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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

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Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

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atomicami · 4 months ago

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bull ride

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: you spend the night out at a bar and decide to challenge yourself on the mechanical bull to impress abby. when abby sees you from the crowd, she ends up giving you something else to take a ride on. (part 4)

- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel and jerry are both alive, jerry is not a doctor, reader has a business degree, family & work drama, bar setting, some alcohol consumption, truck sex (bit of a quickie), fingering (a!receiving), strap usage (r!receiving), strap sucking, abby referring to the strap as her cock, basically save a horse ride a cowgirl tbh 🤠

- author’s note: hi everyone… i know i’ve been very inactive this year but this part has actually been sitting in my drafts since march so i figured i’d at least post it for the few people who’ve been waiting this long to read it, i hope y’all enjoy it

previous parts: quick fix, surprise visit, charity work

It’s been a week since the bake sale, meaning that it’s also been a week since Abby last had her hands on you.

You’d be lying if you said that this week was flying slow for you right now, because to your surprise, seven days flew by like seven minutes, and before you knew it, it was officially Saturday.

You’re sitting in your room by your dresser, fully dressed from head to toe in the finest Western apparel that you own, finishing the touches on your makeup in the mirror. You then look down at your phone for a moment, still eyeing the last text that Abby had sent you.

She invited you to go to Wild Randy’s tonight, and while you were excited to see her again, you were dreading it at the same time.

It was mainly because Wild Randy’s was the go-to place for you and Joel, and as bad as you want to sneak off with Abby again, you knew that you’d also have to make sure you wouldn’t get caught by your dad either.

You take a few deep breaths before standing up and adjusting your belt, then grabbing your phone and bag before exiting your bedroom.

“Dad! I’m ready to go!” you call out as you strut down the stairs. Given that you always take longer than him to get ready, you figured he’d be sitting on the couch waiting for you, but to your surprise, he wasn’t there.

“Dad? Where are you?” you call out for him again, entering the kitchen to find it empty as well. You roam around the house for a bit before entering the garage, seeing him still in his work clothes working on blueprints. “Dad…are you not coming?”

Joel looks up at you, frowning once he sees you ready to leave. “Oh, shit…it’s Saturday isn’t it?” he says, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sorry kid, I know we go to Randy’s every Saturday but…work’s just been tyin’ me down lately.”

You nod to your dad in acknowledgment. “Well, we can skip tonight if—“

“No, no, no, s’alright,” he says, quickly cutting off your words. “You go. There’s always next weekend right?” he looks down for a moment at his workspace before looking back up at you. “Are you gonna drive yourself there or…?”

“Oh, um it’s okay Dad, I can text Dina for a ride.” you take a few steps closer to him before continuing. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask him, receiving a nod from him in response.

“Okay, well…don’t stay up too late, we have to go to the hardware store next week to start getting supplies for the Mitchell home.” you remind him as you walk your way to the door.

Joel clicks his tongue at you in response. “Thanks for remindin’ me, kid. Don’t have too much fun out there, alright?”

You smile and nod back at him before leaving the garage. Even though you felt bad that your dad couldn’t come, you can’t help but feel relieved about it either. With your dad out of the way, you’d be able to get some time with Abby without the risk of getting caught by him.

You pull out your phone to send a text to Dina telling her to pick you up, and in less than ten minutes she was already honking at your door. While checking to make sure you have everything, you exit your house before locking it, walking down the porch to see Dina inside her car with the windows rolled down.

“Hey, you!” she shouts out, leaning forward over her steering wheel. “Ready for Randy’s?”

“You bet I am!” you shout back to her as you hurriedly get into the passenger side of her car and sit down.

The ride to Wild Randy’s was pretty quick, given that there’s never a rush hour on Saturdays. Aside from the twenty minutes it took Dina to find an available parking spot, the two of you were now quickly settled at the bar.

“So tell me, how’s it going with you and Abby?” Dina asks you as you both sit yourselves down on the bar stools.

Before you can respond to her, Jesse ends up cutting in from behind the bar with two beers in his hand. “Wait a second, you’ve been having a thing with Anderson?” he asks you, popping open the two bottles before handing them to you and Dina. “Didn’t you say that your dad doesn’t want you around her?”

You nod to him in response. “Yeah, and I mean I’ve been doing that for what, four, five years now? But I needed her to come over a few weeks ago to fix an outlet in my living room and it just like…happened, you know?” you explained, taking a sip from your beer.

Dina quickly gulped and set her bottle back down on the bar. “Wait a minute…is that why you were acting so weird during movie night?”

“Yeah…” you tell her with a nod, taking another sip out of your beer. “Anyways, she told me she was going to be here today so…” your words drift off as you turn your head around in search of her, and you are quick to catch her entering the bar with her group of friends. Not only that, but her father was also nowhere to be seen.

It was the first time you saw Abby like this, outside of work and not in her work clothes for once. She was wearing a pair of jeans instead of her usual cargo pants, a pair of western boots instead of her usual work ones, and her tool belt was ditched for a leather belt with a metal buckle on the center. She also had on a tight button-up that showed off her muscles, and to top it all off, a cowboy’s hat that rested over her braided blond hair.

You hate to admit it, but she was looking pretty damn good right now.

Dina suddenly snaps her fingers at you to get your attention, causing you to swivel your chair back around. “She’s there right now isn’t she?” she asks you, receiving a nod from you in response.

“Yeah, I want to go talk to her but…” your words drift off again as you turn back to see her. As you check her out, you notice from the corner of your eye some movement going on towards your left. You fully swivel your chair around this time to get a better look. It appeared to be a group of employees carrying out a large mechanical bull inside an inflatable ring, while another employee stood next to them, giving them orders on where to position the machine.

“Jesse,” you call out to him, swiveling your stool back to face him. “They’re bringing back the bull?”

Jesse looks up briefly to see the mechanical bull being set up before looking back down and pouring some contents into a cocktail shaker. “Yeah, we’ve been getting so many requests to bring it back up after our last bull broke down last year,” he explains as he continues preparing the cocktail for the customer in front of him.

You briefly look back at the bull for a moment, then look over to where Abby was. At that moment, an idea instantly sparked in your mind. What better way could there be to catch Abby’s attention than impressing her by taking a ride on the mechanical bull?

The sound of a loud microphone tap shakes you out of your thoughts, and you look over to see the bar’s owner standing in front of the bull with the microphone in his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he calls out, quickly grabbing the attention of all the patrons inside the dimly lit bar. “I’m pleased to announce that we now have our brand new and improved mechanical bull back into our bar!” he announces, quickly receiving cheers and applause from the customers. “Now who in here…” he says, pointing a finger around the bar. “Is gonna be the first one to be brave enough and take her for a ride?”

You look around the bar to see several amounts of people already preparing themselves for the challenge. Part of you wanted to not do it, but a bigger part of you wanted to ride that damn bull like there was no tomorrow. You were willing to do it, just for the sake of impressing Abby. Neither of your dads were here right now, so who knows when you could get another opportunity like this? It was either now or never.

“I’ll do it!” you shout out, quickly raising your hand to get the owner’s attention.

Dina quickly grabs your hand and pulls it down to your lap. “What are you doing? Are you seriously gonna ride that thing?” she asks with concern.

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off by the owner shouting at you. “You right there! Come on up here!”

You look over at the man before back at Dina. “I guess I am now,” you tell her with a shrug, hopping off of the bar stool and approaching your way towards the ring.

As you walk away from the bar, Jesse comes to Dina from behind, leaning into her side. “I’ll bet you $20 that she won’t last the full five minutes.”

You watch the owner squint to try to get a better look at you as you get closer to the inflatable ring. “Well well well, what do we have here!” he says as you make it to the ring, now standing next to him. “If it isn’t Joel Miller’s daughter herself. You think you’ll be able to handle the bull, Miss Miller?” he asks, pointing the microphone towards you.

You grab the mic from the owner and hold it closer to yourself. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see but…I think I could handle her,” you tell him with confidence before handing the mic back to him.

Numerous amounts of patrons clap and cheer you on in response. As the owner continues to speak to the audience, you step into the inflatable ring, watching as your boots sink inside. You look at your surroundings for a moment, seeing all of the customers placing their bidding money into a hat and passing it around the bar. The hat goes around past Abby as well, and you could’ve sworn she had slipped a hundred-dollar bill in there for you. Her eyes then meet with yours for a moment, and so does that stupid smirk of hers.

“Alright Miss Miller, you have five minutes up on the clock now, if you can make it to the end, you win the bidding money, got it?” the owner explains to you.

You nod at him in acknowledgment. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

You then turn back around so you’re facing the bull. You take a few steps backward as a head start, then quickly run forward and hop on top of the bull. Your hands quickly grab onto the handles, and you keep your legs wrapped around the sides of the bull. Lastly, you position your hips on the bull by pushing them forward, keeping yourself as close as possible to the saddle.

The bull was quickly activated as soon as you sat down, and so was the timer. The machine began to rock back and forth, slowly to start. Once you felt like you were getting the hang of it, that’s when the speed began to go faster. Your grip on the bull progressively gets tighter and tighter the more that the speed increases. It eventually escalated to the fullest speed, the bull now moving and spinning around like crazy. Time has never flown by slower for you than at this moment. On the inside, you were getting so dizzy to where you were going to be sick. But you couldn’t express that. Not in front of the audience. Not in front of Abby.

Regardless of it, you refused to let go. You held onto the bull like your life depended on it, waiting for the timer to count down to zero. Five minutes felt more like an eternity to you right now, but you soon start to feel relief once you hear the audience begin to count down.

Ten, nine, eight…

You lock down your grip on the bull’s handles.

Seven, six, five…

Your legs remain secure on each side of the saddle, and your hips push forward against it. As much as you were trying to hold onto the bull, you couldn’t help but imagine your hips pushing forward on Abby’s str—

Four, three, two, one!

The timer goes off, and the bull begins to slow itself down. As the machine comes to a stop, you instantly loosen your grip on it. You let out a breath of relief as you look up, watching all of the patrons cheer and applaud you. One of the employees approaches to help you, and you carefully hop off the bull before exiting the ring.

“I have to say you did phenomenal on that bull there, Miss Miller.” the owner tells you through the mic, handing you the bidding money. “Anything you wanna say to the audience?”

You take the money from his hands before taking the microphone. “Well, first of all, thank you all for bidding on me, and second…” you pause for a moment before continuing. “And I don’t mean to self-promote but…if anyone here needs any construction help…be sure to contact my dad’s company, Miller Contracting. We’re the best in all of Austin.” your eyes scan around the audience before your gaze fixes on Abby. You keep your eyes on her for a little bit, smirking at her before looking back at the audience and walking off, a last set of applause happening as you do so.

You make your way back to the spot where Jesse and Dina remain. “See? Told y’all I’d beat that thing,” you say, flaunting your bidding money in front of them. Jesse leans forward on the bar to get closer to you. “Mind if I get a cut of that?” he asks, trying to grab the money from your hand.

You move your hand away from him and shake your head. “Hell no, I won this fair and square,” you tell him, clutching the money close to your chest. “Besides, didn’t you bid against me anyway?”

Jesse scoffs, still leaning forward on the bar. “Yeah, but I still have rent to pay,” he replies before taking his weight off the bar to assist another customer.

You simply roll your eyes at him and chuckle in response as you count your money. “Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not even that much—“ your words quickly cut off once you notice something unusual on the hundred-dollar bill. You pull it out of the thin stack, seeing a note attached to it that reads:

“Meet me at the parking lot in five. —A”

You smirk to yourself upon reading the message, not even realizing that you were doing so until Dina points it out. “She wants you to go see her, doesn’t she?” she asks, crossing her arms at you.

You simply nod at her in acknowledgment. “Yeah, she does…” you reply, reaching to the bar to grab the rest of your things before saying goodbye to Jesse and Dina. Upon leaving, you look over to see Abby on the other side of the bar. You watch as she pays for her beer and leaves from the other exit. The thrill and excitement starts to consume you already in seeing her again.

The cool air hits you once you exit the bar. You roam around the parking lot in search of her until you hear a faint whistling sound from behind. You turn around to see Abby’s prominent figure from a distance leaning on the side of her truck. You don’t approach her quickly though. Instead, you take your time walking your way towards her.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t the bull tamer herself…” Abby says, taking her weight off the truck. “You looked good up there, you know…riding that thing.”

You smirk and take a step closer to her. “I’m glad. Wanted to put on a show for you there,” you tell her quietly, and she leans in to give you a kiss, the rim of her cowboy hat slightly brushing over the top of your head as your lips briefly connect.

“You know…” she tells you quietly, slightly separating her lips from yours. “I’ve got something else that you can take a ride on for me…”

“Oh yeah?” you whisper back to her. “And what might that be?”

“Why don’t you hop in my truck and find out?”

And with that you take a step back, letting Abby unlock her truck before opening the passenger door and entering inside. Upon opening the door, you couldn’t help but notice that the windows in Abby’s truck were slightly darker than the last time you saw it…did she seriously get her windows tinted?

Abby holds the door open for you, and you quickly climb inside and hop onto her lap before she closes the door and locks it, now confining the both of you inside. Your thighs wrap themselves around Abby’s lab and you push your hips forward over her crotch, just like how you did on the bull. You could practically feel the bulge of her strap under all that denim.

Abby lets out a soft groan at the sudden friction. “How about you get it wet for me first, yeah?” she says, reaching down to the lever on the bottom part of the seat and pushing it back to give you some space on the ground.

You don’t even think twice about it, instantly dropping down to your knees and unzipping her jeans before pulling the thick black strap out of her boxers. After seeing the sight of it, you were pretty shocked. You didn’t get a good look when she fucked you last time, but now that it’s in your hands, you’re amazed that you were able to take the immense length of Abby’s strap.

Your fingers wrap around the large piece of silicone before you lean into it, lips instantly wrapping around the tip. You gently suck onto the tip for a moment, then slowly work your way down to the base of the strap. However, your mouth couldn’t last being down so deep, so you briefly pull it back up to the tip before going back down, repeatedly continuing your movements thereafter.

Abby lets out a quiet groan as she feels the base of her strap rubbing against her clit. Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up for a moment to see her head slightly tilted back, her cowboy hat obstructing her view as well.

You keep stroking her strap with one hand, spreading your saliva all over from base to tip to distract her. As you do that, you use your other hand to gently shift the harness to the side and sneak your fingers into the crotch of her boxers, instantly finding access to her wet pussy before sliding two of them inside.

Abby notices the sudden shift of movement and looks down at you. “What the hell are you—oh fuck—“ her words get cut off with a quiet groan as you begin to curl her fingers inside of her. “Oh fuck yeah, k-keep doing that…”

You smirk back at her as you continue to pump your fingers inside her, now fully diverting your attention away from the strap for a moment. Your other hand moves to keep the harness of the strap pushed to the side while you finger Abby’s pussy, and you look up to keep an eye on her every movement—the way her hands grip the seat of the truck, the moans and whines escaping from her mouth, and how her eyes were tightly shut and the head was thrown back in pleasure. You’d be lying if you said that the way she looked right now wasn’t turning you on because you can just easily feel your arousal pooling in between your thighs as you do this to her.

“God, fucking hell—go…go faster…” Abby whines out to you, tightening her grip on the seat as she manspreads herself farther on it to give you more space. You simply nod in acknowledgment, speeding up your pace inside her in a desperate effort to get her to cum.

You can visibly see her breaths getting deeper, and you can practically feel the way her cunt began to contract around your two fingers, knowing that she was getting close. Within moments, your fingers get instantly coated with her release as she cums around them with a loud groan. Her breathing soon slows down as she recovers from her orgasm and she looks back down at you. Your gaze stays fixed on hers while you slide your fingers out of her pussy and place them into your mouth, sucking them clean while you get a taste of her release.

“My god…” Abby pants out, still trying to catch her breath. “No one’s ever made me cum that fast before…you’re good at this too, you know.”

You smirk back at her as you sit back for a moment, briefly resting your weight on the back of your boots. “Looks like you’re not the only one who’s good at making a quick fix, Anderson.” the blonde simply shakes her head at you in response before patting her hand on her lap. “Your turn now, angel. Get on up here.”

Without hesitation, you slowly lift yourself from the floor of the truck and climb onto Abby’s lap in the passenger seat, her large hands quickly roaming up and down your hips as you do so. You watch as she scrunches up your skirt around your hips and brings one of her hands down to the crotch of your underwear, smirking once she senses the wetness underneath it. “Looks like she’s pretty eager to take a ride, don’t you think?”

