#waiting in a long ass line for a coffee

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole��” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Home Bliss | The Salesman x Wife!Reader |

Summary: He may be a psychopath but he pouts when his wife does not respond his messages.

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Suggestive - Soft moments - S1 Salesman personality with S2 personality - Obsessive!Salesman - Soft!Salesman

He liked to follow a routine, wake up besides you, your soft snores filling the room and your sweet natural aroma.

Take a moment to aprecciate your features, face, body, see the marks he had left behind after a rough night of sex.

If some were fading away then he would take a mental note to give you some new ones later.

Then he would move, letting you sleep some more, sometimes he would nudge you so you two would shower together, an activity he enjoyed a lot.

Washing your body, feeling the soap against your skin, water falling between your breasts and down your collarbone.

Did it lead to him being late becuase he could not control himself under the image that resembled a goddess? Yes.

But he never cared, he made it up by getting the double amount of names crossed from his list.

Preparing his briefcase for work was a private act, the password for the safe know only by him, even if the content itself was not grotesque, he prefer for you to know very little about what he did for work.

After it he would have breakfast with you. A black coffee with no sugar and a red appel, you would often make some bread for him, another thing he loved. Home coked food. He would teast the love you poured when making it. And would leave the house feeling full and loved.

Oh, and with a kiss. He could never leave the house without getting a kiss from you.  A sweet long kiss, soft lips and cold hands caressing his face and hair.

And that look, a look that made him feel less of a monster and more human, a look only someone deep in love could give.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

The Salesman had just ended another day at work and at the park where he would entertain himself by offering bread or fair tickets. Most would choose the second and find out they had lose.

After it he would go to a near bakery and buy some sweet desserts for you, he knew how much of a sweet tooth you had.

He pulled out his phone while he waited for his order, pouting when he saw no new messages from you.

What was his little wife doing?

Were you mad? He did not notice something different in the morning. You acted as you usually did, doting him like he was a starved man for affection.

For your affection? Maybe he was. But only yours.

Was about last night? He knew he was quiet rough, harder than most nights. He could not help himself when he saw you in one of his old shirts, showing your precious legs to him and your half closed eyes.

You looked cute and hot after a nap, he always told you to not wait him awake if he told you he was going to be late. But you were admant about it and wanted to see him before sleeping.

So, instead of going straight to sleep he had took you to his special room, where he showed you just how aroused he was, how much he liked pushing your limits. Making you scream his name and cry. Licking your tears and edging you over and over. Pain and pleasure blurring the line, as he spanked you, making you count and thank him for them.

Oh, your red ass looked so cute with his printed hand on it, he could cum in his pants by it.

Of course he also made you ride himself while he kept a strong hold on your neck, giving you different pressure, cuting out the air that went to your lungs and then letting you breath. He loved to see your eyes roll back, when he would hit that special spot inside you with the sensation of lost air.

Your life was in his hands and you gave him all the control over it.

Even if you were too tired this morning and with more marks than usual...he knew you had liked it.

So no, that could not be the reason.

"Order six!!"

Well, he would have to return home and see for himself what was happening.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Back at home the kitchen was a mess. You had decided to prepare your husband a well deserved dinner (even if walking did hurt like hell). In order to focus your phone was long forgot in your bedroom, were it rested with messages from him.

Not like you could know, too focus in the task at hand, the rice rested in a near plate, the meat being made at medium just like he liked it.

A small salad was also ready and waiting, you even went out to get a nice wine for both. Friday nights were the best nights to get drunk together.

It was all ready, you made your way to the dinning room, serving the plates in a fancy way, two glasses full of red wine.

You checked the hour and nodded to yourself, he would be home soon. You still needed to change.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

The Salesman opened up the door of his home, he frowned when he noticed the lights were off.

Slowly he moved towards the dinning room, were a flick of light was coming from. He started to get worried, did someone break in and hurt you? Just the idea sent rage into his body.

His lips formed a thin line, eyes now sharp and calculated as he walked in.

As he circle the corned his worried flew away, there you were, drinking a glass of wine, wearing his favorite clothes just for him and with the smell of home made dinner that made his heart beat fast and his body relax.

"Love, I kept texting you all day" He greeted going to hug you and kiss your head. "Why did you not respond?"

He gave you a pout, his eyes sad, he was a lot of things and one of them was being a softie for you, his dear wife.

"I was making you dinner, left my phone away so I would not get distracted"

He nodded but still looked over you with worry.

"One, one text its all I need to keep going" He said in a soft whisper "Dont ignore me again"

You had to bite down your smile, for someone who could get freaky and even sadistic in bed, he also had his lovable side, a bit possesive and obsessive but still lovable and yours.

"It wont happen again, now why dont you get out from these clothes and join me for dinner? I did your favorite"

His mouth watered at the sight, he was indeed hungry, and seeing the food was making him even more.

"Of course my love, and later I will show you how grateful im for it" He smirked kissing your temple.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

[lukesaprince]

Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings:  SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight. 

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything. 

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise. 

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return. 

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible. 

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night. 

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders. 

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy. 

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about. 

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t. 

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window. 

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over. 

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin. 

You prayed it was only her being skittish. 

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet. 

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time. 

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell. 

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in. 

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived. 

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful. 

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience. 

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.” 

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds. 

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive. 

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him. 

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded. 

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating. 

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet. 

“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily. 

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him. 

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart. 

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside. 

You wanted to save him. 

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along. 

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you. 

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night. 

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it. 

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along. 

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected. 

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time. 

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you. 

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air. 

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh. 

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window. 

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word. 

Mine. 

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting. 

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that? 

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?” 

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up. 

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was. 

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release. 

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.” 

Shit. 

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.” 

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all. 

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin. 

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now. 

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street. 

But tonight… you knew. 

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew. 

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times. 

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it. 

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway. 

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky. 

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him. 

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.” 

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck. 

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip. 

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms. 

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.” 

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you. 

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it. 

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss. 

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue. 

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him. 

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds. 

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already. 

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.” 

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine. 

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped. 

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.” 

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away. 

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.” 

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his. 

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.�� It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world. 

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world. 

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?” 

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you. 

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.” 

All you could do was nod. 

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head. 

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth. 

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever. 

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny. 

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom. 

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you. 

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.” 

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him. 

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples. 

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday. 

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches. 

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever. 

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything. 

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp. 

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch. 

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face. 

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body. 

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert. 

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you. 

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face. 

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe. 

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling. 

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked. 

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy. 

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?” 

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word. 

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you. 

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine. 

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him. 

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?” 

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you. 

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him. 

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?” 

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern. 

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good. 

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you. 

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle. 

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way. 

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit. 

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore. 

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.” 

“Good.” 

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile. 

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you. 

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin. 

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed. 

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin. 

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.  

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil. 

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on? 

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again. 

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly. 

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room. 

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs. 

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name. 

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night. 

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder. 

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you. 

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual. 

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it. 

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible. 

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure. 

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again. 

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long. 

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…” 

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing. 

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it. 

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself. 

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge. 

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time. 

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever. 

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears. 

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back. 

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come. 

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling. 

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed. 

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him. 

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric. 

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of. 

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air. 

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you. 

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck. 

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

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[yieldtotemptation]

PROFESSIONAL ft. Bae

bae x male reader smut

8k words

For those keeping score at home, Bae Jinsol does appear to have the upper hand.

Not just because of who she is—the looks, the celebrity, the whole perfect package of it all; that's a dime a dozen in your line of work.

It’s how she haunts you.

The messages she leaves on your phone. The way she says your name.

The photos.

So, yeah. Despite the fact that you’re ostensibly just her personal trainer, and therefore, ipso facto, the ‘one in charge’; it’s becoming all too apparent that the balance of power in your relationship with Bae is, well, to put it simply, not exactly professional.

Which makes it no surprise that even though you’re at the gym a half-hour early; a black coffee in hand, ready to chase the one already running through your veins—she’s already there.

Stretched out like a cobra; hips to the ground, back arched, chest high.

Her reflection in the mirror greets you with a knowing smile.

Unsurprised. Unbothered.

Like she's been waiting for this—planned it all out. Down to the exact second that you’d walk in, discovering her in the centre of your private gym, splayed out in a pose chosen specifically to make you feel like you're intruding on something intimate.

Showing off the sharp planes of her abs, the muscles of her legs, the curve of her ass, and that dangerous strip of skin that makes you want to—

"Looks like I beat you again, sir."

You swallow. You somewhat regret giving her a personal key.

“Just getting warmed up.” Bae slithers out of the stretch, sinewy and fluid, turning over and around so she can properly face you; so she can properly present herself to you.

