucking choke you.” you threatened and she smirked.

“kinky… i like it.” she winked, and you’d throw her your drink, making her emerald eyes widen as she dodged it the best she could, still getting some on her jeans.

“getting wet for me so easy, williams?” that would be your moment to mock her. and she’d scoff.

“at least i’m not the one dripping.”

and before you knew it, you’d be shivering on your way back home, fully drenched on alcohol. let’s say she ended up the same way.

your fights were so normal that your friends had started to ignore them.

“oh sure, as if i didn’t kick your ass this morning…” you rolled your eyes, taking a hit of your blunt.

“you really think you won? i slipped due to the snow.” she smirked, and you scoffed.

“sure, williams, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“you surely don’t. you have me getting nightmares about your face, waking up drenched in sweat.” she mocked you, and you rose your eyebrows.

“drenched in sweat, sure… you sure about that?” you teased her, taking a peek to her thighs and she hissed. “hey, i’m not the one dreaming about me. but who could blame you. the thing i wanna know is…, do you touch yourself thinking about me too?” her whole face turned red in anger—and maybe something else—, and jesse certainly had to get into it to try and calm the two of you down before you could throw hands at each other.

of course, sometimes that would be impossible to achieve —mostly while you were training combat with Maria—, and the two of you would end up returning home with a brown lip or new bruises.

“one word and i’ll kill you.” ellie would mutter as joel wouldn’t stop staring at her, a smirk on his lips.

“she really has a good right hook.” he’d say before disappearing, and ellie would groan.

but lately things had changed, and ellie had become meaner, rougher… her words were more hurtful, and she definitely was ignoring you more. she seemed on edge lately, jaw always gritted and hands fisted.

“move.” you stopped talking to jack when her voice came from your right. the cafeteria was busy, busting with people from town to get something to eat, and you were catching up with one of your friends, with who you’d grown really close the last couple of weeks.

your eyes found ellie’s and you frowned.

“i said fucking move.” she pushed you away, harshly to make her way in between the two of you, her trolley in between her hands. you were supposedly ‘in the way’ to her spot.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked her, anger in your voice.

“for starters, the mere fact that you’re still breathing.” you scoffed, and in a quick swift of your hand you took your knife, sending it flying across the room and towards her. she was quick enough to dodge it, and the silence filled the cafeteria when the knife harshly dug itself on the wood of the wall on her back.

she was always quick, but this time you had been quicker, and the cut on her cheek was the proof. one of her hands came up to it and swiped away the blood dribbling from it, staining her fingertips in crimson.

“do that again and i’ll fucking kill you.” she threatened.

“i’d like to see you try.” you said, and she was ready to jump, but joel was quick to get in the middle of it.

“ellie.” he said, and she looked at him, harshly dropping her food tray onto one of the tables to pass by him, completely ignoring him and towards the door. but of course, you received a hard bump on your shoulder before she disappeared.

tonight was no different.

the alcohol was bitter and burned her throat, and the blunt on her hand was dying off way too quickly for her taste. the music was loud, and jesse’s house was filled with people dancing and drinking.

it was summer, and jesse had promised a good party. who would say no on their right mind?

you couldn’t, either.

you were laughing, sharing a blunt with dina on the sofa in front of her, cheeks flushed in pink and hazy eyes. jesse was talking to her, but she wasn’t really paying attention, not anymore. he had been talking for 30 fucking minutes and she was done.

suddenly, somebody hummed and smirked. “why don’t we… play the bottle?” people groaned, other laughed and cheered.

ellie huffed. “what are we, fucking thirteen?”

it was a stupid game, so stupid that in less than five minutes a large group of people was sitting on the floor in a circle, a bottle sitting in the middle. and of course, dina had dragged you into it. jesse had done the same with ellie, even though he had feared that she would choke him in any moment. she almost did.

you were having fun, ‘cause the game was so stupid that it was actually funny, and dina was only making it funnier with how drunk and high she was.

the whole crowd let out screams of excitement and cheers when the bottle landed on you. you rolled your eyes when dina shook you, excited, even more when it landed on jack. he was laughing, amused. you two were shaking your heads, you were friends, you didn’t look at the other that way. but people were eager, trying to get what they wanted.

ellie’s blood was boiling. you were blushing. you were fucking blushing. blushing for that douchebag who probably wouldn’t know how to treat you good, how you deserved.

the next thing she did? she would blame it on the alcohol, and probably the weed.

the crowd fell silent as she suddenly stood up, and your eyes widened when she stomped towards you, taking your hand in a harsh grip that wasn’t enough to hurt you, but enough to make you stand up as she dragged you away from the group and out the house. the summer breeze hit you, and you stopped her tracks by freeing yourself from her grip.

“what the fuck?” you asked her, and she turned around to face you, her emerald eyes looked angry, and her jaw was clenched. “what’s wrong with you?!”