You nod quickly in response, and you lift yourself to hover over the strap. Abby helps you out by shifting your underwear to the side and spreading your puffy folds open. You grab the strap with one hand to align it with your entrance while you grab onto Abby’s shoulder with the other to support yourself as you go down.

The tip meets with your entrance, and you whimper at the sudden stretch. Your grip on Abby’s shoulder tightens as you try to maintain your balance over her lap. And then, little by little…you begin to sink down her strap, all the way until your folds were pressing over the base of it.

Once the entire length was inside you, you used your other hand to grab Abby’s other shoulder for balance. The feeling this time was a little more difficult to handle in comparison to how Abby had fucked you at the bake sale. You weren’t bent over, nor did you have the support of the counter either. You were completely sat upright, in the confined passenger seat of Abby’s truck, with her strap so far inside you that she could visibly see the tip poking out of your lower stomach. It sure felt overwhelming, to say the least.

“Fuck…you look good for me like this…” she mutters out quietly as she runs her thumbs down your stomach, gently pressing onto the bulge that was being formed from her strap. She watches as you continue to stay upright, now squirming in her grasp as a response to the pressure she was giving to your stomach. “You know…it’s not gonna feel any better if you don’t move.” she continues, now bringing one hand further down to rub your clit. “Take a ride on it, princess…It’ll feel good once you start moving.”

Your eyes flicker down to the watch that was wrapped around Abby’s left wrist. You glance at the time.

10:39…10:40.

You take a deep breath and tighten your grip on Abby’s broad shoulders. As her hands remain planted on your body, you begin to lift yourself up before going straight back down. You repeat the process, now developing a slow pace on her strap.

Abby smirks as she looks up at you, watching every moan and whimper escape from your lips as you fuck yourself on her cock. “There we go, that’s it…atta girl…” her praises and coos continue, now leading you to move at a faster pace. As you begin to ride her faster, Abby notices how close your head is getting to the ceiling of her truck every time you go up. While keeping one hand planted on you, she quickly takes off her cowboy hat and places it on your head, fixing up the rim so she can still see you. “Prettiest cowgirl I’ve ever seen,” she mutters out quietly, placing her hand back onto your hip as you keep riding her.

As you keep riding Abby’s strap, you take a glance out the window, making you slow down to get a better look. You see some people leaving the bar and walking their way back to their vehicles, and your heart begins fucking racing when they pass by Abby’s truck, completely oblivious of the events that are happening inside it.

“Hey,” Abby squeezes your hip, causing you to direct your attention back to her. “They’re not seeing any of this, you know…” she pauses for a moment before continuing. “But I bet you want them to, don’t you? It’s obvious you enjoyed throwing on that little show back there at the bar earlier, so would this be any different?” she asks, leaning in to kiss you. “Would it be any different if those same people saw a pretty cowgirl like you slutting herself out for me like this? Riding my cock and making a mess all over my lap? Hm?”

You whine back at her, shaking your head. “Yeah, I knew you’d like that, my filthy little cowgirl…” she responds with a smirk. “But you see, that’s why I have all of my windows tinted now…because I don’t want anyone to see what’s really mine.”

Your pussy practically throbs at her words. You were so distracted by what Abby was saying to you that didn’t even realize that you had stopped riding her. Your arousal was now just soaking up her cock and jeans. Abby looks down at her lap and smirks before looking back up at you. “I didn’t tell you to stop now, did I?” she asks, giving you a smack on your ass. “C’mon, cowgirl…keep fucking riding me.”

Your pace now begins to quicken this time, and you move your left hand to the armrest that was above your head, gripping it as you keep your other hand on her shoulder. “F-fuck, Abby…f-feels so good….” you moan out to her, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the tip of her strap presses onto your cervix while you ride.

“Oh yeah? Does it feel good, princess?” she asks, admiring how you were starting to go dumb on her cock. “That’s it, keep riding me, just like that…Ride me just like how you were riding that damn bull.”

Abby’s words had your stomach doing fucking flips. You tried your best to maintain your fast pace as you rode her strap, but your legs were quickly starting to give out. “A-Abby, help me…please…”

“Aw, you poor thing, getting tired already now aren’t you?” Without any warning, Abby tightens her grip on your hips and begins to slam her cock right into you. You yelp in surprise as your left hand flies from the armrest back onto Abby’s shoulder, and you continue to push your hips down as Abby keeps thrusting inside you. “C’mon cowgirl, be a good girl and cum for me now…”

Your cunt begins to clench around her strap, indicating that you were about to cum. Abby looks down at your pussy, watching in awe as a white ring began to quickly form on her strap. Her thumb meets with your clit, quickly rubbing it as you continue to cum all over her cock, whimpering and moaning out her name as you do so.

As you finish riding out your orgasm, your pace begins to slow down and you rest yourself on Abby’s chest, panting deeply as you try to catch your breath. Before Abby pulls herself out, you grab her left wrist again and glance back down at her watch.

10:43…10:44.

“Four minutes,” Abby says, looking down at her watch. “Looks like you made a new record.”

You playfully push her arm back as she brings her hand back onto your hip and slowly pulls her strap out of your fucked out pussy, causing you to whine at the loss of it. Keeping you in her arms, Abby trades places with you and carefully rests your limp body onto the seat while briefly she gets onto the ground. She peeks through the fogged up windows, making sure that the coast was clear so she could get out of the truck.

As you watch Abby hop off her truck, your eyes start to feel heavy from the exhaustion before quickly fluttering shut for a moment. As your eyes were closed, you could feel Abby’s large hands move your body around before the sudden warmth of her tongue makes contact with your sore cunt, causing you to involuntarily jerk away.

“Hey, relax…I’m just cleaning you up a bit,” she mutters out to you. You simply nod in response, eyes remaining shut as your body eases in and relaxes into her touch again. The gentle movements of Abby’s tongue and lips on your pussy easily removes the tension in your thighs, making you feel as if you were now sinking into the leather of the seat. You then start to feel some shifting of your clothes along with the sounds of the truck doors opening and closing right before you briefly fall into a state of slumber.

The sudden rumbling movements of the truck cause your eyes to slowly flicker back open. You wake up to find yourself lying on your left side in the passenger seat, but now with the seatbelt secured over you. The dim lights of the truck are no longer present, only the faint brightness of the music player on the dashboard is the only thing illuminating your vision right now. The sounds of the few cars on the road surround you, along with the country music quietly playing inside as well. You look up to see Abby with her gaze fixed on the road, with one hand planted firmly on the steering wheel while the other simply rested over on the center console.

You rest your hand on top of hers, and Abby quickly notices that gentle touch of yours, briefly glancing down to look at you. “Hey there…” she says with a smile before looking back up at the road. “You were out for most of the ride, feeling any better?” she asks, gently enclosing your hand into her large palm.

You shift around in your seat, no longer feeling as sore as you were before. “Yeah, a little…” you tell her, resting your head back on the seat as you watch her drive. “I had a really good time tonight, you know…” you tell her, to which she smiles in response.

“I did too,” she replies, quickly looking over to you again. “Felt nice to finally escape from our dads for once.”

The speed of the truck soon starts to slow down before coming to a halt. Your heart instantly sinks to the pit of your stomach, and your smile begins to fade. You knew what this meant.

It meant that you were back home. Your time with Abby was now up.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up completely to look over at the sight of your house. All of the lights were shut off, except for the faint blue light of the living room TV, and you could easily see your dad’s head tilted to the side, indicating that he was now asleep.

You let out a sigh. “I…I don’t want to go back in there,” you say, turning your head back to look at Abby. She simply sighs and gently rubs your shoulder. “I know you don’t, angel…but we can’t risk it. As much as I can’t stand your dad, I don’t want him to get worried about you either.”

Your head hangs low now, nodding in acknowledgment. Abby’s hand gently holds your chin to lift your face. “You know this won’t be the last time, right?” she asks you, to which you nod again.

“I know, I just…I’ll miss you, Abs…who knows when we’ll see each other again?” you ask back, looking up into her soft blue eyes. She nods back at you in response. “It’ll happen again soon, okay? Just know that I’m always gonna have you on my mind, alright?” she says before quickly leaning in to kiss you, the rim of her hat on your head brushing over her hair this time as she does so.

You instantly kiss her back before pulling away to grab your things from the ground. You take a deep breath and open the door, exiting the truck and closing it. Your boots now meet with the concrete of the sidewalk, and you walk your way to the front door of your house. Before you go in, you look back to see Abby watching you from her truck, and you two give each other a final wave before she drives off to park into the driveway of her house.

As the lights of Abby’s truck shut off now, you turn back to the door to unlock it. You slowly open the door just enough to squeeze yourself inside before closing it and locking it again. You turn around to see Joel fast asleep on his recliner while the TV screen illuminates the whole room. Without making a sound, you tiptoe on over to pick up the remote from the coffee table and shut off the TV. You set the remote back down and turn over to pick up a throw blanket from the couch to tuck your dad in before heading upstairs to your bedroom.

The door creaks slightly as you enter inside. You slowly close the door before letting out a sigh as you set your bag down on the ground before kicking off your boots. You take off Abby’s hat and set it on top of your dresser before the rest of your clothes come off of you and to the ground until you’re down to your underwear. You pick up a random oversized shirt from your dad’s company and throw it on. As you’re taking off your makeup, your phone buzzes on your bed, and you reach over to pick it up.

“Abby: I’ll be thinking of you.”

You look up from the screen to your right, seeing her broad silhouette in the bedroom window across from yours. The two of you stare at each other for a bit, until you wave her off and get into bed, to which she does the same right after.

Not only was this the first night the two of you had officially spent alone together, but it was also the first night where you both just couldn’t take each other off of your minds now.

And all you could do was just wait until your path meets with hers again.

- tags 🏷️: @nyctophiliq @lucidfairies @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @abbysfavewh0rx @lia-winther @grooviestcowboy @pretty-prrincess-13 @iwillkilyou @erinsdeluluworld @elliens4 @totallyghostdgirl @sirenbxby @bellaramslover @uraesthete @cherrycolouredflunk @whorn3y @thatonementallyillsimp @elliewilliamsmunch @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @mochiivqi @floptron @swtsuna @naomis-daydream @hunnybunnyhazel @paprikahoernchen @bbglmfao @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @littlegingerperson @ur-fav-pixi @2busyfangirling @lmaoo-spiderman @olive-fics @onlinelesbo @piscesfairyyy @mrsandersons (striked means i couldn’t tag)

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 7 months ago

Text

I Want To Kill Her (Part 2)

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 1

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, emotional abuse.

Word Count: 10,085

The months following the gut-wrenching discovery of Teddy's affair were a chaotic storm of emotions and turmoil. The idea of my spouse, the person I trusted most in this world, being unfaithful was unbearable. But without any concrete evidence, doubt enveloped me like a thick fog, suffocating me as I struggled to regain my footing. Though I desperately wanted to believe he wasn't cheating, the blatant signs and whispers from those around us made it impossible to deny the painful truth.

Rage and heartbreak battle within me as I struggle to forgive Teddy, to find a way to salvage our relationship. But each attempt is met with the painful memories of his infidelity, burning like acid through my veins. I'm terrified of losing my British citizenship, my sense of identity and belonging, if I leave him. And even worse, I dread the thought of calling my family and confessing the truth - that not only did Teddy betray me with another woman, but in some sick twisted way, I am also to blame. My family adored him like a son, and he gave me a life beyond my wildest dreams. How could I ever reconcile these conflicting emotions?

Harry's sudden decision to divorce Rosie sent shockwaves through the once peaceful fortress of their home. In just a week, he had packed his bags and walked away, leaving behind a cold and empty shell that was now up for sale. As new potential buyers roamed the halls, I couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal from Harry's abrupt departure. The last time I saw him was in a dingy motel room, where we spent a desperate night together before he vanished without a trace. His disappearance was calculated and cruel, fueled by his seemingly endless wealth and power. Meanwhile, I was left with nothing but uncertainty and the option to return home to Florida. But Harry's resentment only grew as I hesitated to make a final decision. He wanted me to walk away with no regrets, but real life is messy and complicated - far from the neat and tidy ending he desired.

I was trapped in a prison of a house, held captive by a man who claimed to love me but had truly only created a tangled web of chaos and pain. We forced ourselves into therapy every week, desperate to salvage something from the wreckage he had caused. But even after all the sessions, I still felt like I was drowning in the suffocating grip of his selfishness. It was never enough, and I could feel my sanity slipping away with each passing day.

Evenings rolled into nights and days blurred into months. Each moment seemed agonizingly long as I begged time to fly quicker, to wash away the stale taste of betrayal and deception from my existence. The house that once echoed with laughter and love now felt eerily silent, its walls whispering Teddy's betrayal during the quietest hours. My heart ached in ways I never knew possible, each pulse a reminder of the pain he had caused.

In a bid for relief, I threw myself into cooking elaborate meals, organising closets, watering the drooping plants Teddy had once loved. Yet every activity was tainted with the memory of him - his laughter rings in my mind as I repeat chores we used to do together. It was a desperate plight to keep myself sane amidst the storm that threatened to break me down.

Teddy's unfaithfulness took its toll on my spirit, but Harry's abandonment shattered me entirely. I played over our last night together again and again in my mind. There was something feral about that night; lust mixed with desperation and an underlying tone of finality. He left without any explanation, disappearing like a ghost only leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a raw wound that refused to heal.

The cracks were beginning to show. Laughter seemed forced, smiles rarely reached my eyes. The weekly therapy sessions felt more like an interrogation than relief, talks of my own explicit night replaying session after session. Hours spent scrutinizing every detail of our dysfunctional relationship only amplified my misery. Every shared secret, every stolen glance, every whispered promise – all now seemed meaningless and distorted under the harsh scrutiny of reality.

In the end, it was not Teddy who broke me; it was me who had allowed myself to be broken by him. My judgment clouded by love hindered me from seeing the man he truly was – a master manipulator cloaked in charm and charisma. The truth was painful to accept but liberating in its own cruel way. I was no longer in denial. I was no longer the woman who would bend over backwards to accommodate the whims of unfaithful men. I was stronger than my heartbreak, stronger than their deceit. And most importantly, I learned the toughest lesson of my life – not all love is meant to be cherished; sometimes, it's better left discarded.

As I sat in the therapist's office, the stark white walls closing in around me, my voice cracked as I attempted to verbalize the turmoil within me. "I just don't understand how it got to this point," I admitted, tears threatening to spill over.

Dr. Richards leaned forward, her gentle gaze meeting mine with empathy. "It sounds like you've been through a lot of pain and betrayal," she said softly. "But remember, healing begins with acknowledging the truth."

I nodded, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down my cheek. "I know, but it's so hard to let go of everything that was once so real to me."

Dr. Richards offered a kind smile. "It's okay to feel that way. It's all a part of the process." She paused before continuing, "Have you considered what you need to do to move forward from this?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of the question settling heavily on my shoulders. "I... I think I need to start by forgiving myself for allowing this to happen. For not seeing the signs sooner."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken pain and regret. Dr. Richards reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Forgiveness is a powerful tool, both for yourself and for others," she said gently.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "But how do I forgive someone who shattered me into a million pieces?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Dr. Richards' voice was steady and reassuring as she replied, "Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting or excusing their actions. It means releasing the hold they have over your heart and mind."

As I sat there, grappling with the weight of forgiveness, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Dr. Richards' words lingered like a balm on my wounded soul, but the path to healing still seemed daunting.

"I understand that forgiveness is crucial, but how do I even begin to untangle the mess he left behind?" I asked, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

Dr. Richards leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "It's a process, one step at a time," she said gently. "Start by acknowledging your pain and allowing yourself to feel it without judgment."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded, the emotions swirling inside me threatening to spill over. "It's just so hard to let go of the anger and hurt," I confessed.

She nodded in understanding. "Anger is a natural response to betrayal, but holding onto it only prolongs your pain. Remember, forgiveness is not for his benefit, but for yours."

Her words struck a chord deep within me, resonating with a truth I had been avoiding. "I want to move forward, but I don't know where to begin," I admitted, feeling lost in the sea of my own emotions.

Dr. Richards reached for a tissue and handed it to me with a gentle smile. "Start by being gentle with yourself," she advised. "Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, a release from the burden of carrying someone else's actions."

I took the tissue gratefully, wiping away my tears as her words sank in. "I never thought of it that way," I murmured, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the pain.

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You are stronger than you realize. Forgiveness is not about condoning what he did; it's about setting yourself free from his grip on your heart."