A glance—a gawk, really—has you rethinking your earlier assessment. Most of your clients are a dime a dozen. But Bae, looking at you, looking like that. Gorgeous, fit, unattainable yet somehow within your reach and daring you to do something about it—she’s a whole other currency.

She's been here for a while now, you can tell. Beads of sweat have started to slick her skin; over her brow, down her neck, pooling at the crevices of her collarbones. And the show she makes of wiping across her throat with the back of her hand, leaving a glossy sheen.

You ponder licking it off.

Long enough for her to catch you being unprofessional, again. To her credit, Bae just hums a note of amusement, gracious enough to let the moment pass as if it never even happened.

“You don’t need to do that,” you say, which could really be in reference to anything at this point. “We’ve got one hour. Warm-up included.”

“I know,” Bae answers, revisiting a long-standing argument, "But I like to be ready."

“Ready,” you echo, tasting the sound of the word on your own tongue.

“So that we can make the most of our time together,” She continues, twirling a peroxide-blonde curl around her finger, stirring up entirely inappropriate images of Bae, and her hair, and your hands, and oh God. "I only have you for one measly little hour, after all."

She lets the implication hang in the air, planting her flag (bright red, of course). It gives you an opportunity to take a long sip of your coffee; the burn from it sliding down your throat a welcome distraction.

You clear it with a cough.

"Well," you say, setting your mug aside and putting on the face of someone who isn’t severely compromised by Bae's casual, shameless attempts at whittling down your resolve. "Let’s not waste any of those precious minutes."

There's this grin on her face, as endearing as it is infuriating; and you can already hear the reply she’ll make before it comes, the way she’ll twist your honest words into lurid innuendo. Something with enough plausible deniability to keep it from crossing any lines of proper decorum you’ve tried to set, but pointed enough to blur them.

Something like—"Oh, I plan on making every second count."

You emphasise, “Exercising.”

Bae plays along, “What else would we be doing?”

More of this game, presumably.

The one you've been playing for the entire month you've known her, this routine you've established—you trying to keep things on track, do the job you’re actually being paid by her company to do; and Bae pushing back, pushing you as far as she can.

Trying, hoping, to inevitably bring you to that point where you break, where your veneer of professionalism finally slips away and you give her the type of workout she really wants.

You really should know better.

Should know to ignore the innocent requests to 'help stretch her out' or 'massage this cramp in her thigh'. Should know not to indulge the flirty banter; the 'oh, you're so much stronger than me', or worse yet, the blatant, 'but I bet you're not as flexible.'

You should have never let your hands linger, held her close when she asked you to correct her form, taken your time to navigate the curve of her hip, the small of her back, the slope of her legs.

Definitely should not have given her your personal number. Fuck, you should have blocked hers. Not read any messages, not even dreamed of replying. Not opened the photos, not fucking saved them and revisited them night after night after night.

(Because ultimately, the main party at fault is you.

After that first time, that first session; when you excused all the innuendo as coincidence, pretended the flirtations, the touching was just down to Bae being her normal, bubbly, extroverted self.

And then, when she convinced you to come into the shower because she just couldn’t seem to get the hot water to work, well—

Yeah.

Somewhere between making her moan your name and fucking her into the tile walls; you really, really should have known better.)

But today—today won’t be the day you give in.

The first time was a one-off, a fleeting lapse in judgment. Won't happen again.

You’re the trainer. She’s the client.

You have your clipboard, and your workout plan.

And Bae…

Bae’s biting her lip; blushing at you like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

“So, how do you want me, sir?”

(Bent over, on top, pinned underneath, from behind—you could fill the whole session with your long list of answers; but none of those are on the clipboard.)

You fight the urge to laugh, or scream, or maybe just drop to your knees and surrender.

Instead, you reproach, “Bae.”

“Sir.”

Laying it on thick; the innocence, the arrogance, the knowing in those doe eyes. Something she said to you once rattles in your mind: "Everybody needs an outlet, don't you think?"

Bae swings her legs around, tucking them under her so she’s on her knees. She’s looking up at you, those wide eyes and that even wider smile, sizing up every inch of you through her long lashes.

"I know what you're doing," you try, but it's not enough. Knowing is only half the battle.

"You do?" Bae's playing coy, keeping her tone light and breezy. "And here I thought I was just trying to be a good student."

A finger on her thigh, to dance along the hem of her shorts, peel it back just slightly, only to let it snap back into place.

“Clock’s ticking.”

There's a correct response here, you think, one that keeps you both on the straight and narrow. Not that you get a chance to find it, because Bae's leaning forward, placing her hands behind her back, pushing out her chest and arching her spine just so.

Her top stretches over her, a sports bra that’s somehow both modest and obscenely revealing; clinging to her—she’s filling it out, her nipples poking through like two little darts, demanding your attention.

She tilts her head, smirks, and it hits you like a sucker punch.

That’s the pose.

You’ve seen it; it’s been seared into your brain. The centrepiece of a photo that she so casually sent you in the middle of the day, just to ‘get your opinion on her progress’.

(Only then, all she had on was her smile.)

A sigh, because you know—this is it.

The last exit off the highway, the last chance to say no, to keep things strictly above board and not let this get any more complicated than it already is. But you’re nearing a wreck on the side of the road, and you can’t help but want to stop and look.

Fuck it.

Fuck the clipboard, fuck the workout plan, fuck not giving in. You can always try (and fail) again the next session.

Bae reads your mind. "Time for some cardio, then?"

“Get up,” is your answer. (A command, a plea).

She’s quick to rise to her feet, smugness gone, and in its place shameless glee as she witnesses you crack and concede defeat in real time. 

This is how you'll rationalise it:

There’s only one way to take back control of this situation. At her core, Bae’s an extremely simple person. She sees something she wants; she gets it. She’s a fire—all she does is burn hot, and the only way to keep her from turning your professional life to ash is to feed the flame.

Just enough to manage it.

You step closer, she takes a step back. You follow, each step, each sway of her hips a metronome set to a rhythm that says ‘yes’. She keeps backing up, leading you on until she’s seated on a bench. Placing her hands on her knees, pushing them apart, spreading her legs in a V; an open invitation to the space between.

You're not sure who's training who anymore.

Putting that thought aside—lines can be redrawn, boundaries reset. If you’re going to get some form of authority back, it’s not going to be with words. So, you do the only thing that makes sense in a moment that's lost all logic.

You lean down, take Bae by the chin, and you kiss her.

Something sounding like your name slips from Bae's lips as your tongues meet; as her hands find the back of your neck, pulling you in so she can lick into your mouth and get a taste of your morning.

Eager, greedy, demanding; full of all the pent-up need that’s been festering since that first encounter—when you had her creaming down your thighs and screaming your name. There's little tenderness to be found in the kisses, the licks, the nibbles that follow, you’re both too desperate for any kind of sweetness right now.

Bae’s hands are everywhere; peeling your shirt over your head, tracing the lines of your stomach, digging her nails into the meat of your shoulder. Your own hands are busy too—squeezing her thighs, cupping her ass, drifting up her skintight shorts in search of the heat that’s been keeping you awake at night.

"Took you long enough," she murmurs against your mouth, the words barely discernible but the triumph tinging them crystal clear.

An acknowledgment groaned against her lips, breaking away from the kiss to trail down her neck, licking away that spot you've had your eyes on the whole time. Tasting the salt of her sweat, the sweetness of her skin, revelling in the tang of the forbidden, the vanilla of the inevitable.

It’s some wonder, truly, of how a girl like her—all youthful glow and sharp edges, sculpted by both genetics and sheer force of will—wound up so utterly obsessed with you.

“Because of what you said when we first met,” Bae whispers in your ear, bites on the lobe, and you’re realising that maybe your thoughts haven’t been as silent as you assumed.

“Oh?” Is all you have to offer, because that memory is far gone, and your mind has far too little bandwidth to focus on anything that isn’t her wetness, seeping through the fabric of her shorts and staining your fingertips. 

The dampness—it's a dead giveaway. Yet you still ghost a thumb over her, press down just to confirm, make her inhale, sharp. And sure enough, there it is. Or rather, there it isn't.

The audacity.

There's a giggle from Bae as she feels you discover her secret; that it's just her shorts that are keeping you from being knuckle deep inside of her, and nothing else.

Bae recites your words back to you, only from her lips they’re far more honeyed, sticky and sweet against your cheek. "You said that you'd—ah—that you’d push me."

She’s sighing, melting into you, hips slowly grinding against your fingers, so achingly close to begging. Turning up the heat, you let your other hand glide up her abs, feel the need radiating from her, the muscles tensing and rolling with every slight movement she makes.

You’re reaching for her sports bra when she finds her voice, continuing through gritted teeth, "You said that you wouldn't take it easy on me."