“what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you!” she screamed and you scoffed. “you were going to kiss that asshole!”

“i was not!” you yell back. “and even if i were, why would that matter!?”

“it matters. he probably doesn’t even know how to french kiss!”

“oh, and you do?!”

“yes! i do actually!”

“yeah, of course you do…” you scoffed, and she arched her eyebrows.

“what? need me to show you?” before you knew it, you had been cornered against the house’s wall, her breath hitting your face. a shiver went down your spine at her harsh tone. “tell me. would that shut you the fuck up?” she inquired, and you looked at her with hatred.

“try me.”

she looked at you, emerald eyes shining in the dark, and in a harsh tug of your shirt’s collar, she was smashing her lips against yours. you grunted in pain when she harshly pushed you against the wall, your hands finding her hair to tug, making her groan. one of her legs pushed in between your own and up, making you grind down on her, her right hand keeping you in place by surrounding your neck.

it was dizzying, the feeling of her lips, and her body heat, the roughness of her touch and her tongue pushing inside your mouth. she tasted like weed and alcohol, and you found yourself getting addicted to the mix.

you opened your mouth for her, leaned on her touch, pulled her closer. you moaned when one of her hands cupped your tit, harshly gripping it and pinching your nipples, which could be seen through your white tank top.

“fuck ellie…” you sighed, her lips now on your neck, sucking to leave marks that you were too gone to care about. you couldn’t understand. why she was kissing you. why you were kissing back. but did it really matter when it felt this good?

“what? you thought he would make you feel this way? that he’ll kiss you like i do? touch you like i do?” her thigh pushed up to your core, making your clit catch with the seam of your shorts. “you bitch. you’re supposed to be mine, you’re supposed to have nothing more but me in your mind.” she growled, and you gasped for air when she pulled from you so you could ground down on her thigh.

anyone could come out looking for you two and find ellie unbuttoning your pants, her hand slowly pushing into them and under your underwear. your back arched and your lips parted in a moan when her fingers dipped in your folds, she moaned as well when she felt just how wet you were, and just for her.

“teasing me about getting wet for you when you’re the one dripping under my fingers, hm?” she mocked you, and you gasped.

“fuck you.”

“i’m already at it.” she smirked, a whimper ripping your throat when her fingers found your clit, but you muffled it by biting down on your lip. “atta girl. nice and quiet. just how i like it.” you moaned, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “let me help with that.” she said, leaning in to kiss you. it was sloppy, and dirty. she kissed you as if you were hers to take, as if your cunt was hers to fuck. her fingers were thick stretching your pussy. she hummed. “so fucking tight.” you couldn’t stop moaning and letting out little pleased sounds that had her dripping on her underwear. “that feels good, hm? i bet it does. look at you, you’re dribbling baby.” she mocked you, her thumb cleaning the corner of your mouth and your spit. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when she curled them, hitting your g spot. you wanted to scream. ‘cause it felt so fucking good you were melting. “that’s it. that’s the spot, huh? look at you. getting all dumb and fucked out on my fingers. been wanting to have you like this since the first fucking day, shit. been wanting to fuck the attitude of yours out of you for months.” you moaned.

“ellie, fuck, please…” you whimpered, eyes trickling with tears. you were so close it was almost embarrassing, how fast and easy she had pulled you to the edge, how fast your orgasm was approaching. she could feel it. feel the way your walls were tightening and your thighs had started to shake. she could see the way your breathing had become more ragged and you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“you gonna cum, pretty girl? gonna cum for me?” you nodded, whining, teetering the edge. “go ahead baby, soak my fingers.” and with that you were falling apart, gushing around her fingers just like she had asked, moaning her name and being muffled by her lips. you couldn’t follow the kiss, too drunk on the pleasure. she helped you rode it out, kissing you messily, pumping her finger in and out of your drooling cunt.

your knees wobbled, and she pulled out her fingers to suck them clean. you moaned at the sight, eyes glassy and rosy cheeks. she looked at you, and her heart stopped. ‘cause you looked like a fucking mess, but you looked so fucking hot that her pussy was aching for attention.

but she couldn’t. she wouldn’t. ‘cause she had to make a point. and now that she had, she just needed to wait.

you leaned in to kiss her, hand tugging on his auburn hair, but she pushed against it, making you whine and later gasp when her hand held your throat to keep you in place.

“ellie… please…” you begged, in need of more. in need of her.

and she smirked.

“you poor thing.” she mocked you, getting away from you. “if you so badly need to be fucked… jack is inside.” she spat, and before you could say anything, she was walking away, leaving you there on the porch of the house in the middle of the fucking night, with ringing ears and wobbly legs… and as much as you hated to admit it… aching for more.

a/n; pt.2? 👀

ellie williams masterlist! <3

xxx

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