As I sat there, enveloped in Dr. Richards' compassion and wisdom, a sense of peace washed over me. The road to forgiveness may be long and arduous, but with her guidance and my own resilience, perhaps one day I could truly let go and embrace the healing that awaited me.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of emotion, a rollercoaster of highs and lows. I spent many sleepless nights replaying old memories, wrestling with anger and regret. But with each passing day, the burden on my heart felt lighter. I began journaling my thoughts, pouring out my hurt into ink instead of letting it fester within me. And despite the painful contents, there was a strange sort of relief in seeing my emotions spelled out on paper.

"Writing can be therapeutic," Dr. Richards had suggested during one of our sessions. "It provides a safe space to confront your feelings, as raw and as tumultuous as they may be."

Within the quiet sanctuary of my mind and the solitude of my room, I started to delve deeper into myself; into the wounds that had been inflicted upon me and the ones I had unknowingly inflicted upon myself. The process was painful but cathartic. For each tear that fell onto the pages of my journal, there was a tiny piece of pain and bitterness being released.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, I found myself becoming less consumed by his betrayal and more focused on my healing. I started attending group therapy sessions where I met others who bore similar scars – our shared experiences bound us together in a circle of empathy and understanding.

In those group meetings, I realized that pain was universal but so was resilience. Listening to others narrate their journeys of recovery ignited a spark within me. I saw mirrored in their stories my own strength and determination to rise above the ashes.

One day, while looking at myself in the mirror after another group therapy session, something remarkable happened. Staring back at me was a woman who looked familiar but different—a stronger version of myself; a survivor. My reflection no longer showcased the woman betrayed by love but instead revealed a woman who had found strength amidst despair.

“I am not just a victim,” I whispered to my reflection, the words filling the room with a newfound determination. “I am a survivor.”

The following week in Dr. Richard's office, I found myself recalling this moment with a sense of pride. "I am starting to see changes," I admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

She returned my smile, her eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. "Change is a testament to your strength and resilience," she responded. "You're embracing this journey with courage, learning to forgive not just him, but yourself as well."

Her words felt like a beacon of hope guiding me through the foggy path of recovery. While the pain still lingered like an unforgotten ghost, each day it seemed less potent than before. I was indeed learning to forgive—forgive him for his betrayal and forgive myself for my blindness to his deceit.

As our session ended, I left Dr. Richards' office feeling lighter than when I had come in. With every step away from her office and every step towards home, I was journeying farther from the woman who had allowed herself to be broken by betrayal and closer to the woman who had found strength in her own resilience.

Journaling had become my safe haven, a place where I could pour out my deepest thoughts and emotions without fear of judgment. But that sanctuary was shattered when one day, in a rush to make it to therapy on time, I left my journal open on the bed. My heart stopped when I returned to find Teddy holding it, his eyes scanning the pages filled with my most vulnerable moments. In an instant, my privacy was invaded and my trust was broken.

The tense silence in the room shattered as Teddy's furious voice pierced the air, causing my heart to skip a beat. I watched helplessly as he held my journal in a white-knuckled grip, his eyes scanning the pages with growing anger. "What the actual fuck is this?" he bellowed, his face contorted with rage.

I stood frozen, my mind racing to find the right words to diffuse the escalating situation. "Teddy, please put that down," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, but he ignored me, his expression dark and menacing.

With a sharp intake of breath, I lunged forward to grab the journal from his hands, but he deftly sidestepped me. The tension crackled between us like electricity, each heartbeat echoing in the turbulent silence that enveloped the room.

"You've been writing about our sessions? and Harry?" Teddy's voice was laced with accusation, his gaze burning into mine with searing intensity.

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me as I squared my shoulders. "It's none of your business," I shot back, my tone sharper than intended, but I refused to back down in the face of his intrusion.

His jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his towering presence casting a shadow over me. "None of my business? You've been documenting our private moments, our struggles! How you also fucked the neighbor?" His voice rose with each word, reverberating off the walls like thunder in a storm “As if that little fucking photo he sent while fucking you, my wife, wasn’t bad enough”.

I could feel my own anger building, fueled by his violation of my privacy. "You have no right to invade my thoughts like this and last I checked, you were the one who started cheating," I retorted, the words dripping with resentment and hurt.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as we stood locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to yield ground. The air grew thick with unspoken accusations and grievances left festering beneath the surface.

"You think you can just hide behind your journal and play the victim?" Teddy's voice was laced with contempt, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

My fists clenched at my sides as a surge of defiance coursed through me. "I am not playing anything! This is my way of coping with everything you've put me through, let’s remember who started this mess," I shot back, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me.

His laugh was harsh and bitter, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. "Coping? Is that what you call it? Writing about how I've destroyed you? This is pretty much a sex book." His words were like daggers aimed straight at my heart.

The room seemed to shrink around us as we faced off in this battle of words and wills. Every breath felt heavy with unspoken truths and buried emotions that threatened to erupt like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

"I trusted you," I whispered hoarsely, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as the weight of his betrayal bore down on me like a crushing weight.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once more. "Trusted me? Look where that got you," he sneered, a cruel twist to his lips betraying the depths of his callousness.

The walls seemed to close in around us as the fight escalated into a tumultuous storm of emotions and accusations. Each word exchanged felt like a blow to an already fractured foundation that threatened to crumble under the weight of our shared pain.

The rumble of thunder outside echoed the turmoil inside as our voices rose in a crescendo of anger and hurt. The room pulsed with an energy so charged it felt as though lightning might strike at any moment, igniting a fire that would consume us both.

"I'm tired of being your punching bag," I declared, my voice firm with newfound resolve.

Teddy's face contorted with fury. "You think you're innocent in all this?" he shot back, his words like venom dripping from his lips.

The air crackled with electricity as we faced off in a battle neither willing to concede. It was a clash of egos and emotions, each word exchanged fueling the fire burning between us.

"I won't be silenced by your guilt-tripping," I retorted, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with precision.

Teddy's eyes blazed with rage as he took a step closer, his breath hot against my skin. "Guilt-tripping? You've been playing the victim since day one," he accused, his voice dripping with contempt.

The room seemed on the verge of imploding as our tempers flared and our voices clashed in a symphony of discord. It was a battle of wills and wounded pride, each unwilling to yield ground in this war of words.

"You'll never own up to your mistakes," I accused, my voice tinged with frustration and anger.

Teddy's fists clenched at his sides as he glared at me with unbridled fury. "Mistakes? You're the one who shattered everything we had, we could’ve come back from this. You didn’t have to fuck the first guy you saw!" he roared, his words echoing off the walls like thunder on a stormy night.

The fight raged on like an unrelenting tempest, each word exchanged adding fuel to the fire burning between us. The air crackled with tension as we stood face to face in a battle that threatened to consume us both.

“You know what? I’m done,” I seethed, my voice rising to a fever pitch. "I'll find a place to stay and it sure as hell won't be here!" My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I glared daggers at the person in front of me. The fury coursing through my body threatened to consume me, but I welcomed it, fueled by sheer determination to escape this toxic environment.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands as I dialed Bella's number, she was the first close friend I had made in London. The phone rang for what felt like hours before she finally picked up.

"Hey, Bella. It's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside of me.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I need a place to stay for a while. Can I crash with you?" I blurted out, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Bella didn't hesitate. "Of course! What happened?"

"It's a long story," I replied, tears threatening to spill from my eyes again.

"Don't worry about it. Just come over whenever you're ready," she said reassuringly.

I thanked her and hung up the phone before splashing some cold water on my face in an attempt to compose myself. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I unlocked the bathroom door and made my way back to the living room.

Teddy was nowhere in sight, probably still seething from our argument. I quickly grabbed my backpack and stuffed some clothes and toiletries inside before heading out the door.

The fresh air outside helped clear my mind as I made my way towards Bella's house. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not let Teddy get to me, his words still stung like open wounds.

I couldn't believe how things had escalated so quickly between us. We used to be inseparable, but now it seemed like we were nothing but strangers living under the same roof.

My thoughts were interrupted as I arrived at Bella's house. She greeted me with open arms and led me inside as Bella and I settled down on her cozy couch, surrounded by the warmth of her living room, she handed me a mug of hot tea. The familiar scent of chamomile filled the air, soothing my frayed nerves.

"So, spill it. What happened between you and Teddy?" Bella asked gently, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.

I took a sip of the tea, feeling its comforting warmth seep into my bones. "It's just... we had another one of those fights about the cheating. The same patterns repeating over and over again. I don't think we can fix this anymore," I admitted, feeling a heavy weight lift off my chest with each word spoken.

Bella nodded knowingly, her empathy palpable. "Sometimes things reach a point where they can't be salvaged, no matter how much we try. It's okay to walk away if it's for your own well-being," she reassured me, her words like a balm to my wounded spirit.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at my friend, grateful for her unwavering support. "I just feel lost, you know? Like I don't even recognize myself anymore in all of this chaos," I whispered, the vulnerability raw in my voice.

Bella reached out and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You're not alone in this. You have people who care about you, who want to see you happy and thriving. And remember, sometimes in letting go, we find the strength to rebuild ourselves," she offered with a gentle smile.

Her words resonated deep within me, a glimmer of hope flickering in the darkness that had clouded my heart. I wiped away the tears that had escaped and mustered a small smile in return.

"Thank you, Bella. For everything," I expressed sincerely, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me for having such a supportive friend by my side.

The early morning light blazed through my window, a stark reminder of the emptiness that awaited me. With a heavy heart, I resolved to find a job, anything to fill the void left by my crumbling marriage. But even as I searched for employment opportunities, my thoughts kept drifting back to Harry. My desperation to know how he was doing gnawed at me like a festering wound, but there was no way to reach out and ask. As I sat in silence, I couldn't help but imagine the different path my life could have taken if I had chosen Harry over Teddy. The image of us together haunted me, a cruel reminder of what could've been. But now it was too late, and there was no turning back from the pain and regret that consumed me.

My fingers danced across the keys of my laptop, typing and retyping cover letters and resumes. The monotony of each hopeful submission echoed the emptiness in my heart, seemingly endless echoes spiraling into a void. To distract myself, I brewed a strong cup of coffee, the familiar smell offering an odd comfort in the chaos that was now my life.

As the day wore on, my efforts bore no fruit. Each potential employer remained a stranger to me, their responses automated and cold. As darkness began to creep into the room, a sense of defeat washed over me and I closed my laptop with a sigh.

I poured myself another cup of coffee, this time opting for the solitude of the balcony to nurse it. The city below shimmered with life just as it always did, indifferent to the turmoil of one seemingly insignificant inhabitant. Despite the layers of concrete and glass that separated us, I felt strangely connected to those anonymous lights - distant beacons in the abyss.

A haunting melody wafted up from somewhere far below, a soulful duet between an old saxophone and an even older piano. The notes danced through the fragmented night air, weaving stories of love lost and found again. Each note was a phantom whispering bittersweet tales into my ear.

Just then, an unexpected sound cut through my thoughts - the shrill ringtone of my phone nudged me back into reality. My heart clenched as I saw Teddy's name flash across the screen. He hadn't called since our fallout; what could he possibly want now? Nervously biting my lip, I answered it. On the other end of the line Teddy’s voice trembled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place; regret perhaps—or was it desperation?

My heart raced as I hung up and blocked Teddy's number. It was a small act of defiance, of reclaiming control over my life. But in that moment, it felt powerful.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the balcony railing, feeling the cold metal press against my cheek. It was a reminder that I was still here, still alive despite the pain and chaos swirling within me.

But even as I tried to convince myself that cutting off all contact with Teddy was for the best, doubts crept into my mind. What if he really did want to talk? What if he wanted to apologize and make things right?

I pushed those thoughts away, refusing to let them cloud my judgement. I couldn't afford to let him back into my life, not when I was finally starting to move on.

With new determination, I went back inside and resumed my job search. As midnight approached and exhaustion began to take hold, I allowed myself a moment of weakness and checked my email one last time.

A spark of hope ignited within me as I read the email from my job recruiter. It informed me that there was a hiring event happening downtown tomorrow and I had been invited to attend. My heart raced with excitement - this could be my chance to finally land a job.

I quickly confirmed my attendance and began mentally preparing for the event. As much as I hated the thought of going out into the world and facing potential rejection, I knew it was something I had to do.

The next morning, after meticulously picking out an outfit and rehearsing what I would say, I set out for downtown. The bustling streets were a chaotic blend of people rushing to work and tourists taking in the sights. As I walked among them, a sense of anonymity washed over me - just another face in the crowd.

Eventually, I reached the building where the hiring event was taking place. After taking a deep breath, I stepped inside and made my way towards the designated area.

The event was packed with job seekers like myself, all eager for a chance at employment. Despite my nerves, I felt emboldened by their determination and pushed forward to talk to employers.

One after another, I introduced myself and handed out resumes with practiced ease. Some showed interest while others dismissed me without a second glance. But instead of feeling defeated by rejection, I soldiered on with renewed purpose.

Hours passed in this manner until finally, just as hope began to wane, someone took notice of me. It was an HR rep from one of the top companies in town, Pleasing.

My heart pounded as I realized this could potentially lead me down the path to seeing Harry again. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present moment.

The HR rep from Pleasing seemed impressed by my credentials and asked me to come in for an interview the following day. I couldn't believe it - this was exactly the opportunity I had been waiting for.

As I walked out of the hiring event, my mind raced with excitement and nerves. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if Harry still lived in the area, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking. It didn't matter - all that mattered was that I had a chance at a job.

The next day, I arrived at Pleasing's office early, dressed in my best professional attire. The receptionist greeted me with a smile and directed me to the HR department.

I shook myself out of my reverie as the HR rep called me into their office for the interview. Despite my nerves, I answered their questions confidently and highlighted my experience and skills.

As the interview progressed, I could feel the HR rep becoming more and more impressed. The questions became increasingly challenging, but I faced them head-on, demonstrating my knowledge and quick decision-making abilities.

Slowly, the discussion moved on to my potential role in Pleasing and how I saw myself contributing to the company's future. Here, I outlined a comprehensive plan that included innovation, team synergy, and a commitment to meeting corporate objectives. The HR rep listened attentively, occasionally interjecting to clarify or probe deeper into my responses.

The interview concluded on a positive note and I was told that they would get back to me in a week's time. As I left the building, I felt a sense of accomplishment but there was also an underlying excitement - the possibility of crossing paths with Harry and being able to leave Bella’s to find my own flat.

A week passed in a blur of anticipation and anxiety, each day inching closer to the call from Pleasing. When it eventually came through, my heart skipped a beat. They were pleased with my performance during the interview and wanted me on board.

And so began my journey with Pleasing - a journey that was filled with arduous tasks, demanding projects, and incredible opportunities for growth. The work environment was fast-paced but rewarding, pushing me to work harder each day.

One afternoon, a couple of months into my role at Pleasing, I saw him from afar. It was Harry - my former neighbor and one night stand. He looked just as I remembered him: sharp-witted and focused in his tailored suit, there was an air of high authority about him.

My heart raced as I watched him stride through the office, making his way towards the executive level. Memories of our time together flooded back to me - the late nights he spent on top of me, the way he felt, the way he touched me, how he smelt expensive.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized that I needed to find a way to meet with him. But how? As a junior employee, I didn't have easy access to top executives like him.

Determined not to let this opportunity pass me by, I approached my manager and asked if there was any way I could have a meeting with Mr. Styles. She gave me a skeptical look but promised to see what she could do.

A few days later, she called me into her office with a smile on her face. "I spoke to Mr. Styles' assistant and they have agreed to give you 15 minutes next week," she said excitedly.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again after all this time. But what would I say? What would he think of me now?

The day of the meeting arrived and I nervously made my way up to the executive level. As soon as I stepped into Mr. Styles' office, my nerves disappeared - it felt like no time had passed between us at all.

As I cautiously entered his dark office, my heart pounded in my chest. The scent of tobacco and whiskey filled the air, mingling with the intense aura emanating from Harry's piercing green eyes. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I made my way to a chair by his desk.

"Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I saw the name and couldn't believe it was you, bloody hell."

A chill ran down my spine at the iciness in his tone. Memories flooded back of our tumultuous past, the love and betrayal that had torn us apart. But now, standing in front of him again, I couldn't deny the powerful pull that still existed between us.

"Harry," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my insides churn. "Indeed it has, Y/N," he remarked, his eyes never leaving mine. "I must say, I never expected to see you here."