Her breath stutters as your thumb traces the bottom of her top, fingers digging beneath her bra line. With one swift tug, the fabric's pulled away from her body, yanked over head in a blur of motion, leaving her breasts bare and heaving before you.

They’re small, yes, but the curve, the fit, the weight of them in your hands—just right.

“You said that if I—ah fuck—”

You can’t resist, really, your lack of self-control has been well established. So, you kiss her chest, licking a path through the valley between her breasts, drinking in the sweat that pools there, that little reservoir of desire.

“You said that if I tried hard enough, I’d be—God, yes—I’d be rewarded.”

Words, simple instructions you’ve given to countless other clients, but Bae. Twisting them, hearing what she wants to hear, or maybe what you intended all along? (Who’s to say.)

“You weren’t lying, were you, sir?”

You don’t have a response—what is there to say now, anyway? Any words would just be noise, inconsequential compared to the symphony of gasps and groans playing out between you both.

There’s a dusky pink nipple just waiting for your touch, all swollen and sensitive. You don’t disappoint. It’s in your mouth, rolling between your tongue and teeth, pebbling under the attention. It’s so easy to get lost in them, in their taste and feel, in her hands threading into your hair, pulling you closer, as if you need the encouragement.

You’re indulging in her, yes, but right now, there’s little you wouldn’t do to make her keen. Your other hand doesn’t rest; fingers are at work, pressing down, circling her clit through the nylon, making her arch up into you. These touches, swipes over her stiffened nub; she's falling into you.

Needy little sounds spill from her mouth, sweet nothings and half-formed pleas; bad things, dirty thoughts that most would regret ever even thinking, but of course, Bae only has the best of intentions. You’ve got her right where she wants to be; where she needs to be, and fuck she just takes your breath away.

You look up at her, feel her, and the absurdity of it all is dawning on you. To think someone like Bae would ever need training.

She was already perfect the first time you met her.

The long, pale-white expanse of her legs, all toned muscle and elegance. Her ass, the tight curve of it, fuller, rounder than should be possible on a frame so dainty. Her stomach, her thighs, her arms, (God, did you already mention her abs?), every flawless fucking inch of her.

A work of art, meticulously crafted by some divine hand; there’s nothing to be done by mere mortals except worship.

Let it be known the irony is not lost on you, when you let her nipple slip from your mouth and relay your next instruction: “Get on your hands and knees.”

Bae doesn’t need to be told twice.

With grace that’s far too practiced to be interpreted as anything other than a deliberate tease, Bae swings her body around, shifting her weight until she's on all fours.

Standing before her, watching the muscles in her back flex, her ass peeking out from beneath the elastic of her shorts. They’ll be ripped off entirely in due time.

But first, a kiss for your troubles. Over your sweatpants, branding you through the cotton as hers.

“Finally,” she breathes, making you swell, throb under her gaze.

Fingers hook into your waistband, pulling down your pants with ease. Your cock springs free, slapping across her lips, leaving a wet streak on her gloss. It shines.

A giggle, a raise of her bleached brows—like it’s a surprise. Like she hasn’t been made intimately familiar with your length; felt it buried deep inside her, painting her walls, her throat, with your release.

The tip of her tongue peeks out, just enough to swipe across the slit, to scoop up the pre-cum beading out of it. You hiss through your teeth, hips jerk forward, but Bae’s too quick—draws back with a laugh. She’s enjoying this, this little game of hers. The brat and the trainer, the cat and the mouse, the idol and the grown man who’s supposed to have his shit together.

“Tease,” you groan, your hands finding her hair, tugging gently to remind her of her place.

“Sorry, sir. Couldn’t resist.” 

A wink is all the warning you get, and she’s diving down.

No more preamble, no hesitation at all—Bae’s been waiting for this all fucking month, and she’s dead set on making up for lost time.

She’s taking you in, all of you, all at once; her mouth stretching wide to accommodate the girth. The feel of her, the wetness, the tears at the corners of those big, round eyes, and the question in them—'think you can handle this?'

Fuck.

She’s sloppy; so immediately, noisily sloppy.

Cheeks hollowing out, taking you deep, making your hips buck and collide with the back of her throat for that agonising split second before she retreats; only to do it again. Faster, harder; making you doubt the ability of your knees to hold out.

A fistful of her hair, if only to keep you upright.

She’s all over the place—popping your cock from her lips, kissing down your shaft, licking around the base, a cheeky graze of teeth along your balls, and then back again, swallowing you down until you can feel her nose nuzzling into your groin.

You’re a mess of sensations, pleasure coiling in your stomach, a knot inside you tightening with every wet sound she makes.

It’s her enthusiasm that does it, really. She’s not trying to be good at this, not trying to impress you with her skills. She’s just plain desperate for it.

Her moans vibrate through you, muffled by the thickness of your cock. She’s saying something, words that you can’t quite make out, that takes a moment to translate: "Needed this," she gasps around your length, "Missed it so much."

An admission: you’ve really fucking missed it too.

“This beautiful, beautiful cock,” Bae slurs, sliding your cock out of her throat to catch her breath, so she can take a break to wonder. “How many has it ruined, hm?” Her tongue flicks out, scooping the globs of saliva and pre-cum hanging from the head. “All those pretty little girls you train.”

There’s envy there, and you’re barely managing to groan out, assuage her, “Just you.”

“I find that so fucking hard to believe, sir.” Bae says, resting your cock on the edges of her cheeks. “Those tight cunts, those eager mouths and asses, and you're telling me—" she swipes her tongue along your shaft, leaving a wet trail in her wake "—that it's just me?"

Her voice, her fucking words; too, too much. It’s all you can do to not just grab her by the neck and fuck her face raw. (A dream for her, probably. To have you grab her throat and made her choke on you).

“Well, if you say so,” she’s unconvinced; not that it does anything to slow her down. Back at it, back at making her eyes water, at needing these panted, desperate gulps of air between mouthfuls of you.

The little things—her lips glued around your shaft, her throat a tight, warm fist, and her eyes. Looking up at you like she's afraid if she doesn't, if she stops moving and averts her gaze, you'll pull away.

As if.

“Bae, you’re so fucking good at this,” you’re blurting out, because she is. She really, really is.

Wet and filthy and so fucking delighted to let you know, “All for you, sir.”

And you believe it—she makes you believe it.

Everything’s for you, even when she’s not supposed to be. The sound of her, choking and gagging, the wet, slobbering noises of her devouring you, echoing off the empty gym walls.

The sight of it all; tearing your attention to a million different places. There’s the Bae in front of you, focused entirely on your cock, on letting you use her mouth like a toy, plunge your length deep down her throat to make her cry, to make her cheeks flush.

Then there’s the Bae in the mirror, the reflection bouncing off the polished chrome surface behind her. Her ass, rising and falling, in time with the bobbing of her head; and that soaked spot right at the centre of her shorts, the bullseye growing and growing with every second that passes.

Fucking amazing, incredible, too good, too much to handle; spilling out of your mouth as those pouty pink lips of hers slide up and down, drool pooling around your base, slipping down your thighs, a wet mess dripping onto your floor.

“And to think you wanted to stop this from happening,” she’s chiding, offended really, voice raspy with the effort of speaking around your cock.

There’s no argument to make, not when you’re too busy taking in the sight of your cock disappearing back into her mouth. She’s impatient now, not letting up, not even for air; just taking you in deep, deep, so deep she’s trying to swallow you whole.

You’re sliding down, down her throat, and she’s got you; this suction around you that holds you there and it’s a sheer miracle that haven't completely dissolved inside her. Your hips are thrusting forward of their own accord, your hand still in her hair, but not pulling anymore. Just holding on.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, the gym spins around you; the lights, the equipment, everything blurs into a sea of white noise, and all that remains is the wet sound of her mouth and the hotness of her throat, the fistfuls of her blonde hair, her eyes, these pretty drops of chocolate brown; and it’s all building and building and tightening and tightening, until—

"Stop."

It’s a pain to say, but necessary; if you still want a fighting chance to make it out of this with at least some of your dignity intact.

A gentle tug of her hair has your cock slipping from her mouth with a wet pout; leaving the warmth of her lips for the sudden chill of the gym’s regulated air. Bae looks up at you, panting, lips swollen and shiny, drops of you smeared from your base to her chin.

“Something wrong?”

A pause until the room stops spinning, so you can collect yourself and wonder why you’re even here. “I need—" you start, but the words catch in your throat. What do you need? To not fuck your client? To try to keep your job? Or to hear her scream your name, have her beg and beg and beg, drill her into every surface possible—every bench, rack, wall, fuck even the elliptical if she’s game.

Coherence comes and goes, and Bae remains seated on her heels, supplying her own suggestions. “Need to stretch me out? Make me really sweat?”