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling the weight of unspoken history hanging between us. "I didn't expect to be here either," I admitted, my voice tinged with a hint of regret.

He raised an eyebrow, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. "And yet fate has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn't it?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me - longing, apprehension, and a spark of unresolved desire. "It seems that way," I said softly.

Harry leaned forward slightly, his expression softening imperceptibly. "Tell me, Y/N," he began, his voice quieter now. "What have you been up to since we last crossed paths?"

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions his presence evoked. "Well," I started hesitantly, "I've been working here at Pleasing. It's been challenging but rewarding."

A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. "Impressive." He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone contemplative. "And what made you seek out a meeting with me today?"

I met his gaze squarely, steeling myself against the vulnerability creeping in. "I wanted to reconnect," I confessed quietly. "To clear the air and maybe... find closure."

Harry regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Closure," he echoed softly. "Perhaps that's something we both need. And Teddy?"

My eyes drop to the ground, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "It's a messy situation, but I had to leave. I've been crashing at my friend Bella's place until I can scrape together enough money for a divorce."

His voice drips with insinuation and I feel my skin prickle with unease. "Oh, how convenient," he sneers. "I knew eventually you would come to your senses, although I thought our night together would have been enough to break you free." My stomach churns at his words.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with unspoken tension as their words hung in the air like charged lightning bolts ready to strike.

"You had no right to think that one night could define me or my decisions." I spat.

Harry's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and something darker as my words cut through the tension between us. "And what right did you have to enter my life again after all this time, Y/N?" he countered sharply, his jaw clenched in frustration.

I squared my shoulders, meeting his challenging gaze head-on. "I didn't come here seeking your approval, Harry," I retorted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I came for myself, to find closure and move on."

He leaned forward, his expression unreadable as he studied me intently. "Closure," he repeated, the word hanging heavily between us. "Is that truly what you need? Or is there something else driving you here?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed my features before I could stop it, and I felt exposed under his piercing scrutiny. "Maybe it's both," I admitted quietly, feeling the weight of years of unresolved emotions pressing down on me.

Harry's gaze softened slightly, a hint of understanding creeping into his eyes. "I see," he murmured, a touch of regret coloring his tone. "Perhaps we both have demons to face before we can truly move forward."

I nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Maybe so," I agreed, a sense of resignation settling over me. "But facing them together might be easier than doing it alone."

Silence enveloped us for a moment, broken only by the sound of our breathing mingling in the charged atmosphere of the room. Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer now. "I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N," he confessed quietly. "Despite everything that happened between us."

My heart clenched at his words, memories flooding back with a force that left me breathless. "I never forgot you either," I whispered, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest.

A myriad of emotions played across Harry's features - longing, regret, and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "Then perhaps we owe it to ourselves to confront the past and see where it leads us, Pleasing has a nice legal plan I can lend to you for a divorce." he suggested tentatively.

I met his gaze, seeing a glimmer of hope reflected in those intense green eyes that had once been my undoing. "Maybe we do," I agreed softly, a sense of anticipation stirring within me.

I stood outside the courtroom, my heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Today was the day I had been waiting for - the day I could finally end this marriage and start a new chapter in my life. But as I took a deep breath and stepped inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of Teddy sitting at a table with his lawyer, confidently flipping through some papers.

Next to him sat Rosie, her perfectly styled hair and expensive outfit standing out like a sore thumb among the drab courtroom surroundings. She smiled smugly in my direction as if she knew something I didn't, and suddenly all my confidence wavered.

My lawyer squeezed my hand reassuringly as we walked towards our side of the court, but I couldn't help feeling like an underdog in this battle. How had Teddy managed to go back to Rosie so quickly while still begging for me just a few weeks earlier? And how long had this been going on?

As we began the proceedings, I listened half-heartedly as their lawyer presented their case - painting me as an unfit wife who refused to support her husband's successful career. The lies stung, but I held back from speaking out.

It wasn't until it was my turn to speak that I found my voice. My lawyer had prepared a strong case for me - highlighting all of Teddy's infidelities and emotional abuse throughout our marriage. As I spoke about his controlling behavior and manipulation tactics, Rosie's smug expression faltered.

But when it was time for Teddy to speak, he denied everything with such conviction that even I started doubting myself. His words were smooth and calculated, painting me as an unstable woman who couldn't handle his success.

I felt my anger bubbling up inside me - how dare he twist the truth like this? But before I could say anything, Rosie jumped in with her own version of events. She talked about how supportive Teddy had been during their brief affair, and how I was just a jealous ex who couldn't move on.

As Rosie spoke, her words felt like sharp knives twisting in my chest. The betrayal and deceit were too much to bear, she was the one who was sleeping with my husband. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. But then, a familiar voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Objection, Your Honor!"

I turned to see my lawyer standing up, his expression firm and determined. "These allegations are baseless and unsubstantiated. My client has provided ample evidence of Mr. Teddy's infidelity and emotional abuse. I request that these false claims be stricken from the record."

The judge nodded solemnly, looking at Teddy and Rosie with a steely gaze. "I will not tolerate false accusations in my courtroom. Stick to the facts."

Teddy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Rosie, on the other hand, remained composed, a smug smile playing on her lips.

"I have evidence that will prove my client's case, Your Honor," she declared confidently. "I request permission to present it."

The judge nodded again, signaling for Rosie to proceed. She stood up gracefully, producing a stack of papers from her briefcase.

"These documents show that Mr. Teddy was out of town on the dates in question," she began, flipping through the pages with ease. "He could not have been at the locations alleged by Mrs. Y/N."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Could it be true? Had I been mistaken all along? Her proof was just texts from Teddy to her saying he was out of town. Which proves nothing, if anything it was more incriminating.

But then, just as doubt started to creep in, a sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"Your Honor," I interrupted, my voice trembling but resolute. "I have proof that Mr. Teddy and Ms. Rosie colluded to fabricate alibis and deceive me. They were working together against me all along."

The courtroom fell into stunned silence as I presented the evidence that exposed their treachery. Teddy's face drained of color, while Rosie's mask of composure finally cracked.

"I-I can explain," Teddy stammered, but it was too late.

The judge slammed his gavel down with finality. "Case closed. Divorce granted in favor of Mrs. Y/N. You are to pay her a monthly settlement of alimony."

As I walked out of the courtroom, a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was finally over - the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation. I could start anew with a sense of freedom and clarity.

And as I glanced back one last time at Teddy and Rosie, their faces twisted with defeat, I knew that justice had been served.

Waiting outside of the courtroom was Harry with a grin, he did a sassy wave to Rosie and Teddy.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Harry said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my forehead. "You did it."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over me. "I couldn't have done it without you, Harry. Thank you for everything."

"Always, love," he replied with a gentle smile.

As we walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel grateful for having Harry by my side.

"I'm so glad this is all over," I said with a sigh, leaning into him as we reached his car.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, unlocking the door and helping me inside before making his way to the driver's seat.

As we drove away from the courthouse, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. My marriage may have ended in betrayal and deceit but now I was free to move on and start over.

"So what's next for you?" Harry asked as we drove through the city streets.

“ I think we should celebrate.” I looked at him with a playful smile.

"Celebrate?" Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "And what did you have in mind for this celebration, Mrs. Y/N?"

I grinned mischievously, leaning over to gently tap his knee. "Oh, nothing too wild. Maybe just a quiet dinner for two at a cozy little bistro."

"A quiet dinner, hmm?" Harry's smirk grew wider. "And what about later, when we're no longer 'quiet'? Any ideas for that celebration?"

"Well," I purred, eyeing him up and down playfully. "That all depends on how good of a date you turn out to be."

"I'll have you know," he countered confidently, "that I'm an excellent date."

"Oh really? And what sort of things do excellent dates do to impress their partners?" I challenged him with a teasing glint in my eye.

Harry chuckled softly before leaning closer to me. "I believe the key to impressing you, love," he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine, "lies somewhere between your pasta and your dessert."

"And exactly how do you plan on pulling that off?" I asked skeptically but with undeniable curiosity piqued within me.

"Oh," he smirked wickedly as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm sure I can come up with something...tasty."

We arrived at the bistro and Harry led me inside, his hand resting on my lower back. The smell of freshly baked bread and spices filled my nostrils as we were greeted by the friendly hostess. She guided us to a cozy booth in the corner of the restaurant before handing us each a menu.

As we perused through the options, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment with Harry. Despite the chaos that had been my life recently, he was there to make me smile and forget about all my worries. I was grateful to be able to be like this with him.

"You know," Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence between us, "I haven't had a proper date night in ages."

I smiled at him. Soon after the waiter came to take our orders and after much deliberation, we settled on sharing a few appetizers and ordering our own entrees. As we waited for our food to arrive, Harry reached across the table to take hold of my hand.

"I'm proud of you," he said sincerely, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You handled everything with grace and strength."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his words. It meant so much to have Harry's support and encouragement through everything I had been going through.

"Thank you," I replied softly, unable to find any other words to express how much his words meant to me.

Our food arrived shortly after and we dug into our dishes with enthusiasm. We laughed and joked as we shared bites of each other's meals, savoring every moment together.

After dinner, Harry insisted on treating me to dessert at a nearby ice cream shop. We walked through the bustling streets hand in hand, enjoying each other's company in the warm summer night.

As we sat on a bench outside the shop, enjoying our ice cream.

My voice trembles as I stare at Harry, regret and guilt weighing heavily on my chest. "I should've left Teddy that night after the motel," I confess, tears welling up in my eyes. "But I was scared. Scared of losing my residency, scared of facing my family's disappointment. I thought I could endure it for a while longer, or that he would be the one to leave first." My words choke in my throat, coming out as a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I continue, my voice shaking. "I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. I was just...lost and confused."

Harry's expression softens as he takes in my words. He reaches out to brush away a tear that falls from my eye.

"You don't have to apologize, love," he says gently. "I understand why you stayed with him. But I wish you had told me sooner."

The guilt bubbles up inside of me, threatening to drown me in its heavy weight. How could I have been so blind and selfish? How could I have hurt someone who cared?

"I'll make it right, Harry," I promise him, wiping away the tears from my cheeks.

Harry's eyes light up with hope as he grasps my hand tightly.

"We'll face this together," he says firmly, determination evident in his voice.

And just like that, the burden on my shoulders feels a little bit lighter knowing that I have Harry by my side.

"It's okay," he whispers soothingly, kissing the top of my head. "You did the right thing.”

We finish our ice cream in comfortable silence before heading back to Harry's flat.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, breaking the silence.

"Of course," Harry replies, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"Why did you never tell me your feelings before?" I ask, feeling a little hesitant.

Harry pauses for a moment before answering. "I didn't want to pressure you or make things awkward between us," he admits. "I wanted you to be happy and if that meant staying with Teddy, then I accepted it. So I left, I couldn’t see you in that situation."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I realize just how selfless and understanding Harry has always been despite his hardened appearence. He truly cares.

"I'm sorry for being so blind," I say softly.

"It's okay," Harry reassures me. "We all make mistakes."

My heart was pounding as we entered the safety of his flat, my senses heightened by the lingering scent of his cologne. Our fingers traced each other's as he deftly made two cups of steaming tea, every touch sending sparks dancing up my arm.

"Would you like a touch of cream?" Harry asked seductively, a teasing smile playing along his lips. His sultry voice sent trepidating waves through me, igniting an insatiable desire that twisted in my belly.

The sight of him leaning casually against the kitchen counter, bathed in soft light, stirred a primal need within me. I watched as he poured a dash of cream into my cup. The way it swirled and mingled with the dark liquid mirrored our own dance - two intricate beings melding to form something far more tantalizing.

"Thank you," I murmured, accepting the warm mug from his hand. My fingers brushed against his, eliciting a delicate shiver that rippled down my spine. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better..."

As we navigated our way towards the plush sofa, our bodies brushed together, the heat between us flaring like a bonfire on a cold night. The taste of our shared dinner still lingered on our tongues as we sipped on our teas; notes of cocoa and warm spices cascading over our taste buds.

He leaned back onto the couch, pulling me with him until I was nestled comfortably against his side. A silence fell upon us as we enjoyed our drinks; comfortable and yet teeming with an unspoken promise of what was to come.

"There's no rush," Harry purred into my ear, allowing his fingers to trace lazy circles around my wrist. His hot breath fanned out across my heated skin, setting off tremors beneath my flesh. "Let's just enjoy this moment."

His words washed over me like scalding water, igniting a yearning that threatened to consume us both. I finished my tea swiftly, setting the empty cup on the coffee table before turning back to Harry.

"Harry," I breathed out, staring into his deep emerald eyes. They were dark with desire, a mirror of my own want. "I want you...now."

With those words, our evening took on an entirely new flavor - one more intimate and fervently carnal than the most decadent dessert. And as I let go of all inhibitions and allowed myself to drown in Harry's love- the guilt and fear felt like distant memories.

Where there had been tears earlier now blossomed laughter and sighs of pleasure, echoing off the walls of Harry's flat. The heat between us couldn't be contained within mere cups of tea. It was a passionate flame that ignited every sense, searing through every inch of our bodies as we began to explore each other with newfound fervor and desperation.

The room seemed to shrink as my words echoed around us. I could feel myself growing wetter by the second, my heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Without another word, he stood up and pulled me close, our bodies pressing tightly against each other.

My hands found their way to his strong shoulders, digging into his skin as he claimed my lips once more. I moaned deeply into the kiss, tasting the tea we just drank on his tongue as he explored every inch of my mouth. His hands traveled down my back, over my ass cheeks, until they reached the hem of my dress.

I gasped as he lifted me off the ground with ease, carrying me towards the bedroom. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer still. As we entered the room he kicked the door shut behind us, locking us in together.

As he backed me towards the bed, his cock growing hard, he paused to look down at me. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the scene laid out before him. "You look so fucking sexy like this," he growled out, his voice rough with desire. I moaned in response, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath us as he lowered me onto the mattress.

His lips trailed hot kisses down my jawline and across my collarbone before moving southward. He nipped at my sensitive flesh while his hands explored every inch of my body, tracing patterns around my tits through the lace fabric of my bra. My breath hitched as his warm mouth hovered over my nipples, making them stand at attention.

"Please," I whispered, arching into him as he teased one of my hardened nubs between his fingers and thumb. His tongue circled around it before finally drawing it into his mouth, sucking on it with such force that I cried out in pleasure.

He pulled away slightly, looking down at me with a smirk that made my stomach do flips. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby girl." His eyes bore into mine as he slowly undid his pants, revealing his already hard cock straining against his boxers. My mouth watered at the sight of him; all 8 inches of thickness glistening with pre-cum that reflected the light in the room.

I reached up to grab his shirt, pulling him down towards me as I wrapped my legs around his waist again. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as he lowered himself onto the bed between my spread legs. His teeth grazed against my bottom lip before trailing hot kisses down my neck and chest.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he reached behind me to undo the clasp holding together my bra. It fell away from me revealing puckered nipples begging for attention which he eagerly obliged by taking one into his mouth while pinching the other between two fingers causing tiny whimpers to escape from deep within me.

His lips trailed down my stomach, stopping momentarily to press kisses to my belly button before continuing their journey south. I shivered with anticipation as his fingers hooked into the sides of my lace panties, pulling them down and off of me in one swift motion.

He took a moment to admire me, spread out before him, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze traveled over every inch of me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, before diving back in between my legs. His tongue flicked against my clit sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I gripped onto the sheets tighter as he continued to tease and lick at my most sensitive spot.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, his expert mouth bringing me to the brink. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he pulled away with a smirk on his face.

"Not yet," he said huskily, crawling back up towards me. He kissed me hard on the lips while positioning himself between my legs. I felt his tip brush against my entrance and I lifted my hips in response.

The room around us was hazy from the scent of our arousal, and I couldn't help but feel like I was in a dream as he continued to tease me. With every lick and nip, his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through me. My body arched off the bed in response to his expert ministrations, my breasts pressed against his strong chest.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, his voice dark and rough with need. His hands slid up my thighs, teasingly close to my aching desire before moving away again. It was driving me crazy!

"Please," I begged him. "I can't take much more."

He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Oh, you think you can handle me?" He leaned down and flicked his tongue gently over my clitoris again, making me gasp in surprise at the intense sensation. "We'll see about that."

I couldn't believe how turned on I was by his dominance. As he continued to tease me, I imagined what it would be like to fully submit to him—to let him take control of my body and pleasure me however he saw fit. It was terrifying yet exhilarating all at once.