"Still with that?"

"Tired of the wordplay?" She laughs, and you can't even be mad—you're the one who gave her the opening.

"What do you think?"

Bae takes her sweet time looking you up and down, greed in her gaze, as she takes in you; straining from the effort of holding back. From your chest, down your stomach, landing on your cock, still painfully standing at attention.

"I think," she says, drawing out that word, sliding it over her tongue like a piece of candy, "That I regret not asking you to send me any photos back."

That brings a smile to your face; and it’s enough to clear the fog from your head. You steel your resolve, give her the one thing she’s been craving, from the moment she saw you walk in:

A firm order: “Stand up. Take those shorts off before I rip them off myself.”

You give her room to lift herself off the bench, legs unfurling one at a time and stretching beneath her. She wiggles her hips in this dance as she kicks off her sneakers and shimmies out of her shorts; the nylon clinging to her skin before it’s peeled away to reveal… nothing.

Just her bare, naked flesh—pink and perfect.

Tearing away from her momentarily, from the living canvas of long legs and naked anticipation, ignoring the fucking twirl she does for you, because yeah, she’s fully, adorably aware of just how insanely, lights-out good she looks.

You turn to the bench, kick up the backrest from a flat to an incline; doing your best to pay no mind to Bae, waiting. Rather impatiently, bouncing restlessly on the balls of her feet. The teacher’s pet, so needy for a morsel of attention.

Back to her, unable to suppress the smirk spreading across your face as you take a seat. “Squats.”

Her face. The amusement, the excitement, the acknowledgment that you’re now completely on board with this derailment of a training session—it's all there, painted across Bae's features in glorious, full-colour high definition.

She takes a step forward, sauntering over, one hand sliding down to trace over her mound, to tease herself; tease you. And when she’s close enough, she swings her legs over your thighs, straddling your waist, taking hold of your shoulders and bracing herself against you.

Dripping already, cunt barely kissing the tip of your cock, the heat of it all; it’s a living, breathing entity in the room—thick, heavy, making the air feel charged.

And then, without another word, she sinks down.

A long, hot breath from Bae's mouth: “Fuuuck me.”

Slow, delicious torture has you groaning, has her biting down on her lip. The way she takes you in, the way you push into her, inch by inch—feeling every little twitch of her walls, every throb of your cock; it’s all just so fucking perfect.  

“Good girl,” you find yourself saying when she bottoms out, when your cock completes her, turns her into something beautifully obscene.

“God, you’re just so,” she starts with, but the words get lost somewhere between the shallow gasps and harsh breaths that follows.

She’s staring at you, deep into you, and there’s this satisfied grin playing at the corners of her mouth that makes you want to do everything she hasn’t had the breath to ask for.

"Thank you," she manages instead.

And then she’s moving. Slowly, so goddamn slow, taking her time to feel every ridge, every vein; making sure she’s got you all to herself. Her chest heaves up and down, her tits bounce dangerously close to your lips. You spy past her, enamoured with her reflection, how her back flexes and tenses, how her spine curves with each descent, how her ass cheeks clench each time you fill her whole. 

It’s these tight little squats, this wonderful rhythm she’s setting, these squeezes of her pussy around you, the juices of her cunt slapping against your thighs as she bounces.

“Creaming everywhere, so fucking messy.” You’re taking stock of her; of this mess she’s leaving, all over herself, all over you, all over the bench and down to the ground. You can’t even be mad because, “It’s a good look on you, Bae.”

From a distance she’d be the purest depiction of innocence; the sweetest angel, the kind that would be painted on stained glass and prayed to by the masses.

But here, up close, biting down on your shoulder, devouring your cock with her cunt, moaning in your ear things that would make the Old Testament blush; she’s fucking pornographic.

Yet, she says, “Sir, I can’t handle this—”

You pause, holding her by the hips, eliciting this whine from her lips. “Too much?”

“No, not that, it’s—ah. It’s too slow,” Bae whines, emphasising her point by slamming her hips down onto your thighs, the slap of skin on skin bouncing off the mirrored walls. “I need it fast. And hard. Like you said, I need to sweat. It’s there—I’m right fucking there—so, can we—fuck, can we just go?”

Bae, Bae, Bae.

She makes your blood sing and your cock throb.

Makes you give it to her, just like she asked.

Fingers dig into her hips, thumbs pressed into the softness of her flesh, and you lift her slightly, only to pull her right back down. Like she asked: fast, hard, and you’re thankful you shelled out extra for benches that could take punishment.

“God—” Bae cries out, high-pitched, a scream that has her shaking; not because you’re hurting her, there’s no pain to be found here. It’s all just bliss, pure, unbridled bliss.

So, you lean in, suck one of those pretty little peaks into your mouth, swirl your tongue around, and she’s jolting, her cunt clamping down on you, so tight, so fucking tight.

Every part of her, from the top of head to the tips of her toes, is tuned to this frequency of need. Her nipples, especially so; they’re so sensitive, so attuned to your every touch. They tighten to pebbles with the slightest swipe of your tongue, when your teeth dare to graze them—any pressure from your lips and she shivers.

"That’s—fuck—that’s so much better," she’s panting, “Isn’t it, isn’t it so fucking good?”

You rumble something of an affirmative into her chest, too occupied to bother with words, too busy mapping out her chest, her breasts, that lovely dip between, with your tongue and teeth and hands.

And you’re suddenly having trouble remembering, or forgetting altogether—what was it really that was stopping you from doing this sooner? What could possibly make missing out on this, missing out on Bae’s sighs and moans, missing out on the blistering heat of her cunt and the tightness wrapped around you worth it?

Sure, you had her (had each other) in the shower—slippery, steamy, illicit—but it had been so fleeting. Just a glimpse into what had been begging to happen since she first entered your domain, all smiles and sly glances.

Now that she's in your lap, taking your cock like such a good little slut, you can’t stop the images flooding your mind, feeding your imagination with every conceivable scenario.

Tasting every inch of her, exploring every crevice with your tongue, every peak and valley with your fingers. Spending hours just learning her. In due time, in due time; not now, when she’s riding you like she’s trying to break you—or at least, break the bench.

“This, exactly this,” Bae breathes into your neck, her nails raking over your shoulder blades, leaving these angry red crescents that burn and sting. “Fuck, fuck, I want it just like this—"

Getting more erratic, louder, closer.

So, you lean back, content to let her do all the work, watch her climb that peak. You could take all the time in the world, watch her waste away the very expensive fee you’re charging her company for your time. It’s what she wants, and isn’t that how it goes—the customer is always right?

"This is exactly what I want to do, exactly what we're going to do every session from now on," Bae’s instructing, voice a whip crack in the quiet of the gym. She’s getting braver with each moan that escapes, each grind of her hips that sends you deeper. "You’re going to fuck me, hard, rough, just like you fucking promised."

You can't help but laugh, the situation absurd, the words rolling off her tongue like she’s rehearsed them. "Every session, huh?"

"Every. Single. One," she confirms, her eyes fluttering shut as she starts to bounce faster, her pussy swallowing you up in a wet, delicious rhythm. “No more hiding, no more pretending. Just me, you, and this gym, as much as we need, whenever we want. Fuck, doesn't even have to be scheduled, I'll just call you and you better be here ready to fuck my brains out."

"Alright, Bae," you grit out, something inside you tightening at the thought of her calling you, begging for it like she is now, "If that's what you want, that's what you'll get."

It’s a contract, signed and sealed with the slickness of her cunt, the heat of your skin, the promise in her eyes that she’ll be good, so good for you—or at least, good enough to get more of this.

"But remember," you say, unlatching yourself from her tits, making sure to catch her eyes. "I don't do easy. You want this, you're going to work for it."

Bae bites her lips, “Yes. God yes.”

You correct her. “Yes, who?”

“Yes,” Bae grins, “sir.” 

Something shifts; the dynamic swinging for the first time in your direction, and it’s clear now. Clear to you, to her, that from now on as long as you’re taking her—pushing her—to that precipice, you’re the one calling the shots.

So, you guide her, guide her hips with your hands; setting a new pace. One that’s demanding, borderline violent, that has her chanting—“yes, yes, yes”—the syllables falling from her lips like sweet little prayers to some depraved deity.

She’s coming apart, leaving herself so vulnerable and bare, like she'd just die on top of you if you didn't stop fucking her back to life. It’s so, so painfully lovely, you’re seeing the most beautifully crafted sculpture crumble into dust. You’re in awe of her. You’re in—

Fuck you might be falling for her.

That’s a revelation to keep tucked safely away, because you couldn’t think of a less appropriate time for confessions. No, now’s the time for grunts and groans, for the sound of her wetness and the smack of her ass colliding with your thighs.