It felt like hours (or maybe just minutes?) before he finally eased himself into me, filling me up with his thick cock. I gasped at the sudden intrusion but moaned in delight as he began to move slowly inside me. Every thrust sent violent shudders through my body as we found our rhythm together—his hard and demanding possessions; mine willingly given submission underneath him amidst silk pillows and warm blankets scattered across the sheets beneath us.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me, wanting more, needing more. His hands gripped onto my hips, holding me in place as he continued to thrust into me with increasing speed and force.

I could feel the pleasure building inside of me, growing and swelling until it was almost unbearable. My nails dug into his back as I cried out his name, consumed by the intensity of our union.

He leaned down and captured my lips in a fiery kiss that only added fuel to the fire burning between us. Our bodies moved together in perfect synchronization, reaching higher levels of ecstasy with each passing moment.

The bed rocked beneath us as we gave into pure primal desire. He was an unstoppable force, taking everything from me and giving it back tenfold.

"Fuck," he groaned against my lips, his voice thick with need. "You're so tight."

"Oh, God," I moaned, my toes curling against the sheets. "Don't stop."

He didn't listen to me of course; instead, he continued to pound into me relentlessly, driving me towards the edge again and again until I couldn't take it anymore. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, consuming every ounce of my being and leaving me shaking in its wake. He followed close behind with a muffled groan as he spilled himself inside of me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us gasping for breath as we came down from our high.

We lay there tangled together for a few moments before he rolled off of me onto his side. He pulled me against him, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

"Wow," I finally managed to say.

We lay there panting for several minutes afterward, our heartbeats echoing in our ears above everything else around us.

Finally, he disentangled himself from me and collapsed next to me on the bed, both of us spent and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Fuck," he breathed out as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

"That was..." I trailed off unable to find the words to describe the intensity of our union.

He let out a bitter, exhausted chuckle laced with satisfaction. "I swore I'd never marry again, but if this is what life could be like on a regular basis, I may have to reconsider," he muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of committing himself again brought a surge of both fear and longing, but for the first time in years, he felt alive.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, he turned to me with a mix of vulnerability and determination in his eyes. "I never thought I'd find someone who could make me question my own convictions," he said softly, reaching out to gently touch my hand.

I looked back at him, her own eyes filled with understanding and a hint of mischief. "Maybe it's time to rewrite those old promises," I suggested, a smile playing on my lips.

A sense of peace settled over him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, he was ready to take a chance on love once more. With a hopeful heart and a newfound sense of purpose, he whispered, "Maybe it is."

As the last rays of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon, their eyes locked and they both felt an electric current surge through their bodies. It was a sign that their journey together was just starting and would be filled with endless twists and turns, but they were ready for the challenge.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

Text

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply.

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her.

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct.

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.”

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.”

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension.

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window.

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled.

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #ewan mitchell #michael gavey saltburn #satlburn michael gavey #saltburn #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #satlburn fan fiction #satlburn fan fic

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tater-tots-thoughts · 2 months ago

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Summary: You and Tom made a bet over who would be the first to break and touch or kiss the other, but when you have a panic attack mid-day, Tom is more than willing to be a loser just to help you.

Warnings: Panic attacks, swearing

Stupid idea, you think bitterly as you take your aggression out on your keyboard, typing a furious response to your coworker as a pounding headache behind your eyes nearly brings you to tears from staring at the screen for too long. Today you and Tom had the terrible idea of seeing who could last longer without touching the other, and quite honestly, you were prepared to deal with Tom’s gloating and smirk just about now. You wished for nothing more than his comfort as you struggled with your uncooperative superiors and boss. Today, there had been a huge website crash, and you were struggling to help get it up and running again before you lost major sales and shipments. You sighed as you sent your last email, confirming that you’d spoken to a big client and cleared up the issue, assuring them everything would be up and running shortly.

Sighing again, you stood up to stretch. This was the most stressed you’d felt in weeks, and Tom could sense it too. Sitting back down, you refocused and worked for several more hours before you heard Tom knock on your door.

“Come in,” you called hoarsely.

He walked in with a steaming cup of tea in hand and a small smile. He set it next to your computer.

“Milk and honey, just how you like it.”

You smiled at him, appreciating his small thoughtful gesture, though just looking at him made you feel like your emotions were about to boil over any second.

“Ready to give in yet, love?” he teased, smiling at you. He had no idea of your situation at work since you barely had time to even use the bathroom. He’d assumed locking yourself in your study would be a more effective way of refraining from him. Though now he could sense your mood—obviously stressed and exhausted. His smile faltered.

“Everything okay?” he asked slowly, concern in his eyes, hands clasped before him.

You shook your head, feeling the awful sting and knot in your throat as tears began to brim in your eyes.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, hurrying over to your side, the bet now long forgotten as he fell to his knees by your chair and wrapped his arms around you.

You could barely breathe, let alone explain everything that had happened. All the anxiety, dread, and anger seemed to be controlling your body as it constricted your lungs. The world spun around you, but not in the slight swaying way it does when you’re a little dizzy—it was in a way that made you feel sick if you opened your eyes. You had no idea how long you sat there. The only thing you were trying to feel and focus on was Tom’s voice and his hands cradling your back and head as he rocked you gently.

When you opened your eyes again, the world wasn’t spinning. You were on the floor now, awkwardly but not uncomfortably cradled into Tom’s chest. He was still talking, coaxing and calming you from your attack, his hand stroking your hair comfortingly. After five or so minutes, you could feel your breath falling back to normal, though Tom held you as tightly as ever. You pulled away to wipe tears from under your eyes.

“Sorry,” you choked out.

“Hey, what did I say about that?” Tom said firmly. “Don’t apologize for things that make you upset. I mean, what even happened? Was it me? If it was me, I didn’t mean it, I swear. I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, no, not you. Definitely not you. Just… work. The website crashed, and everything kind of went to hell.”

“Oh, hon,” he sympathized, pulling you close to place a kiss on your head.

You were now lying in bed. With the help of your team, the website was back up and running. All that needed to happen now was shipping to get the information, but that wasn’t your department, and so none of your concern.

“You lose, by the way,” you said, smiling teasingly.

“Mm?”

“You touched me first.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Tom said nonchalantly. “I won’t hold you to the fifty bucks, though, ‘cause I guess you did kind of need my help.”

He chuckled along with you and poked you in the side. You giggled and pushed his hand away.

“I’d lose for you any day.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re so corny.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Adult Education Part 11 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica finally tells someone what happened with Brian, and maybe Jake would be just as understanding if she told him. With the fraternity fundraiser a few days away, her nerves start getting the best of her, but Jake continues to show how effortlessly he can make her happy.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing, frat boys 18+

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jessica felt so much better and yet emotionally drained at the same time. She spent almost thirty minutes telling her friend what happened with Brian, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that the other woman wasn't judgmental in the least. When Jessica was finally done talking, she sank back in her chair and fixed her glasses.

"So, yeah... that's why he's holding a grudge. That's why he won't give me tenure even though I deserve it."

She was met with a stony expression. "Just say the word, and Conley is going down. Have you... mentioned this to Jake?"

"No," Jessica replied immediately, her skin itching at the thought. "No."

"You should," she replied slowly. "I think he'd be surprisingly attentive, and I say that a bit begrudgingly."

Jessica cracked a smile as she grabbed her empty tupperware container and stood. "I'll think about it, Dr. Tits." She left the office to the sound of genuine laughter, but by the time she got back to her office, she felt exhausted. It wasn't fair that Brian had taken up so much space in her brain for so long. When Jake texted her and let her know he couldn't make it to her office hours, she felt almost relieved.

The fraternity fundraiser was this Saturday, and she'd planned everything out as much as she could. Everything was checked off her list, and she was going to meet with the Kappa Pi students at their house on Wednesday evening. The only thing she hadn't done was log into the university portal and see how many tickets had sold for the event.

Alumni weekend was a huge deal, and it was well attended and advertised, but she was still dreading checking. So she finished all of her classes for the afternoon and then ducked into the lounge to make herself a cup of coffee before her office hours started.

She looked up as someone else entered, and it was Brian's teaching assistant. The one he was almost definitely sleeping with. "Hi," she said cautiously.

Jessica just nodded at her. She wanted to warn this poor girl, but it was obvious that Brian had her in a similar position to which Jessica had been in last school year. Plus, she already knew he'd make sure both women paid the price if she did.

It was with tears in her eyes that Jessica returned to her office. That hopeful feeling from lunch was gone now, and she really wished Jake was able to stop by today after all. She plopped down at her desk and decided to just log in and see how poorly her ticket sales had gone.

"Holy shit," she muttered, nearly spilling her coffee. Over one hundred tickets had sold, and the event was still days away. "Oh my god." Tears welled up in her eyes as she did the math quickly in her head. Her event would make over five thousand dollars for the school. Hopefully the fraternity house would be able to hold that capacity.

When her phone vibrated on her desk, she was startled from her thoughts.

Jake Seresin: I miss you too much. I can't stay long, but I'll be there in ten.

She didn't even bother to respond, but she was waiting by the open door for him when he rushed down the hallway. "Jake," she said with a soft laugh as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. He was still wearing his flight suit, and he was a little out of breath.

"I missed you," he whispered against her lips, and that made her a little bit out of breath as well. One big hand slid down to her butt as he said, "We had late training days sprung on us for today and tomorrow, and I volunteered to pick up dinner. I talked them into the Thai restaurant down the block from here." Then he froze as Jessica ran her fingers along his patches. "Were you crying? It looks like you were crying."

She shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, but it's not bad." She smiled more as Jake kissed along her cheeks. "A ton of tickets sold for my event on Saturday."

"How many?" he asked, looking at her with pride.

"Over one hundred."

"Damn, you're good, Baby."

Jessica was looking up at his handsome features and his sexy smirk while he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb lazily along her bottom lip. She kissed his thumb before licking him, and when his eyes went wide, she laughed. "You can't stay?"

He shook his head. "I'll come back on Thursday. We can go to Chippy's after your office hours?"

"Yeah," she replied, tracing his HANGMAN patch. She could already hear Luca's skateboard on the tiled hallway floor, so she needed to be quick. "Do you want to sleep over on Friday night at my place? We could head to the event from there on Saturday? I could... show you the lingerie in my closet?"

Jake groaned softly, and goosebumps rippled down her neck as he asked, "Will you let me pick out something pretty for you to wear?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed as she pressed her lips to his neck. "Anything you want."

"Yes," he gasped, and then you heard Luca whistle.

"Get it, Dr. Reed," he said as he kicked his skateboard up into his hand. "Want me to come back later?"

"No," Jessica said as she disentangled herself from Jake's wandering hands while she blushed. "He was just leaving," she said. Then she looked up at Jake's green eyes and wide pupils. "You were just leaving."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he kissed her lips softly and said, "Call me later tonight. I'll see you on Thursday."

She watched him rush back toward the elevator before she closed her door behind her. "How many times do I have to remind you not to skate in the hallways?"

"Sorry, Dr. Reed."

"Get out your notebook."

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

When Jessica heard a knock on her office door on Wednesday around dinnertime, she called out, "It's open." Really, she was on her way to the Kappa Pi house, and she hadn't left herself much time to deviate from her agenda. Hopefully whoever this was would make it quick, but then she smiled when she realized who it was. "Advanced Calculus. What's up?"

"Just wondering if you were looking for someone to tag along? I speak fluent 'frat boy', and Bradley is training late with Jake."

Jessica was shocked into silence for a beat. "Yeah. I would love that. I'm actually a little nervous about meeting them."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You've got boobs and a pretty face. They'll be eating out of your hand, literally doing whatever you want them to."

"I'm not so sure," she replied with apprehension. But when they walked across campus to the old Victorian fraternity house with KAPPA PI on the front of it and knocked, Jessica was pleasantly surprised.

A lanky guy with bad acne opened the door, and his eyes bugged out as he looked between the two women. "Dr. Reed?" he asked in awe.

"Yes, that's me," Jessica replied, reaching out to shake his head before introducing him to the other professor. When he made no move to do anything except stare at them, she asked, "Can we come in?"

"Y-Yes. I'm James by the way."

Jessica led the way inside, and she was pleasantly surprised again. The front foyer opened up to a rather cavernous living room and dining room. There were beautiful hardwood floors and rich paint colors and a fireplace. The house was clean, and she was sure the kegs and tables would fit inside without issue once the furniture was moved out onto the back lawn.

"Your house is so clean! Where are your fraternity brothers?" the other woman asked, and James blushed bright pink.

A few minutes later, there was a lineup of a dozen or so guys staring at the two women. Their expressions ranged from surprise to bewilderment, but there were two on the end who looked like they just won the lottery.

"Okay, hi. I'm Dr. Reed from the physics department, and I actually recognize a few of you. Calvin?" she asked, smiling at one of them. "From last semester?" He waved awkwardly back at her. "Right, well, I'm your advisor for the alumni event this weekend. I have a list of things you need to do before Saturday at six o'clock." She started passing out copies to each of them as she read off the list. "Move the furniture. Clean the kitchen. Fill the keg barrels with ice. And so on. Any questions?"

Five hands shot up, and Jessica stepped back in surprise. "Here it comes," Advanced Calculus muttered as Jessica pointed to the smirking guy at the end.

He nodded at Jessica and asked, "If I switch my major to physics, will you be teaching all the classes?"

"Um, no," she answered, shaking her head in confusion. Then she pointed at the one next to him who had his hand raised.

"Do either of you need a date for Saturday night?" he asked eagerly.

Jessica snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. She was about to answer when her friend said, "Both of our dates are in the military. And they're jacked. And they're mean."

A chorus of boos and groans filled the space, and Jessica had to try her best to answer the relevant questions without laughing. She showed the boys where to move the furniture, and she inspected the kitchen. Then she checked to see if there was enough room for the string quartet next to the stairs. She was determined to deliver on the elevated frat boy aesthetic since so many people seemed excited about it.

"I think we're done for the day," Jessica told the guys with a smile as they fought over who got to escort the two of them back to the front door. "My email address is at the bottom of the list if you need to contact me for anything." A bunch of hands shot up in the air, and she added, "Anything pertaining to the event. If you try to ask me out again, I'm just going to delete the emails."

The guys lowered their hands and mumbled goodbye as the women stepped back out onto the silent porch. "Jessica, all those boys are going to sign up for your lectures next semester. I guarantee it."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "No, they won't. If anything they'd sign up for yours!"

But she was laughing as she walked down the steps to the sidewalk, and Jessica followed behind her in her high heels. "Just wait until Jake sees the twenty one year old kids with acne trying to flirt with you. He'll get jealous and pouty, I can practically see it now."

Jessica scoffed. "No, he won't! And didn't you meet Bradley when he was twenty one years old and in a frat?"

She froze on the sidewalk as that familiar blue Bronco parked on the next block up. "I sure did. And prepare yourself. Bradley is going to be insufferable on Saturday night."

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

Jake could only really focus on Jessica. After that brief couple of minutes in her office before Luca arrived on Tuesday, he was sweating it out until he could get home and jerk off. He came all over his hands in the shower as he thought about coating up her glasses instead.

Now it was Thursday morning, and he leaned against the shower wall and thought about what kind of lingerie she might have in her closet. He hoped there was a little bit of everything. He could imagine her in something soft and white, almost ethereal. He could just as easily picture her in some leather with a riding crop. His groan filled the glass shower enclosure as he wrapped his hand around his cock again.

He realized by the time he finally started getting dressed that he was going to be late if he didn't seriously get a move on. He was just buttoning his uniform shirt when his phone lit up on his bed. Jessica had sent him an image. His fingers abandoned the buttons so quickly to grasp for his phone. And holy shit, his hot girlfriend sent him a picture of a dark purple lace bra and thong laid out on what must have been her light blue bedding.

"Fuck," he grunted as he glared down at his cock. He really didn't have time to get hard again right now. But... he was curious, so he wrote back.

You wearing that today, Jess?

She didn't respond until Jake had parked his new truck on base, but this time, she sent an up close photo of the tops of her breasts hugged by purple lace. He was practically drooling as he ran for the locker room with his bag.

Keep 'em coming, Baby.

He decided to keep his phone on him. It would be worth getting reprimanded. She sent him a handful of filthy looking photos as the day progressed, but it still wasn't enough. She must have taken a bunch of them in the morning before she left for campus, and Jake was so thankful.

He had to adjust his uniform pants several times that evening when he walked from his truck to her office. On his way into the building, he passed a delighted looking Bradshaw and his wife on their way out. She was practically hanging off of him as they walked, and Jake heard her softly ask, "Okay fuckboy, you want me to get your Beta Gamma paddle out when we get home?"