"Am I good for you?" Bae mewls, "Am I good for you, sir?"

She’s so, so good. So fucking good that your answer is a knee-jerk reaction. “Fucking incredible, Bae. Such a good slut. Getting fucked like this, used. Taking it so fucking nicely.”

Red colours her cheeks as they flush at the praise, a silent plea for more. And so you give it to her, pushing harder, faster, showering her with these gems of depravity that only someone like Bae could bring to the surface.

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you? Getting so close. So desperate to give it to me,” you’re taunting, feeling her walls closing in around you, feeling her body coiling up tight. “It’s okay, let go. You can let go.”

So close to the edge she’s practically dancing on it. She’s fighting it, fighting against the wave, her cunt spasming around you, her breaths hitching and coming in these sweet desperate little pants.

You can taste it; she just needs that extra push, that hard fucking to bring her there. A demand: “Cum. Cum for me now, Bae. Show me how good you can be, show me how much you want this.”  

And finally, a gasp, “Say my name. Call me by my name, please.”

A hand at the back of her neck, bringing her ear to her lips, so you can whisper the name you’re fucking her hard enough to forget. “Jinsol.”

It’s fucking immediate.

The words leave your mouth, and she shatters. Fine china thrown against a brick wall.

Waves of it hitting her, a shudder at first, then a fucking tsunami; ripping through her, stealing away any last semblance of bodily autonomy she might’ve had left and leaving her as a puddle of trembles and shivers and pure need.

You keep pumping, calling her every dirty name in your book—whore, slut, your little toy, your good girl, just Jinsol—again and again until all she knows is your voice.

Each name you give her, it’s a spark that sends her higher, makes her cum harder, and she just goes and goes and goes.

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuuuck," Bae whimpers, eyes squeezed shut so tightly you can see the veins pulsing at her temples. And you keep going, you keep pushing her, because you can't get enough of this—of her, of the power she's given you, of the way she's so obviously yours in this moment.

You want to mark this occasion, leave a sign that it was real, that you really did fuck her to oblivion. It has you kissing into her neck, sucking at the pale flesh, biting down just hard enough to make her whine.

"You're mine," you burn into her, in that nook between her neck and shoulder. "You're all mine."

Ragged huffs signal the end of it, the come down from the high—but you’re hardly done with her. You can’t be—not when you’re still this hard, not when she’s still so fucking wet around you, not when you’re feeling like this, like you could drown in her without ever needing to come up for air.

"So good, so fucking good.” She collapses, her body folds into yours, and she’s giggling, all breathless and boneless.

Of course she’d be like this, over the fucking moon. She’s got what she wanted, what she needed; made you promise to keep giving it to her whenever she wanted.

She reaches for you, fingers trace the line of your job, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, smudging a bit of her own gloss there. "I knew you’d be perfect," is what she says, right before she kisses you, "Perfect for this."

The tangling of your tongues, the taste of mint and sweat, and the smiles you’re sharing against each other’s lips when you flex your cock inside her.

“I’m not done yet,” you remind her, pulling back from her kiss, pulling your bottom lip out from her teeth. “Far from it.”

“Not going to let me catch my breath?” Bae teases, acting like this isn't entirely her fault. Like she wasn't the one that pushed you this far, that dug underneath all your layers of professionalism and responsibility until she found someone that could match her appetite.

“No.”

You’re up, pushing yourself up to your feet, keeping her impaled on you, fucking her up into the air and forcing her to wrap her legs around your waist.

And then, with a strength fuelled by lust and want and a need to just fucking cum in this slut; you drop her on her feet, spin her around, and plant her hands against the mirror.

No warning, no easing her in; she’s still so wet, cunt slick and slippery. Just slide back in, slam into her from behind, watch her come apart.

It’s all in front of you, all playing out across her pretty reflection: her face twists, her tits jiggle, her abs, God how they tighten and release all at once.

Taking back a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to claim her neck; all these sweet things—"watch yourself get fucked, Bae, look how pretty you are for me.”

And she laughs, she actually laughs, because it’s all she can do when you’re gripping her hair so tight, scraping your teeth across her neck, making her feel you all thick and hard inside of her.

A hard buck of your hips sends her forward, presses her cheek to the mirror, staining the glass with the heat of her breath.

“Look,” you demand, “look how perfect you are taking my cock like this.”

She obeys; staring at herself in the mirror, watching herself get fucked, get filled, get taken. It’s just too much. She’s too much. You’re too much. This whole fucking situation is just too much.

"Fuck it's so—you're fucking me so—"

"Didn’t you say you could take it?"

Bae's response is a whine, a clench of her cunt around you. "I can, I can take it, sir," she gasps. "Whatever you have for me. But you're just too..."

You lean in, eager to hear her confession. "Too what?"

"Too much! Too big, too good, too everything."

A fucking compliment and a challenge all rolled into one. "Is that so?"

"Y-Yes—I’m just so—just need you to—please fucking cum," she groans, barely audible over the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together. "Do whatever you want to it, to me, to my pussy, please, just please, please, please."

You're breaking her, turning her into this teary mess of moans and whimpers, tapping into something innate inside her, something that wants to be bent to your will, to be used by you, to be treated like the slut she craves to be in this moment.

And fuck, it’s addictive.

"You're going to scream my name.” You’re telling her, telling her how the rest of this situation, how the rest of your entire relationship is going to play out. "You're going to cum all over my cock again, and then you're going to tell me how much you love it."

"I will, sir," she nods furiously to you, to herself in the mirror, "I'll do anything you say."

You just can't wipe the grin off your face.

Thrusting into her, fucking her like you've never fucked anyone before. Like you own her, like she's nothing more than your toy to play with—to use and abuse and enjoy.

She’s screaming your name—no, not your name—“sir, sir, sir, fuck me, sir”—and—“more, sir, please, pretty please.”

More for her—a hard smack to her ass that makes her jump, makes her eyes water. But it also has her push back against you, fucking you back, more frantic than ever. A second smack cracking through the gym, and already there’s red blooming on her skin, marring the perfect pale flesh.

"Sir, please," she cries out, her voice high and tight. "More, more, more."

You oblige, your hand coming down again and again, painting her ass with the sting of your palm. Each smack has her pussy clenching around you, her lips begging for more.

"I love this," she admits, shakily. "I love it."

You slap her again, and again, and again—each hit punctuating her moans. "Say it," you demand. "Say it louder."

"I love it, sir," she cries, the filthy fucking admission bouncing off the walls. "I love it, I love it, I love it!"

Her orgasm builds again, her body tightening around you, a vice. The tension in the air is suffocating, you’re fucking in for it now, dooming yourself to this delicious cycle of sin with every thrust.

Bae, your Bae, all pure white and angry red now, the beauty still standing despite your best efforts to bring it to ruin.

She's there, and you're done waiting.

"Now."

It's that fucking easy.

That's what you think as you watch Bae unravel all over again, all over you; slipping into that sweet, sweet oblivion that you’ve coaxed out of her.

"God, sir, fuck!"

Hammering into her, fucking her apart; through the pain, through the ruinous pleasure, pressing her up against the mirror, squishing her tits into the cold glass.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, sir, fucking me so good, making such a mess, you’re—" But that sentence dies before it even can get started, and all that tumbles out of her mouth is, “fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—”

She’s fucking gone.

Bae crumbles against the mirror, and you fall into her, keeping your body glued to her back. The clenching, the shivering, the twitches and the gasps; the patchwork of bruises and bites and crimson you’ve left all over her.

You follow.

Something dark, a guttural grunt, and you pull out of her, this sloshing noise from her cunt as you do.

Without your cock Bae just falls to the ground, bracing herself against the wall while she gathers herself—twists her body into something beautiful.

Before you can even process what she’s doing, what’s happening at your feet, she’s in position; that pose again. And you realise what it was: the kneeling, the hands behind the back, the tits out, mouth wide open, tongue waiting.

A preview. A promise. An invitation.

“Sir, your cum, if you please—"

A sledgehammer to your fucking soul—that's what it feels like when you finish.

One, two, three pumps of your cock and your vision goes white, like someone's shone a fucking flashlight right into your eyes, and the only thing you have left is the intense, throbbing release all over Bae.

Ropes of it spurt from your cock, painting her face with thick, white streaks. There’s more sirs, more thank yous and pleases and fucks, (you swear you catch a daddy in there as it hits her); but she doesn't flinch—no, she opens her mouth wider, needy for every drop.

The first shot hits her square in the forehead, sliding down the bridge of her nose and into the waiting cavern of her mouth.

Another shot goes wide, spattering across that dark freckle on her cheek. Another hits her chin, another ruins her hair, the last sprays over her tits; all these shots just covering her, turning this fucking idol into your personal cumslut.

“God, yes, sir,” she slurs through the cum, earning every single drop, “I’m just covered in it. So, fucking much. It’s so good.”

A stumble back on your feet, a step away to assess the damage as you slowly stop pumping your cock. Bae on her knees before you, just drenched with your cum. Bae your client, if she still can be called that anymore.

What else could she be? Your lover, your sub, your obsession, your… what? You’re not quite sure what to call it, call her, other than a big fucking mess.

But, as you watch her happily lick your cum off her own skin, you can’t resist giving a final instruction. “Swallow.”

“Yes, sir.”

You are so, so fucked.

Bae, sweet and obedient, takes her finger, scooping up every trace of you from her cheek, her tits, all along the ridges of her abs. All this hot, hot white you’ve expended on her, marked and branded her with.

It all happens in slow motion; she laps it up, paints it over her lips, pushes it into her mouth. Sticking out her tongue, presenting it to you in one big sticky glob, making sure you're seeing nothing but her be such a good girl for you.

And down her throat it goes.

"Good enough, sir?"

You lean down, wipe the last drop off her temple with your thumb. She opens her mouth, helps you push it in, sucks on it greedily as if it’s the last taste of you she’ll ever get.

There’s a thought to give her more, to fill her mouth until she’s addicted to your flavour. But you don’t—not yet.

You must save some things for later.

Bae’s content to stay there, kneeling, cheek resting your thigh, utterly cum-drenched; fingers idly dancing along your softening cock, toying with the last few drops of cum that still cling to your shaft.

You break the silence with a sigh. “Guess I should get used to this, huh?”

Bae sings, “Every single session.”

“Christ.”

That draws a chuckle from her, and you shoot her a warning look as she dares to kiss your cock once more. “Care to show me how the shower works again?”

You roll your eyes.

“I mean, only if we have the time.”

At this point, you’d give her your every waking hour if you could. A glance at the digital clock on the wall has you guesstimating—"It'll be a squeeze."

Bae, never to miss an opportunity, “Isn’t that how you like me?”

“I thought we were going to stop with the wordplay."

"Can't help it, sir." Bae's arms snake around your leg, sidling just that inch closer. "You just bring it out of me."

"Ah, so it's my fault."

"Of course. This whole thing is your fault," she tells you, donning the expression of a saint; all wide-eyes and sweet smiles. "You just had to make me yours."

"Mine?"

"From now on, yes."

“In that case—” You bend down, lifting Bae up, hoisting her up in your arms as easily as any other weight in the gym. She giggles into your neck, her body fitting into yours like you've been doing this for years. The warmth of her, the press of her breasts into your chest, her legs looping around your waist—it’s all so natural. “While we still have some time left.”

“Before your next client?” She asks, oh-so-innocently, like she isn't prying, isn't trying to make a home for herself in the remaining hours of your day.

“Sullyoon.”

“Oh,” Bae says once, processing, and then again, “Ohhh.”

You blink, trying to keep up with wherever her mind is racing to next. “What?”

The smile that widens on her face is going to haunt you, you can tell. “Oh, nothing,” she says, but she’s got a secret she’s just dying to share.

But she won’t, not yet.

Bae’s fingers trace a pattern down the centre of your chest, playing over your sternum, circling your navel, and then—there’s that smugness again—heading south. “I was just thinking I might stick around for your next session.”

It’s a declaration, not a question. The way she says it, so casual, so flippant, it’s like she’s talking about sticking around to watch a movie, not grossly overstepping even more lines before you get a chance to redraw them.

And then you're back at square one.

“Just to make sure you and her keep things strictly professional."

[na0koz]

jinx getting jealous and makin u pay for it :P

nsfw!!! MDNI. cw: blood, knives, kinda dubcon i guess?, strap use

anon request! wouldn’t let me respond to it in a post. this is my first time writing proper smut sorry if it’s bad

toxic!jinx masterlist

today was one of the few days you weren’t planning on hanging out with jinx, but obviously you ended up doing just that. jinx was just checking up on you, watching you work from the very back corner of the cute little coffee shop you were studying in (sometimes she is baffled by the fact that you have never ever noticed her stalking you. she is in plain sight half the time) when someone from your class comes in and approaches you at your table.

you smile up at them, moving your bag so they can sit opposite you and the two of you start chatting. several minutes go by, your studies long forgotten as you get to know your classmate, someone who you hadn’t really spoken to much before. jinx on the other hand, hasn’t moved a muscle and has barely even blinked as she watches the interaction unfold before her, eyes flickering between the two of you before noticing your classmate pulling their phone out.

jinx damn near gets up out of her seat when she sees you take their phone and type what jinx assumes was your phone number. she finally moves, though only to start bouncing her leg up and down, waiting for an opportunity to question you. she’s bitten her lip so hard that it bleeds.

after what feels like an eternity, your classmate leaves. jinx already knows their name and perhaps even their address after somehow finding a list of everyone in your class and researching each of them. they will face their punishment in due course. as soon as the door closes behind them, jinx is up and stomping towards your table.

the sudden movement opposite you as she sits down causes you to look up again from your laptop and you exclaim upon seeing her. “oh! hey jinx.”

jinx doesn’t say anything in return, just licks the remaining half-dried blood from her lip.

“who was that?” she questions, leaning on her forearms over the table. she sounds annoyed, and you really really hope she isn’t as angry as she sounds.

“someone from my class. they just wanted to borrow some notes they had missed,” you explain as you gather your stuff up and put it in your bag. you know she’s gonna make you leave with her so you might as well prepare.

“hm. whatever, let’s go.”

you follow jinx out of the shop and she grabs your arm to pull you along beside her while she thinks of the quickest route back to either of your houses.

you end up at her house, the door locked behind you as you push your shoes off. jinx tugs your bag off your shoulder for you, dropping it to the floor with a thud before leading you to her room.

she starts yanking off your jacket, your clothes and finally your underwear. she sheds a couple of her own layers, but pauses when she’s just in her underwear and a tight cropped tank top. you can’t say you’re not turned on, and you brace yourself for the teasing that will likely follow when jinx forces your legs open.

in the time you imagine how she’s going to chide you for how wet you’re getting over literally nothing, she’s managed to get her strap on and pulls you onto your stomach, bending your knees for you so you’re face down, ass up on her bed. she continues wordlessly as she begins tying a turquoise rope around your wrists behind your back.

jinx lines up her dick with your already dripping hole and pushes in, making you whine into the mattress. still without a word, she starts fucking you, and hard.

you quickly build up to your orgasm, chanting jinx’s name like a prayer begging her to let you cum.

she replies with a simple “go on.” and you cum hard on her dick, a few tears escaping your eyes and soaking the sheets below.

tonight, it’s her goal to make sure you know she’s the only one who can give you what she can, as well as she can.

jinx coaxes a few more orgasms from you with her strap before she decides to opt for a new method to make you feel so good you cry.

she pulls your fucked out body into her lap and drags your arms behind her head so they looped around her neck, still bound together by the blue rope. she kicks her legs under yours to force them open and keep them that way. then, she shoves two of her fingers into your mouth.

instinctively, you start to suck, tongue curling around her slender fingers.

“mhm, that’s it. good girl.” jinx muses as she watches your lips puckering around her digits. it surprises you how much she can change when she’s fucking you, becoming dark and dominant over you.

she pulls her now wet fingers out of your mouth with a pop and traces them down the valley of your chest, along your stomach down to your pussy. she teases your clit and your puffy folds for a second before plunging her fingers into your sensitive hole. you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut, failing to notice jinx reaching behind her as she grasps for her assault knife. the one with the hot pink and turquoise handle she made herself.

as she curls her fingers inside of you, she gently prods your inner thigh with the knife and you twitch at the sudden pain. you open your eyes and look up at her, not being able to restrain the whimpers coming from your throat as jinx continues fingering you with her knife still poking you, threatening to pierce your skin.

“ji-… hurts..” you can barely get a word out from how tight the coil inside of you is.

she’s not letting you reach your orgasm on purpose. you hear her giggle at your whining through the haze of your pleasure.

“you gonna cum?” she sings at you. she’s just teasing your for her own pleasure now. freak.

“please…jinx. wanna cum so bad..” you plead with her.

“y’know no one else can make you cum like this, baby. no one else can do what i do.” she begins to drag the knife up to the space between your tits.

jinx doesn’t feel like drawing any blood from you today, but she doesn’t need to tell you that right now. she just needs to make you know that you’re hers. she owns you and she needs to punish you for making her jealous.

“tell me i’m the only one who can make you cum.” she presses down with the blade, hearing you moan even louder. she’s changed her mind now. she pulls the knife down a little, drops of blood blooming on your chest.

you’re writhing in her grip now. you’re so so close to cumming but she just won’t let you.