Bradley froze and met Jake's eyes as his cheeks started turning pink. "Hangman," he grunted, and his wife spun to face Jake with a coy smile.

"Hi, Jake," she sang as she reached for her husband's hand. "See you on Saturday night."

It was hard to still feel jealous of what they had when Jake knew what was waiting for him a few floors up. He took off toward the elevators, and then he walked as quickly as he physically could to Jessica's office. Two taps on her door, and she was pulling it open for him. He did the briefest glance around the room to make sure she was alone before he closed the door and backed her up against it.

"Are you trying to send me to an early grave?" he whispered, his voice sounding a little harsh as he smiled softly at her. But his smile vanished immediately when he felt her hand run slowly across his thigh before she cupped his length through his khakis.

"I just thought I'd keep you entertained while you were at work." She gave him a little squeeze, and Jake bucked against her hand. He glanced down to see that her soft sweater was the same purple color as her underwear, and she had on a little black skirt and black heels. He kissed her forehead and then her nose as he grabbed her ass with one hand and pushed her hair back behind her ear with the other.

"You kept me hard while I was at work. That's what you did, Professor Reed." Jake wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed along her jaw softly. She gasped as he used his other hand to slowly bunch her skirt up until he could feel the round of her bare ass cheek in his hand.

"Jake," she whined, making it sound like three syllables instead of one as her hands slid up and around his neck. He kept his hand on her neck gentle and his kisses light as he grabbed her ass and slipped his fingers inside the back of her thong. "Jake!"

Her hands were grasping at his hair as he kissed her ear and rubbed his erection against her sweet body. "You're gorgeous. You drove me crazy all day. You know that? You did it on purpose?"

"Yes," she gasped as he sucked gently on her neck before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"Mmm," he hummed quietly as he panted. "You gonna let me see that pretty purple set?"

Her voice was an obscene whine that left him grinding against her harder as she moaned, "Yes!"

And he couldn't help himself as he pressed the softest kisses along her jaw and ear and asked, "You gonna let me fuck you hard on your desk?"

Jessica's eyes were wide, and her glasses had gone crooked on her face, but he kissed her lips after she said, "Yes." Her hand reached out to press the lock on her door, and then Jake carried her to her desk and set her on the edge. Her eyes already looked blissed out as she spread her thighs wide and hooked both of her feet around his calves, pulling him closer.

He tipped her chin up so she was looking at him, and then he took both of her soft thighs in his hands as she kept eye contact. "I'm crazy about you," he murmured as he pressed himself against her core. Then she pulled her sweater up and over her head before tossing it to the floor. Now her glasses were really crooked, and her hair was a mess as she reached for the fly of his pants. Jake was lost to the feel of her hand gripping his length as she pushed his pants down. Then she released him and leaned back on both of her palms with her lace covered tits thrust alluringly toward him.

"Fuck me," she commanded in her teaching voice. "Fuck me hard on my desk."

"Jesus Christ," he cursed, guiding his hands up her thighs, pushing the fabric up until that little skit was around her waist. When he tugged her damp thong to the side, he was treated to the sight of her wet pussy all ready to go. She ran her high heels up and down his thighs until he grabbed her behind the knees and thrust himself deep.

Jessica's jaw dropped open as Jake held her legs in his hands and fucked her hard, his thrusts relentless as she started to whine. He gritted his teeth, the obscene slapping sounds of his body meeting hers filling the room as he watched her pussy take him. Her tits were bouncing beautifully each time he filled her, and she just kept getting louder.

"Someone's gonna hear you," he warned, his voice a growl as he braced his feet a little wider apart on the floor. "Someone's gonna come knocking if you're not quieter, Jess."

She pressed her lips together and whimpered loudly in response as he continued to fuck her, rocking his hips into her body, his balls slapping her ass. Maybe he just didn't give a fuck if someone heard. Maybe Jake didn't care who knew that he was getting Jessica off on her desk right now. This was his girl, and she was a professional teaser. Even the way she was gripping him so tight with each stroke was too much. Her body was made for him, the way she responded to him like this.

"Jake," she keened, extending the syllables once more as he ran his hand down her calf and lifted her leg so he could kiss her ankle. The shift in position had her squeezing around him while she eased herself onto her back. Jake watched her lace covered tits bounce as her hands grappled for something to grab onto. She held the edge of her desk as she came undone for him. A few more sharp thrusts, and Jake pushed himself deep, filling her up with his cum. And once again, when he withdrew himself, he got to watch the mess he made drip down her ass only to collect on her thong before dripping to the desk.

When Jake looked up along her body, Jessica had herself propped up on her elbows with a serene smile and crooked glasses. He leaned down over her and kissed her. "I got a little carried away," he whispered as he ran his fingers through her hair and squeezed her thigh.

She looked impossibly sweet as he fixed her glasses, and she said, "I plan on getting carried away with you tomorrow night when you sleepover."

He devoured her mouth, but the kisses turned lazy and unhurried. Eventually Jake helped her sit up again on the edge of her desk, and he took in the sight of her rucked up skirt, purple bra and his cum between her thighs. "Let's get you cleaned up, and I'll take you to Chippy's."

"Sex on my desk and Chippy's? Today just keeps getting better," she said with a laugh as Jake grabbed some tissues from her shelf and wiped up her desk and picked up her sweater. Once she was in his arms, he pulled her shirt over her head and helped her wiggle her skirt back down.

When he zipped up his pants, he told her, "Why don't you grab a journal or two to take with us? We can read it together over some Sam Adams and peanuts."

Jessica's eyes lit up, and she actually clapped her hands. It was the cutest fucking thing he had ever seen in his life, and he watched as she clicked across her floor on her heels to the shelf. "I love that," she murmured. "Great idea, Jake."

He loved it, too. He loved everything about her. She was so smart and beautiful, but she was funny, too. She wasn't clingy, and she had a fascinating career. She didn't need him around, but she seemed to light up when he was, and that's what left Jake a little breathless as she turned and looked at him with two journals in her hand. "You ready?"

Jake kissed the slight bruise he left on her neck on the ride down the elevator. When the doors opened, Brian Conley was there arguing with a young woman, and he felt Jessica tense up in his arms. "It's okay," Jake murmured against her hair. Even though her posture remained a little rigid, she let him take her by the hand and walk out into the lobby, and Jake absorbed the glare that Brian shot their way so Jessica didn't have to.

He'd had just about enough of that asshole, and the next time he witnessed Brian being a dick or if he heard his girlfriend complain about him again, Jake was probably going to lose it. But as soon as they were inside the dive bar, Jake noticed that her shoulders seemed less tense, and she smiled as soon as Chippy waved to her.

"Hey, Reedy."

"Hi, Chippy."

He started pouring two pints as he shot Jake the look of warning that he'd become accustomed to; it was almost a part of the experience now. But the bar was absolutely packed tonight, and Jessica held his hand a little tighter as she stepped around peanut shells on the sticky floor. There was only one high top table free with only one stool at it.

Jake kissed Jessica's cheek and nudged her in that direction. "Grab the table while I get the beer and peanuts?" She took off in that direction, and Jake headed for the bar.

"So. You're here to stay then?" a disgruntled Chippy asked as he shoved a bowl of peanuts next to the pint glasses.

Jake tried to reel in his surprised laugh. "Yes, sir. I'm not going anywhere."

Chippy grunted as he took the twenty dollar bill from Jake and made change for him. He slid the bills across the bar but kept his hand on them. "If I so much as see you with another woman or see tears in that girl's eyes," he said, nodding toward Jessica, "you'll never see the inside of this bar again."

Jake waited for him to pick up his hand, and then he took all of the bills except for a few singles. "Understood." Then he could tell he'd been dismissed when Chippy started waiting on the group next to him, so he took everything back to the table where Jessica was perched on the stool.

"Literally all of the seats are being used," she told him, but Jake set everything down and then pulled her into his arms.

"Just means I get to hold you, then." He sat and then helped her onto his lap, and she settled on his thigh while he kissed her cheek and the side of her neck. "This is perfect."

Her cheeks were a little flushed, and Jake could smell himself on her as he wrapped his arm around her, letting his hand settle on her hip. This gorgeous woman was wearing panties soaked with his cum and calmly opening one of the physics journals to share an article with him. "Oh, you'll like this one," she told him, smiling over her shoulder before pointing out the title on the page. She thought he was smart, and she seemed to like having him around outside of bedroom activities, too.

"I'm sure I will," he replied, kissing her shoulder as he listened to her tell him about jet propulsion in a newly designed aircraft.

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

Intelligent, self aware Jake is ruining me a little bit. Brian is a dank ass little bitch. Please send asks if you'd like to see a certain type of lingerie in her closet. Frat fundraiser is up next. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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qwimchii · 1 year ago

Text

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 5) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 pt 6

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.3k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘢, 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦?, 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

note: i had no idea that i posted this almost an entire WEEK AGO?? istg it was only 2 days ago 😭 sorry for the wait lovlies, here's some unhinged content for you ❤️

the next few weeks passed in a dizzying flurry. work became busy and you got caught up between group work and your personal life—an old friend from college visited town, your mom and dad’s memorial service passed in a flash, and you worked at the halloween costumes, carving a few little pumpkins every now and then as decor for the church stands. the halloween festival was just hours away, and there was another group meeting scheduled just before it.

you dreaded it.

Simon and you had not spoken once outside of the meetings. just polite remarks and a yawning chasm that cleaved the space between you. to say it was awkward was an understatement.

you thought back two weeks prior when you were isolated in the church basement.

you didn’t mean it?

yeah. none of it.

the memory was a splintering reminder that Simon didn’t want you. at least, not in the way you wanted him. retracing the footsteps of your mind over and over, you tried to figure out where you had gone wrong.

maybe from the beginning, you thought bitterly, failing to forget your rude, blunt behavior towards him. you guessed you deserved his treatment, though you didn’t expect him to make fun of you the way that he did.

have you never dated before? do you even know how to kiss someone?

just the thought of it made you wince as you entered the meeting room, later than usual. a dozen faces stared back at you, and Kate stopped mid-talk, eyes narrowed with something only you could decipher as worry. you just mumbled a quick apology, settling in your seat in the circle across from Simon, avoiding his eyes.

Sarah nudged you with her foot in greeting as Kate continued whatever talk she was going on about. out of habit, you half-tuned her out as Maya pat your knee softly.

from what you absorbed out of the random bursts of Kate’s words, the group met early to set up the stalls in front of the church. there’d be a costume rack, photo booth, pumpkin carving booth, face painting, and a couple tables for the bake sale—which wasn’t really a bake sale, but free baked goods because it was sinful to sell on church property, or something like that.

the church did the same events every year so none of it surprised you till Kate was saying, “now get dressed into your own costumes.”

what?

that was definitely new, you realized with a stiffness, looking around the group moving toward the exit of the meeting room with bags of, what you assumed, to be costumes.

when you didn’t budge, Sarah and Maya standing and grabbing their own things, they both paused, giving you curious looks.

Maya called your name in question and you just stayed stock still in your chair, feeling like life was being drained from your blood.

“oh my gosh,” Sarah said, a slow, impish smile spreading over your lips. Kate’s head immediately snapped up from her desk, looking pale and panicked.

“what? what is it?”

Maya pointed at you. “you didn’t bring a costume.”

your voice was high strung and tight. “i didn’t know we needed one.”

Sarah laughed out, long and airy, before gliding out the meeting room, absolutely beside herself.

Kate sounded peeved. “did you not look at the email chain?”

email, you thought, a stale taste in your mouth, who the fuck uses email these days?

Maya offered you a look of sympathy. “maybe run home really quick?”

Kate stood at her desk, just shaking her head. “don’t worry. i planned for this.”

she shooed Maya away and tugged over a plastic box from her desk, popping open the lid. inside it were an array of outfits.

she gestured to it. “pick one.”

sighing, you crouched down and pulled out the first costume that caught your eye—a greenish, white airy dress. turning it around, you realized floppy wings were already sown into the back of it.

snatching up your purse, you tucked the dress under your arm, about to make a beeline for the bathroom when Kate clutched your elbow, pulling back to her.

with a muffled noise of surprise, your brow furrowed at the pinched look of concern over her face.

“halloween is your favorite holiday,” she chewed out, “why aren’t you acting like it is?”

“what?” you spluttered. technically, halloween was in two days. the festival happened just prior.

you could’ve been a smart ass about it, but instead you bit back the retort, because you knew what she meant. usually, you’d be ecstatic the whole month before halloween. but these days, only a circling, endless pit of dread followed you to sleep, and was still there when you woke every morning.

“what’s wrong, hon’?” she pressed and you just shook your head with a laugh, lying through clenched teeth.

“nothing.”

you knew she didn’t believe you for a second because her grip only tightened on your elbow. “is there something going on between you and Simon?”

your gaze widened for a split-second, before you blinked it away, eyes darting away from hers. “of course not.”

she just scoffed. “like hell there’s not.”

you rolled your eyes. “not in the lord’s house, Kate—”

“listen to me,” she said, jerking you closer to her, and you muffled a yelp. “if there’s not something wrong with you, then there’s definitely something wrong with Simon. he was doing better. now he’s… acting strange.”

you cocked a brow at her. “he’s always a bit strange.”

she eyed you in return. “not as strange as how you’ve been acting.”

“ouch. that hurts,” you deadpanned, shaking free from her grip. she relented with a low grumble.

rubbing at her temple, she sighed as you turned from before, stopping you when she said, “just smooth out whatever’s going on between you. he’s going back for work soon.”

your blood ran cold. “what?”

“he won’t be on leave for another couple of months, so i suggest you talk to him today,” she said, moving to her desk.

you stared after her, wanting to ask more, but bit down on your tongue when a couple girls, chattering between each other, returned from the bathroom.

in their stead, you trudged down the hallway and into the old bathroom with a flickering, artificial lighting burning down overhead. in a stall, you stripped yourself and shimmied into the dress, the cheap fabric grating against your skin, but you wouldn’t complain since this situation had arisen due to your own fault.

moving past a couple other girls by the sinks, exchanging a couple words with them, a genuine smile twisting your lips, but then you looked at yourself in the mirror and almost cringed. the dress was a lot more revealing than you would have ever chosen for yourself in public—hugging at your body in the way your baggy outfits did not.

Iris stepped out of one of the stalls, whistling lowly. “lookin’ good, girlie.”

with a blush, you mumbled a thanks, digging around your purse for your makeup bag that you, thankfully, had shoved into your purse on a whim before work that morning. opening it, you began to apply a thing base, then soft shimmers around your eyes, attempting to look as fairy-like as you could.

“who are you trying to look good for?” Iris asked beside you, squinting into the mirror to brush mascara over her lashes.

with a bitter feeling, you noticed its brand. dior.

you choked a strained laugh, waving her off. “just the endless line of ladies.”

“right,” she sang, and you flinched when she put down the tube of makeup with a loud clunk against the porcelain sink. “‘cause you and i both know that you’re lesbian.”

you paused at that, brushing away the last bits of powder on your face. through the mirror, the girls behind you, Iris’s friends in the group, had fallen silent.

you glanced at her through your peripheral. “what do you mean by that?”

she turned to you, lips screwed in a thin line, hand on her hip.

“how long have you been fucking Simon for?”

jaw dropping, and you turned to look at her, taking in the intensity of her hot glare and the angry twitch of her features.

you should’ve denied it, but remembering the way she clung to Simon after the night of the party, all bashful and talkative with him, your own anger simmered to the surface.

“none of your business,” you said in a cool voice, turning back to the mirror to finish with a light blush over your nose and cheeks.

she scoffed. “you’re a bitch.”

your brows twitched together, and you reached up to rub at the spot, willing it away. “okay.”

she stepped towards you, jerking her hand up so it almost knocked against your face, the tip of her acrylic pressed to your cheek.

“you always complain about how much you hate men, but as soon as you go near one, you’re start fucking them.”

you completely ignored her. “i don’t know what you’re talking about. why do you care about my personal business?”

she laughed, long and mirthless. “because you’re airing it out at every meeting, whore.”

you screwed your eyes shut, an icy feeling churning inside you. this was exactly what you were afraid of when new members joined the group. your simmering anger rose to a boil, and you swallowed the heat down, trying to lock it down in your stomach.

“don’t you have a husband? maybe you should pay more attention to that cheating bastard than a random guy you met at a support group.”

“excuse me?” she seethed, and you couldn’t help but give her your most shit-eating smirk.

“what? too boring being a housewife, doing nothing all day long? fucking men for money—”

the noise she let out was carnal, raking a hand through your hair and jerking on it hard, so your head pulled back with a painful snap. the girls behind you screamed, and a blur of a person rushed forward to clutch tightly at Iris’s neck and push her off you.

“you bitch-ass, motherfucking whore—”

your jaw dropped at the sight of Maya slamming her against the tile wall, clawing at each other like two rapid cats before Sarah stumbled through the scene from a bathroom stall, screaming bloody murder.

one of Iris’s friends came up and fixed the state of your dress and hair, apologizing profusely for her friend, and you didn’t know whether to be angry at the girl, or thank her, as Iris’s friends scurried out of the bathroom quickly. you felt like you were in a daze, watching Iris drag Sarah by her hair before Sarah reached up and ripped through Iris’s hair so they were locked between each other, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

Maya was clutching at the wall, gulping down mouthfuls of air before she limped over and stomped on Iris’s open-toed sandals with a ferocity. she screamed, crumpling to the floor, releasing Sarah from the bind as she fell to her knees.

the three women stilled for a moment, panting with effort.

“what in the actual fuck…” you trailed off, unsure what to say after the scathing events of the fight.

Sarah’s hands were on her hips, knees looking wobbled as she rasped between gasps, “we couldn’t let this whore bad-mouth you like that.”

she jerked a thumb over at Iris who had braced herself against the floor, leaning over her palms with heavy, gasping breaths.

Maya stumbled over to you, wobbly on her heels, and you enveloped her in a hug, trying to smooth out her hair to the best of your ability.

“you guys…” you started, choking up when tears brimmed at the edge of your eyes. Maya only hugged you tighter and Sarah limped over, cooing softly as she joined the hug, squeezing you tight.

“don’t ruin your makeup,” Maya sniffled against your shoulder, your dress absorbing her tears.

you quickly wiped at your face with a nod, clutching at Maya and your other hand holding Sarah’s cheek.

when Iris stood, leaning against the bathroom sink, the hug broke apart.

she glared at you, clawing the hair from her face. “are you done?”

sending Sarah and Maya a quick glance, you gave them a curt nod, and they obliged, stomping out of the bathroom. Sarah turned to flip Iris off on her way out, the latter girl just rolling her eyes at the sight.

when there was silence once more, you turned to the girl, taking in how disheveled and… normal she looked for once.

“your hair—” you said, pointing to your own head, and she whipped around to look in the mirror. hastily, she scrambled around for her brush but you just sighed and picked up your own on the sink, stilling her with a light grip on her shoulder. you brushed through her brunette curls with a soft hand as she glared at you through the mirror.

“let’s talk,” you offered, putting down the brush when you were done. “and let’s be civilized about it.”

she hmphed, not looking at you. “what is there to even talk about?”

you shrugged. “clearly, something is bothering you.”

“yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “your relationship with Simon.”

you bit back your own retort to remind her that she was married. “we’re just friends.”

her brow quirked at that, looking unconvinced. “really?”

“for now,” you said with a nod, and her shoulders deflated.

“i knew there was something going on,” she said, sounding morose, eyes flickering with a distant haziness.

“you could’ve just asked me,” you sighed out, and her eyes snapped to yours again, flashing with irritation now.

“i did.”

how long have you been fucking Simon for?

at the memory of it, you flinched. “maybe more politely next time.”

she just huffed, brushing out the wrinkles of her witchy dress. “you won’t tell Kate about this?”

you scowled at her before, slowly, your lips twitched into a devilish smirk. her eyes darted nervously through the mirror, inching away from you.

“i won’t, because we played fair and square today.”

“what do you mean?” she chewed out, voice icy.

“you got to talk shit, and my girls fucked you up,” you said with a nasty grin, wholly enjoying when she shivered.

stepping away from you, she cleared her throat. “right.”

it was like she remembered where she was and who she was again, gathering her things and shoving them into her stupidly expensive bag with a poised expression. you watched in amazement at the calm, collected veneer that overtook her in a second, turning on her heel to strut out of the bathroom with an elegance before jumping with a shriek at the entrance.

you quickly trailed after her, rounding up your things in one, sweeping armful and shoving them into your own purse, your eyes moving up the way her spin shook to the sight over her shoulder.

a foot away, a man stood in front of the women’s restroom, a white, plastic skull outer layer over a black balaclava. at the sight of him, you muffled a squeak, bristling with shock.

but then your eyes trailed down to the rest of his attire—a sweatshirt, jeans, boots, and… gloves. skull ones, in fact.

“Simon,” you deadpanned, glaring at him from over Iris’s shoulder, “what the hell are you doing?”

“this is Simon?” Iris shrieked, shuffling backwards, knocking into you.

“i heard screaming,” he said, voice gruff and slightly muffled under the mask. “is everything alright?”

you rolled your eyes. he was a bit late for that.

“everything’s fine,” you confirmed, gently pushing Iris out the doorway. she squeezed past Simon, not giving him or you a second glance as she rushed down the hallway and into the meeting room.

the hulking man stared after her, before turning his head to blink down at you. even under that stupid mask, his big brown eyes were still the same.

“what happened?” he asked and you just shook your head.

“you really don’t want to know.”

he let out a low noise of disapproval and you waved him away, edging forward so he stepped further back into the hallway.

“there is one problem though,” you said, cocking your brow at him.

he stepped forward again, reaching a hand out to you, but you just shook your head again with a huff. “that mask.”

suddenly, his eyes pinched, and he reached up to trace the divets of the outer skull layer.

“what’s wrong with my mask?”

the genuine hurt in his voice had you smothering a smile. “nothing. just not for children. you can’t wear that at a church halloween event.”

he was silent for a long moment, eyes narrowed like he was weighing the pros and cons of what you had just said, before sighing out.

“fine,” he grumbled, unclasping the front of it and pulling off the baclava, leaving his hair slicked up in a strange, messy clump.

biting back a laugh at the sight, you made your way back down the hallway. Simon’s careful footsteps were just behind you as you stepped back into the meeting room.

the girls were loitering around for a bit, gathering up needed materials to set up the booths. Sarah and Maya chattered with the better half of them who were blissfully unaware of what had just gone down in the bathroom. Iris eyed you from her posse carefully, watching you move near Kate with a tenseness, but you just passed her, instead moving to the box of adult costumes. you rummaged around in it, struggling and failing to find any size that may potentially fit the massive man.

groping around at the very bottom, your hand closed around something small and prickly, and you pulled it from the box with a snort, eying it in your hand.

turning around, you shoved it against Simon’s chest, and he didn’t even flinch, just taking the thing from your hand slowly.

“no,” he said immediately.

“it’s the only thing we have,” you said, sighing out, gesturing to the box behind you. Kate looked up from her desk curiously now, eyes flitting between you and Simon, then seeing the thing in his hands and choking down a laugh.

he glared at her from his peripheral, his scowl deep when he tugged it over his head.

a smile tugged at your lips, and you pressed them together, failing to hold back a little giggle at the sight of the tinsel cat ear headband on his head.

“adorable,” you cackled, slapping two hands over your mouth, trying to muffle your laughter beneath your palms but you couldn’t cease the shake of your shoulders.

his scowl only deepened, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grumpy look.

Kate hummed approvingly by your side, failing to keep her voice even. “looks great, lieutenant.”

he shot both of you a glare before slinking away and taking a seat nearby, but not before he was flanked by some of the girls fussing over his costume. they insisted on painting a nose and whiskers on him in loud, sharp demands and he didn’t even try to hide their irritation with them. but nonetheless, he relented, and Sarah pulled out her liquid eyeliner.

you watched the whole scene with shaking trembles of silent laughter, crumpling into a seat near you, and he kept glaring at you from his peripheral. once your laughter subsided, you leaned back into your chair, the sight of the girls pester him, full of laughter, and the smallest smile stretching Simon’s face had your chest feeling full of gooey content. he lazily looked over to you, a small black nose and whiskers across his cheeks, dark eyes sparkling as his warm gaze ran over you.

cute, you mouthed, pointing at your own cheeks and he just scoffed, turning his gaze from you, but his smile only widened.

yeah this part's kinda crazy (and maybe borderline cringe?) but iris had it coming for her so idkkkk—

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gtgbabie0 · 2 years ago

Note

hi, i love ur writing ! could u do where leon compliments reader and reader is like "u dont have to say that, u know i am not beautiful" basically like reader being insecure, then leon comforts her and showering her with compliments. :) 💗

-Leon Kennedy x reader

Thank you for the request my lovely! Hope you enjoy! 💕��

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You’re wrist deep in cookie dough, kneading it under your palms with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows as you let out little huffs, Sherry had a school bake sale and you were more than happy to help offering to bake her some cookies.

Leon always admired that about you, the way you were so kind and caring, you’ve helped him a lot through these past couple of months and he thinks you’re just perfect, inside and out.

He walks over to you, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear, “Hey beautiful” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek while you roll the chocolate chip-covered cookie dough into balls.

He doesn’t miss the way you wince slightly at the nickname, how you seem to go in on yourself, you’ve been like this for weeks now, avoiding his touches, even at night you seem to sleep further away from him, he hates it.

“Hey, do you think two batches are enough? Or should I do another?” You ask trying to divert the conversation in a different direction, Leon notices the way your eyes seem to be fixed on the cookie dough, “I don’t remember how many children are in Sherry’s class”

He can see the concern that laces through your eyes, and he knows the worry goes far beyond Sherry’s school bake sale, there’s something much deeper in the way, something that makes you brush his love off.

“I think two batches are plenty, Sherry’s gonna be over the moon,” he says, noticing that you haven’t preheated the oven as he turns it to one-eighty degrees, “You wanna go grab some dinner after you’ve finished pretty girl?” He asks frowning at the way you wince.

There’s that look that flashes over your face again as if his words are venomous, and it breaks his heart, and he dreads to think about the horrible words you’re telling yourself.

He stands there for a moment, watching as you put the second batch of cookies in the oven thinking about how to approach this because, in all honesty, Leon doesn’t know how long he handled this distance you’ve wedged between the pair of you.

He waits until you set the timer, washing your hands and drying them off, until talking to you letting out a sigh as he prepares himself.

“Can we talk?” He asks, leaning against the countertops, his eyebrows pinched together when you don’t look at him.

“Sure, what is it?” You turn over to where he’s standing, arms crossed over his chest.

His hands go to rest against your hips, and he hates the way you seem to flinch from his touch as if his hands were poison against you, his chest tightens at the way you nibble on your bottom lip as you push away from him.

“What’s going on? Talk to me” he says, his tone soft and caring and it makes you want to burst into tears because the last thing Leon deserves is the way you’ve been treating him lately, constantly pushing him away every time he reaches out for you.

And you hate how much power your insecurities hold over you, hate how it’s now affecting your relationship, it kills you.

“Hey, don’t cry angel,” he says, noting the tears that fall down the curve of your cheeks, and you squeeze your eyes shut, you felt so undeserving of such a sweet nickname.

You shake your head wiping your tears, “Don’t do that Leon” you cry, wrapping your arms around yourself, and he looks back at you with confusion.

“Do what?— y/n?” He asks, trying to understand why you were suddenly so upset, “Hey, beautiful tell me what’s going on?” His hands go to reach out for you but you’re quick to push them away.

“You don’t have to keep saying it, I’m not- I’m not beautiful or- or pretty, so just stop— please” and he swears he can feel his heart shatter, the remnants poking in his throat, and it’s hard to listen to your sobs.

He doesn’t know how to approach this, he’s terrified of making it worse but the way you hold yourself as pitiful sobs escape your lips breaks him in ways he never thought possible.

“Can— can I hold you?” He asks, relief washing over him as you nod whispering a small ‘okay’ and his arms wrap around you holding you close to him as he lets you cry into his shirt, his hand soothing your back.

“I’m sorry Leon, I’m just scared- I’m scared that you’ll look at me the way I do” you mumble and he shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your temple. It pains him to know that you look at yourself with anything other than kindness.

“Sweetheart, hey look at me,” he says, hands cupping either side of your tear-stained face.

“I love you- so much it’s scary, and I need you to know that okay? You mean the world to me” he promises, with such a loving look in his eyes and you can't find the heart to doubt his words.

"You're the most perfect person in the world, so beautiful inside and out, and god, you're so pretty, so so pretty, you- you leave me breathless" he smiles at the teary chuckle that leaves your lips.

You smile back at him, and you know there isn’t much he can say to erase your insecurities, it’s a deep-rooted problem you have to face alone, but the way he showers you with his love helps more than he’ll ever know.

“What can I do to make it better? Anything and I'll do it” he asks, you let out a breathy giggle and you almost convince yourself he’s not real, he can’t be.

You reach up to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, and you slowly come to realise that, Leon really does love you and it was foolish to think otherwise, “There’s nothing really, just be patient, and don’t leave me” you murmur resting your head back against his shoulder, he hates that he can’t help you more.

“I’ll never leave you, ever” he promises, a gentle hand smoothing over your hair as he holds you against him.

“I’m sorry for being so awful to you, m’sorry for pushing you away,” you tell him with a slight wobble to your voice.

“You don’t need to apologise, you just gotta tell me what’s up, yeah? That’s what I’m here for” he tells you and you let out another wet, teary chuckle nodding your head and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

A minute passes by, as you both stand there holding each other before the timer goes off, and Leon pulls away as he takes out the cookies, and you can tell by the look in his eyes that’s he tempted to take one.

“Don’t even think about Leon, these are for Sherry’s bake sale” you remind him, as he still admires the delicious chocolate chip cookies.

“I’ll make another batch just for us” you wink, bumping your hip against his as he moves out of your way, and he smiles at the way you don't move away from his touch when his hand falls to your waist, you giggle at how he stands behind you watching intently as you put the cookies into little individual bags, fancy ribbon and all, and he can't help but think just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 11 months ago

Text

hi it's the good omens mascot here's some shit about me that might be relevant

I appear to have accidentally caused chaos so I figured you might as well know about me since I'm responsible for it. And also so that you know who you broke, thanks ineffable fandom.

I have been called the prophet by some of you all. This is not entirely untrue, but I would like to add as I did in one post, that Apollo also gave me the curses of art, (very emotional) music, (sometimes good mostly dreadful) poetry, (same parentheses apply, except that the dreadful is on purpose) writing and (used to be good now dreadful) medical knowledge, and so yes, you did accidently adopt a messenger of an ancient Greek god.

Yes, this entire entry into your cult happened from start to now happened in 48 hours.

This will seem less bizarre when I give you context about me and fandoms. I changed career paths (after three years of intense study that cost me my sanity) from science to the arts because I was inspired by drarry fanfiction of them leaving their ministry jobs and following their dreams. Yes I tossed three years and my loss of sanity away in one week of decisions. I'm now a designer. Thanks Draco.

I read so much drarry fanfiction that my mum had to take me to the hospital for injured wrists. I wore wrist and elbow supports and was in constant pain for a few months. I was only later introduced to autoscroll. Yes, I am a fool. Yes, I am unaware of how to human.

I'm broke and cheap enough that I feel guilty buying bottled water, but for Christmas I spent the equivalent of around 150 bottles of water getting a Bakewell tart custom made (they don't sell them where I live). Why? Because in one single fanfiction, it is Draco's favourite food. I would never spend that kind of money on a dessert for any real human being.

That is to say, you all are not ready for when I REALLY fall for Crowley. I don't saunter vaguely downwards for people. I bypass earth and crash into hell, leaving a smoking pit in its infernal ground.

I swear I'm not as dumb as I seem, I just have ZERO general knowledge, and am terrible with faces. I can tell you what the graffiti on the walls of Pompeii from before 70 AD said but I don't know who my previous president was, and personally I think that's very classy of me.

Some of you seem concerned about my sleep schedule. Worry not, I sleep in four installments, night, morning nap, afternoon nap, evening nap. I sleep more than you all, that I can promise. I sleep more than my doggy sister.

About the streams and the timezones, I have no idea how to make it so people can watch, because I frequently mix up east and west and last morning I mixed up the Pacific and Atlantic ocean. I don't know at what point the Eastern hemisphere becomes the Western or how any of it works. I also thought Wakanda was a real place.

But hey fun fact, in 2020 diclofenac sales were dropping in Iceland. I know this because I wanted to make sure to use the correct painkiller in one sentence of a story I was writing. It was completely irrelevant. But hey any of you writers here probably feel my pain. I don't write fanfiction, but I am an author and I write original stories. And honestly what is more useful, Icelandic diclofenac sales from three years ago or timezones?