“go on. tell me.” jinx says bluntly before dipping her head down to lick the blood off you.

“yo-..! you’re the only one jinx! the only one who can make me cum! please- please let me..” you cry as your sentence dies on your tongue, brows furrowed and eyes shut.

she hums. “see, baby? wasn’t so hard.” she puts the knife down and finally fucking you just that little bit harder.

the band in your belly snaps and you cum so hard you see stars. your hot juices spurt out of your convulsing hole over jinx’s palm and her bedsheets. she licks the tears from your cheeks and strokes your hair with her free hand.

you relax against her, breathing heavily as she wipes the small wound she made with a cloth she had on her nightstand. she lets you calm down a little more before cleaning up your soaked pussy.

you think it’s probably best to ignore any texts from your classmate, and pretend you typed your number wrong. for their sake, not yours.

[hwonnrinji]

THE FIRST SNOW

kim minji x fem!reader

{ synopsis } : you were in a long-term relationship with minji since the start of high school. after graduating, minji broke the news that she's going back to canada. a long-distance relationship wasn't an option, so the next best thing was breaking up. you were still in love with her for a period of time but eventually started to move on– until you bump into someone on the street.

{ a/n } : tsbu lara fic hasn't seen the light of day since creation, i feel bad -v-

{ tags/extra } : 2 years after break up, lovers to exes to ???, light angst, hyein and reader are sisters, may or may not have projected a little

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now playing : the first snow - exo

⤷ "if i met you,

would tears rise up?"

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═══════════════════════════

"Y/N! IT'S SNOWING!" hyein shook you awake while she rambled about the snow in excitement, pulling on your arm to go outside and see. you gave a half-ass protest but hyein insisted you check it out. "it might be one of the prettier first snows."

"hyein, do you have any idea what time it is?" you rubbed your eyes tiredly, the glare from the streetlights were rather annoying. the snow was as pretty as hyein said it was but you'd prefer to see it when you're fully awake.

"it's six in the morning," hyein answered. you turned to look at her, having to slightly look up to see her face. now that you're getting a better look at her, she's in her school uniform. "i have to leave for school in a bit."

"oh. i'll go get ready." as you were about to make your way to the bathroom, hyein quickly stopped you.

"it's okay, dain will pick me up."

your eyes narrowed suspiciously as you stared at her. "can dain drive yet?" seeing her tense, you sighed, putting your hand up to stop her from talking. "whatever, i don't care. just get to school safe and on time."

"why are you making it seem like i'll skip?" hyein pouted, clinging onto your arm.

"it's because you do. if you skip one more time, i'm sending you back to incheon with mom and dad," you warned. blood seemed to drain from hyein's face

"what?! noo, i like seoul," she whined while shaking your shoulders to take back your threat. you groaned, swatting her arms to let you go. "plus, haerin is the one driving."

"really? ok, have fun."

"hey! why are you suddenly ok when i mention that cat?"

"haerin value her studies so of course i trust her." you shrugged. a sudden voice called out for hyein down the street– more like a couple voices –signaling that her friends were here. "don't spend too much money on snacks, ok? love you."

"love you too, bye!" hyein rushed out of the house, turning the corner. you peeked your head out to see haerin's hyundai parked at the end of the neighborhood. you softly smiled seeing hyein run happily to her friends, reminding you of your high school years.

"well since i'm awake now," you headed back inside to get ready for the day, thinking about whether or not to go to class a little earlier than normal. since that's too much work, you decided to get coffee first.

~

your phone kept buzzing with endless notifications from god knows who, and while you tried to ignore it to admire the snow around you, a sudden call interrupted you. with an annoyed huff, you took your phone out of your pocket to see danielle calling. "hello?" you answered as you continued to walk to the coffee shop.

'did you hear?' she asked on the other line.

"hear what?"

'minji's back from canada.'

you paused for a moment, your lips parting in shock. minji, your ex that broke up with you two years ago to leave to canada, was now back in korea. "wait, i thought the move was permanent."

'it was never permanent?'

that little liar. "she told me it was," you said almost bitterly.

'really? before she left, she said she'd come back. look,'

danielle sent you a screenshot of minji's instagram story, the photo being her on an airplane with the caption 'back home.' you were absolutely furious, your hand gripping your phone so tightly that it might break. "she told me she wasn't coming back."

'maybe you remembered wrong? 'cuz that's not what she said to me nor haerin.'

"no, i'm sure. if she was coming back then we would've gone long-distance."

'y/n–'

"look, i don't wanna talk about this anymore. i'm gonna go." you didn't give danielle a chance to talk any further, your finger already pressing the hang up button. great. just when you were finally moving on, minji decided to come back. you shook your head and continued on your way. to say you were pissed would be the least similar way to describe how you were feeling. how could she lie and come back like nothing?

you finally reached your destination, your hand reaching out to grab the door handle until another hand appeared in front of you. "oh, sorry–" you backed up from the door but stopped midway once you saw who was holding the door.

"y/n?" god, you hated that voice.

"what're you doing here?" you asked with no interest, yet the sting in your eyes and the tug at your heart says otherwise. minji glanced inside the building before returning back to you, a confused look smothered on her face.

"getting coffee?..." right. it's a coffee shop. you fought back the urge to roll your eyes and cry at the same time, stepping back to let her go through. "you can go first."

"just go already." minji hesitated but reluctantly opened the door to go in first, pushing back the door behind her just enough so you can enter as well. you scoffed but didn't reject the offer, stepping inside to feel the warm atmosphere, a contrast to the outside. you placed your order quickly before finding a seat at one of the tables near the window.

minji sat in the seat in front of you, startling you a bit. her eyes seemed like she wanted to talk to you but you weren't sure if you were ready for that conversation yet. "can we please talk, y/n?"

"stop saying my name." you leaned back in your chair, your arms crossed over your chest. "you lied to me."

"it was the only option," she confessed. the sting in your eyes grew with each word she said. you ran a hand through your hair, pushing back the loose strands in frustration.

"only option? was i not enough to deserve the truth?"

"i didn't mean it like that..." her eyes were sad, practically begging you to let her explain. "i got accepted into a university in a toronto," she started, "i wanted to keep our relationship but i was going across the world. it would drive me insane to hear you say that you miss being held by me because, fucking hell, y/n. i'd miss it too."

your bottom lip started to quiver as tears welled up in your eyes, droplets falling down onto your lap. you're can't cry. not here, not now.

"i didn't wanna hear you say you wish i was there with you, i didn't wanna see myself crying in front of the bathroom mirror after calling you," minji continued on, "i didn't wanna have to pretend like i wasn't affected. so, i left."

"but why? why did you have to go? you could've stayed."

"it was the only university that accepted me. if yonsei accepted me then i would've." you sniffled, your hand coming up to wipe the tears from your eyes. you hated yourself for crying at that moment. "i was young and naive, but now, i know what i want." she reached across the table, holding your hand dearly. "i want you. i want us to start again."

"minji, you can't just leave and come back to ask for a second chance."

"please, y/n, please. i'm still in love you and i'm sorry it took this long for me to realize." her pleas were convincing but you weren't sure if you should give in. "let us be us again."

"i... i don't know." you pulled your hand back, slipping out of your seat. you left minji sitting alone as you walked out of the building, too caught up in your emotions. you felt a firm hand grab your wrist and turn you back around.

"love, please–"

"don't call me that!" your chest rose and fell rapidly as tears streamed down your cheek. "no. you don't get to break up with me and then call me love." minji only stared at you, half sorry and half full of pity.

"please think about it," she begged. "text me when you have an answer."

"don't boss me around." you took back your arm, stuffing your hand in your jacket pocket. "hyein still hates you."

"i'm sorry."

"stop, just stop. your number is still blocked and i don't plan on unblocking you." your hands curled into fists in your pockets out of anger. "see you around."

- tbc -

[kentosbabes]

CEO Toji who hires you as his personal assistant as soon as you step through his office doors. As soon as he looks up at you his breath hitches, you're wearing a blouse that exposes the top of the black lace bra you wear underneath, and you keep pulling down the bottom of your skirt that stops mid-thigh. Your glasses are pushed up to your nose as you look at him so innocently through the lenses.

CEO Toji who doesn't waste any time before saying "You're hired". His rough hand finds you back as he guides you through the glass doors and into your new office, which joins with his. He shows you the ropes of what he wants from you, keeping him on schedule, talking to clients, and completing overall admin tasks etc.

CEO Toji who now can't wait to come to work even though he doesn't show it. As soon as he walks through the front doors of the building, you hand him his morning coffee and go through his schedule for the day with a bright smile on your face. He just smirks down at you watching as you practically have to run to catch up to him as he takes big steps compared to your much smaller ones.