A career test once told me to be a standup comedian.

Yes that's me Asmi, just your regular dumbass lad who is slightly unhinged, serving himbo twink energy, hello hi nice to meet you all. PS: the poll results are out and Doctor Who won, so tremble, DW fandom.

#good omens fandom #good omens mascot #asmi #weirdly-specific-but-ok #this is me y'all #good omens brainrot #thanks for breaking me i figured you should know about me #crowley #just crowley i'm going to shatter soon #drarry #draco malfoy #fandom culture #fandom things #doctor who #dw fandom #more inaccurate summaries coming up #good omens #fanfiction #and how it ruined and saved me

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months ago

Note

Currently you're sitting at a table with your master, waiting on your meal. You have complicated feelings on Nebul. He doesn't necessarily treat you badly, he takes care of you but that's because you've been cooperative, you've seen him less gentile…..

The chef walks on by dragging a man screaming and wailing. His eyes look searching for someone, until they fall on you.

“Help me!” He looks at you with pleading eyes. “He's going to kill me!”

You are no savior, you have no power here. You look down at your lap, hearing his cries for help become more and more distant. Dread and despair grows in your heart.

[I can write this out from his perspective.]

Nebul enjoys pets like you.

One might glance at him and think that perhaps the trainer would prefer a real brat. Someone who stomps their feet, bitches and whines and spits. The kind that just won't take it lying down and nearly breaks themself in their effort to be free of his controlled dominance.

But they'd be quite mistaken.

Nebul loves a pet who instantly recognizes their place. A darling thing like you, smart enough to realize that you have no chance of ever escaping intact, and thus, become subservient to your rightful master. You know Nebul will protect you, will provide for you, because you're learning to be the perfect pet he's training you into on a daily basis. There's something just insanely satisfying and obscenely arousing about your immediate submission to Nebul, he savors it slowly, preens you, makes sure you'll last him long.

Many were the tests you've been subtly subjected to since your time under his care. Some were elaborated to get a feel for your character, others for the amount of progress in obedience and loyalty you've developed. The undead quickly adjusts his methods depending on your performance, though you've been nothing if not stellar thus far. Very impressive, very good.

This moment is both another test and a reward. You have earned yourself time outside of the shop, time watching others, pretending to be a member of a community. Not that this particular community sees you as anything but a breathing toy, but he knows it's enough to bring a semblance of comfort to a contact-starved psyche like yours.

See, tonight you're having dinner at The Clergy's restaurant. And the place is quite packed, much to Nebul's distaste. His organism, unalive and magic-riddled, may not require food, but yours sure does. Nebul did take the care to make sure you will not be ingesting "human products", as he already ordered your meal a fair bit ago. Now, he's just making idle conversation and attentively mapping your reactions to seeing so many monsters ogling you like a steak. At certain times, it feels as if you want to sit next to him on the ground, where you have correctly learned is safest, and he glows with pride.

Many a client have stopped by and wordlessly pointed at you, every each one receiving a polite and consice explanation that you're not for sale or a free-use treat. He relishes the dread in your eyes, but even more so the relief. Gratitude that you had been picked by the wraith, and not some uncaring, sadistic entity looking to rip you open.

Yes, the sooner you understand how good you have it here, the sooner you'll drop silly ideas of escape and freedom.

Your rhythmic fidgeting with the silver tag of the collar around your neck is harshly interrupted by the sound of the closest elevator parting its doors, and a very angry monster stomping out, dragging a badly injured human man by medium-length hair.

Nebul senses the way your breath catches and a spike of adrenaline makes you pale, eyes wide, so tense you might pop.

He diverts his attention to Morell. The chef looks more than agitated, genuinely irate. It's not likely that the human actually managed to place a dent on that cinderblock of a monster, but it is a possibility that it outsmarted the chef in a moment of stressful workflow. And that, Nebul knows, will have the shroom smashing through furniture.

" Fuckin' pig! Ah was gonna make it smooth for ya, make it fast, ya wouldn' even feel much- "

The chef's apron is smeared with splatters of blood, what Nebul thinks might be some kind of sauce, and a decent chunk of dirt from the messy chase. The man, on the other hand, is bruised on the face and limbs, one hand bent at a bizarre angle and his ankles most definitely crudely twisted to a mockery of a ragdoll.

Even through the immense pain the undead can sense emanating from this human, the resilience commonly associated with this species shines clearly, as he screams and tries ever so hard to claw the mushroom monster's skin. Broken nails fail to so much as scratch the calloused pudge of his executioner's fingers, who are so tense around that mangled arm it might just explode.

He tries still, he tries, and will continue to for as long as his organism can supply a powerful dosage of adrenaline.

The mostly pointless squirming does succeed in one thing however, getting on Morell's nerves. Predictably, the chef turns around just enough to land a powerful steel-toed boot kick right to his middle, making the man wheeze like a dying animal. He seems to zone out for a moment, probably due to the immense pain wracking his body.

He doesn't zone out enough to miss you, the only other human present.

Nebul expected his frantic screaming, and he can't lie, part of the undead was looking forward to seeing how you'd react in a situation like this. Do you have any kind of wit in that cranium? It seems you do, because even when he's dragged by, pleading with all the remaining breath in his lungs for the help of his kin, for salvation only you can provide, you hardly react.

Aside from a light twitch of the limbs, as if you're trying to guiltily swat a mosquito away, you hang your head and focus on your intertwined hands on your lap. Your stare glazes, losing its alarmed quality, and your breathing becomes steady. You're effectively out of the scene.

Good.

Very good.

Morell makes an apology gesture towards the shopkeeper when he realizes that's the table he just walked past, eyes lingering on you with morbid curiosity before he slams the kitchen doors open and drags the drained human inside.

Nebul doesn't let you dissociate for too long. It's not the first time he's seen you do this, but he needs you quite present for this feedback. A grasp upon said clasped hands gets you to inhale sharply, shaking a bit. You glance at him with fear, as getting distracted in certain moments can earn you punishments.

" You've been performing exceptionally well. " He purrs. " With such exemplary behavior, you're on the fast track to perfection. Pets like you deserve rewards for their discipline, and you will get one once we're done eating. "

You nod hastily, fidgeting on your chair while you try hard to ignore the stains of blood on the floor.

Nebul's mist swirls playfully. " Now, what do we say? "

" I'm sorry, Master- Thank you, Master. "

" Very good. "

#Nebul oc #tce rp ask #Morell oc

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morgue-ratt · 10 months ago

Text

Pretty in Pink, A Valentine's Day Fic

Strade x Reader// NSFW// 2.6k Warnings: blood, torture, noncon, wrist trauma,

YOU wonder where Strade goes when he leaves the house. It’s only once or twice a week, he has everything delivered and he works from home. Still, the hours when he’s gone are a slight reprieve, even if this time he had left you locked in the basement.

You know immediately when Strade is home, the door upstairs slams and you jump. His footsteps are heavy and getting closer and your heart fills with dread; his excitement is never good for you. You try to will yourself to calm down but any hope of that is gone as he flings opens the door at the top of the stairs. Oh god, he went to the hardware store. If that’s the case, it’ll be a long night with you and whatever new toy he found to extract his pound of flesh.

“Liebling,” He calls, his voice light and friendly. You can feel your heart in your throat as he comes into view. “I’m home, did you miss me?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “I brought you something!” He holds up a pale yellow, paper bag and your eyes narrow. You can see the lavender tissue paper lining the bag, clearly it’s not from the hardware store. More like a little botique. He’s down the stairs now and he shakes his head. “Silly me, did I forget to tie you again after this morning?”

“What did you bring?” You ask, your heart pounding. Just because it wasn’t from the hardware store doesn’t mean it can’t be used to inflict evil.

“Aw,” Strade rubs his thumb over your cheek and you wince. “Do you wanna see your present, Hase? It’s almost Valentine’s Day, you know.”

“Valentine’s Day?” That does catch you off gaurd. You have no way of knowing how long you’d been here but... Valentine’s Day. Febuary. Nearly a year. It’s staggering. His collar around your throat suddenly feels heavy.

“Yes!” Strade beams. “So I brought you something... special.” He shoves the bag into your hands and looks at you expectantly. “Well? Open it!”

The bag is light, which gives you some hope that it isn’t something to inflict pain. Still, you stall as long as you can before you have to look inside. “Valentine’s Day.”

“Look inside,”

You pull aside the lavender tissue paper and you feel almost... sea sick when you realize what he’s brought you. You take out a light pink baby doll dress and a matching pair of lace panties. There’s a slit going up the front of the dress, stopping just at the chest with a tiny ribbon bow The whole thing is made of soft, sheer fabric with delicate lace around the edges.

“Oh... Strade,” You should be releived that he wasn’t planning on cutting you to pieces but the dress makes your stomach churn. “That’s... so sweet of you...”

Strade was grinning at you like you were something to eat. “Put it on.”

“What?” You choke.

“The sale’s lady was very nice, she helped me pick it out. Now put it on.”

You know that tone, it’s the same one he uses when he orders you to cut yourself. It means do it or else, even though to anyone else it would still be playful. You don’t want to put it on, the idea of making yourself pretty for him makes you almost wish for the hammer. “Okay,” You say quietly.

“Ah, Liebling. Don’t look so sad.” He runs his hand through your hair and you shudder. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You don’t like when he promises things but you know arguing with him will only make things worse. You take a step back from him and look down at the dress. It’s so strange... this is probably more expensive than anything you have ever would have been able to afford but as you put it on, the silky fabric makes your skin crawl. You stood before Strade in the dress and panties and he gives you that horrible smile again.

“Oh, Hase, look at you,” Strade purrs, you can feel his eyes comb over you and you cross your arms over yourself, looking down. “Aw, is my Liebling shy, hm?” He laughs. His laugh is always bright, it’s only sinster because of how you know him. “I have another surprise for you.”

Your heart sinks as he turns towards his work bench.

“No, Strade,” You can’t keep the panick out of her voice as he opens a drawer and pulls out a handful of nails.

He laughs again and as he works, he hums a little tune. “There’s no need to be so... nervous.” Strade turns around, hoisting a bright yellow nailgun in his left hand.

Of course. It will never just be a pretty dress.

You start to back away. “I don’t--”

Strade doesn’t seem to care, crossing the basement in two strides and putting his free hand over your mouth. “Shush, shush, it’ll be fun,” He says again.

You’re looking into those... strange golden eyes so you don’t see when he suddenly kicks you in the shin. You fall to the ground and in a second, he is on top of you; his knees on either side of your ribcage, digging in slightly.

“There we go,” He says, leaning in so far you can feel his breath on your cheeks, his greasy hair hanging around your face. “That wasn’t so hard, huh?”

Strade’s hand moves from your mouth down to your throat. He’s smiling down at you, he can see your fear and he knows you well enough to know when you’re holding back tears. He traces his fingers over your collarbone. “You’re just so... pretty.”

You try to shift under him and his free hand jumps to your left arm, pinning you to the concrete floor. “Strade,” You try but you’re silenced when you feel the barrell of the nail gun pressing against the skin of your forearm.

He grins when he sees the fear on your face, finally his eyes light up with that usual sadistic glee. “Hase,” He purrs just as he pulls the trigger. Your forearms explodes in pain as it cuts through skin and muscle to the concrete below. You don’t even scream, the sound you make is closer to choking on your own siliva. In fact, you don’t scream until the second nail hits bone. When you do, Strade leans even closer to kiss you, effecrively cutting you off. Your tears stream down your face and into your mingling mouths. He pulls back to mutter something in your ear (“Du gehörst mir.”), but you are barely aware of anything except the nails in your arm.

He pulls away, your mouth feels dry. You turn your head towards your arm and the sight makes you ill; they’re long nails, at least eight inchs. Your breathing gets faster and Strade notices;

“Excited, Liebling?” Strade asks, brushing the tears off your face. He brings the nail gun to your other arm.

“No,” You say quietly, trying to shake your head. Strade brings the barrel of the gun to your wrist. “No, no, Strade--” He pulls the trigger and you scream again. You try to twist away but it only causes the nails to tear through flesh.

“Oh... oh, darling;” Strade puts the forth nail in, right below the crook of elbow. He’s enjoying this, your screams and your refletive attempts to get away that are only bringing you blood and pain. He’s elated.

You’re sobbing so hard you could barely see him. He flicks the nail in your wrist curiously and you can only whimper. He leans down and kisses you, it was slow and deep and it would have been... sweet. Strade pulls away slightly, kissing the collum and your throat and your eyes flutter closed. Maybe he’s done, maybe his bloodlust is satiated, maybe--

You shriek when Strade suddenly sinks his teeth into your collarbone and your eyes fly open. “Look at me,” he muttered, his face buried in your chest before he bites you again, even harder. His mouth is covered in your blood, he watches it flow down from the wound like a cat watches a bird. Strade drags his hands through it and you watch, horrified, as he starts to draw hearts on your stomach and throat.

The sight of your red only spurrs him on. Strade sits back on his haunchs, no longer looming over you, but only to undo and pull off his belt. You know what’s about to happen, you knew the moment you saw frilly pink lace. You feel it, wrapped around your body like miasma.

The sound of Strade’s zipper cuts through the haze your feeling, dull alarm bells go off somewhere in the back of your mind. Strade’s calloused fingers loop under the waistband of the pretty pink panties and pulls them down. He’s being careful, he doesn’t want them to tear, unlike soft skin of your forearms.

There was enough blood on Strade’s hands for him to use it as lube, you watch with lidded eyes as he runs his fist down the length of his cock, staining it red. He disgusts you. In fact, you didn’t realize how close fear and disgust really are until you ended up here.

Strade pushes his way into you but it’s the least of the pain you’re feeling. It almost feels... nice, until he ruts into you. You move with his thrusts, causing the nails to pull through your flesh; your forearms, your wrist and your elbow. You can’t help but cry and again; “St- Strade, please.”

“Shush,” Strade looks... hungry. He thrusts in harder than before and you scream. “Yes, that’s it.” He says quietly. He grips your hips as he sheathes himself fully inside you, watching as your face twists in pain. “Does it feel nice? Do I make you feel good, Liebling?”

His mistakes your cries of pain for moans of pleasure, or perhaps he doesn’t care. Strade bares his teeth, the glint in his eyes is paralyzing. You can’t breathe, your tounge is heavy in your mouth. He kisses you hard as his hands creep around your throat without actually choking you.

Strade is crushing you into the concrete, all you can smell is his him; sweat, beer, grease and metal. You can tell he’s getting close, no doubt your tears are helping him get there, he licks them off your cheeks, leaving your face coated in saliva. “Hase,” He breathes, his lips against your ear and he pants. He’s going faster and faster and you can’t hold back your desperate screams as the nails slash and pull through your flesh. “Mein süßer kleiner Hase,”

One final thrust causes the nails in your forearm to rip further through your skin. He finishes as your scream echoes through the basement. You’re sobbing, your heart is pounding so hard in your chest you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it to. Strade lays on top of you, breathing heavy and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel his smile against your throat. “Oh, Liebling,” He just lays on top of you his head resting on your chest as you cry softly. He doesn’t seem to mind, he’s watching you as he reaches up to wrap a lock of your hair around his finger.

You loose track of time. Eventually, he gets up off of you and your eyes follow him. Strade goes over to his work bench. “No” You say, your voice soft. “No...” he only laughs as he pulls someone off the pegboard. You shift your hips but you can’t do anything more. “Stop...” You’re almost whining at this point. He turns around, holding the hammer. “No,” you shift away as much as you can.

Strade settles on top of you, keeping you caged between his legs. He brings his fingers to his lips and you fall silent. You don’t even blink and he grips the hammer. He brings his free hand to your left arm, pushing it down onto the concrete between the two nails there. He uses the claw of the hammer to pull out the first nail and you let out a strained choking sound as the nail pings against the floor.

“Shush...” He purrs, prying another nail free from your flesh.

He’s... helping. He’s hurting you but it’s only to help. You met his eyes and try to even out your breathing. You sound like you’ve just come up for air as he claws the nail out of your wrist and your fingers twitch. The sound of the nail bouncing off the floor echoes in your head. You barely feel the last nail as it’s exhumed from your elbow. All you can do is sigh as Strade collapses on top of you yet again. You feel his stubble scrape against your cheek as he whispers;

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Liebling,”

#btd #boyfriend to death #strade #strade btd #strade x reader #btd x reader #frenzy scribbles

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