CEO Toji who adores how flustered you get when he calls you pet names. "I have the report you asked for, sir" The words leave your mouth so innocently, but he can't help the bulge in his trousers that begins to make itself present. "thank you pretty girl" his words making your cheeks flush red as you hand him over the papers.

CEO Toji who cant help but stare at you. The view from his desk provides the perfect view of you as you work. He can't hold back the thoughts that plague his mind every time he looks at you. His eyes trail from the curls that fall down your back to the way your back curves and your ass sticks out as you type on your computer. Your glasses falling down your nose and your red lips moving as you pick up the phone.

CEO Toji who hasn't felt this way since his ex-wife was around. He hates the feeling he gets when he sees you talking to Gojo the owner of one of his rival companies. He can't take his eyes off the way your hand grabs onto Gojo's shoulder as you laugh at his jokes, and how Gojo places a soft kiss on your knuckle as he leaves your office flashing a wink to Toji before leaving.

CEO Toji who for the first time in ages takes off his wedding ring every time he sees you. Although his ex-wife wasn't the best and he was the one to divorce her, he always kept on the ring yet he had the urge to destroy it whenever you were in his line of sight.

CEO Toji who admires how kind you are and how easily you're able to make people feel comfortable in your presence. He can't stop the smile that covers his face as he sees you offering doughnuts to your co-workers after a long week. "Hi sir, would you like one?" you ask softly looking up at him, his eyes pierce into yours. "call me Toji love," he says before grabbing a doughnut and biting into it.

CEO Toji who just thinks about how sweet you would taste as he bites into the doughnut. He imagines how your lips would taste of strawberries and sugar, and your soft skin would have a hint of coco as he kisses up your neck. but for now the sweet doughnut will have to do.

CEO Toji who cant help but blur the lines between you two. He sees the glances you give him as he paces up and down his office and how your eyes fix on his lips as he talks to you in the morning. After his last meeting he heads back to his office assuming no one would be there, yet he sees your desk light on as you sit on the couch with your laptop on your thighs presumably still working.

CEO Toji who strolls into your office with a smirk "You waiting for me sweet girl?" he asks watching as you squeal with shock. "sir I didn't know you were back yet" you let out, placing your laptop beside you, and walking towards him. "Toji, please call me Toji no need for formalities ma" You nod your head letting out a quick "Sorry sir" which makes him chuckle.

CEO Toji who places his hand on your cheek bringing your eyes up to meet his. His hands are rough and his hair is a little messy, probably from running his fingers through it from stress. "you're a real cutie aint ya" he says moving your chin slightly to get a proper look at you in the dim lighting. "so pretty" he mumbles his face inching closer to yours "you want it?" you only give him a quick nod, as you practically pool at his feet in his touch.

CEO Toji who tastes of cigarettes and a hint of whiskey as he kisses you. The kiss is rough and sloppy but you don't mind. Your much softer and sweeter lips struggle to match his pace. The mewls and whimpers you let out as he kisses you has him going crazy inside. You want to stop and question what this all means but the way his hands grip on your waist and his lips suck on your own has you too dizzy to think of anything else but him

-repost of this because the tags weren't working for a week and have finally been fixed :)

Part 2 here

Masterlist

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : fwb!hamzah x grumpy!reader

summary: short lil fic for these two lol , based on this request thank u for ur patience anon!!!!!

warnings: friends with benefits relationship, mentions of sex, um yk what hell yea

a/n: hamzah is way more high energy here than irl but this is a character based on hamzah (and with his face) so !!!!!

hamzah is freezing his ass off. it's actually unbearable. he's got to the point where he's mumble-lecturing (with a slight uncontrollable chatter to his mouth) himself as he walks down the crowded sidewalk, "shoulda' put another fuckin' layer on" or "no hat? really? it's 26 degrees and i don't even have protection for my poor ears" or a dragged whine under his breath of "i'm sooo cold."

he wastes no time, practically ramming through the cafe's petite glass door with a gentle but welcoming "we're open!" sign. as soon as he’s inside he holds his hands up to his mouth and hoards any heat he can into them as he sifts through the lingering line. hamzah is always grateful for your strict earliness (or more so allowance for his tardiness) that gets him a hot coffee and fresh everything bagel without having to wait in an egregiously long line, though he honestly thinks he wouldn't mind standing and taking in the delicious coffee bean scents and twinkling, colored christmas lights dripping around the walls.

he approaches the table you sit daintly at with ease (he'd recognize your unapproachable and blunt aura in even the most comforting places), "hello m'lady." he slouches into the chair across from you; with your scarf wrapped perfectly around your neck and knit sweater warming you well.

your gaze doesn't leave your book as you reply, "awe, you showed up."

hamzah has both hands wrapped around his mug of coffee in hopes that his fingers recover quickly, "uh huh. and this is why i always say don't ever let an alarm clock rule your life. i hit snooze three times and my coffee's still hot." he raises his mug towards you.

you dismissively breathe a laugh and finally look at him; he's leaning back casually in the somewhat small chair, his legs spread without a care, he's wearing the same wrinkled shirt with his old high school mascot (he must've worn to bed) and nothing but a zip-up hoodie thrown over. though his hair somehow remains curled into its perfect brown swoops which you simply can't spite. you tilt your mug towards his to give them a soft clink together, making hamzah smile. "you look cold," you comment.

"'m fucking freezing. don't know what i was thinking- a fifteen minute walk feels like hell when my toes are frozen in place and the wind is ready to blow me away." he speaks through his bites of his bagel. "mm! did you finally try their coffee?" he points to you as you sip.

you look into his large doe eyes, "you know i hate coffee, hamzah-"

"see, you always say that but the coffee here is like no other!" he taps the table in excitement and you smile slightly.

"i'm glad you like it but i'll stick with my hot chocolate," you take another sip of the rich drink and finally tuck your thick book back into your bag.

༉‧₊˚.

you both agree that friends with benefits simply works best for the two of you. there's a reliability you both get from knowing you'll always have a best friend- a wingman, a supporter, a person to have movie marathons and early morning cafe talks with, the person who knows your deli order by heart. but in that friend you have someone you can makeout with when life is too frustrating to even think and your eyes can't leave their lips, someone who knows your body, someone who can go out to a bar with you and would like nothing more than to fuck you afterwards (if no successful hookups come out of the trip).

it's beautiful. it makes you believe in true friendship, honestly.

you're sat with your legs crossed and nothing but a hoodie that swallows you whole and boy-short underwear on as you squint at the flashcard in front of you with a slim red pen dangling between your lips. you try to remember the exact definition for the drawn out vocab word but your mind can't focus anymore. you've spent the past three hours studying notes, writing out flashcards, and going over endless slideshows. your brain hurts and your mouth is dry and it's all just sort of pissing you off now.

you throw the pen from your mouth and climb out of bed, the sudden movement scattering and mixing the cards that were once separated based on your knowledge into one big mess. it's times like this where you wish you were obnoxious enough with your emotions that you'd just scream and yell to get this feeling over with, but instead you walk into your bathroom to rinse your skin with water and stare at yourself for an extra second in the mirror.

you breathe in deeply when you hear an infamous ringtone coming from your bedroom (hamzah stole your phone once and created a ringtone specifically for himself involving a cover of paparazzi performed by him with adlibs of you laughing in the background). sure enough when you walk back into your room, hamzah's face lights up the screen and you accept the facetime call as you sink down onto the bed.

you're surprised he called, you know he had a badminton game tonight and went out afterwards with the team- you figured he'd be to busy to talk and would just end up texting you "im home" close to midnight like usual.

hamzah's distracted when you answer the phone, his face turned the opposite way as he laughs with wide eyes. you just stare, "hamzah."

he's quick to look down at the phone in his hand, his eyes a little puffy, "oh shit! hey." his grin is huge and you can't help but smile slightly which he notices, "a smile?! my god, you must be happy to see me or somethin'!"

"shhhh," you hush him and lay down on your bed, making yourself comfortable.

he's surrounded by blue lighting and randomly-timed white flashes, which give you a proper look at his features, all coated in the large bass of the overbearing pop music. hamzah gets close to the screen to ask, "did'you get my text?" he pulls back from the phone to quirk his eyebrow curiously.

"no, i'm studying."

"where?!" he laughs at his own joke. you quickly turn your phone in your hand to show him the mess of books, cards, and your laptop scattered next to you on the comforter. hamzah sees it all but smirks a little extra when he gets a glimpse of your soft legs curled up and your pair of light blue underwear peeking from beneath your hoodie. "right, right." he nods, "how about you look at my text now that you're here," he exclaims over the music.

you sigh, "mmmkay."

the text reads: mangomango mango plzzz

mango, being your code word for leaving events- or simply just meeting up, to ultimately have sex.

when you return to the call you have a reluctant smile, "you can come over after you're done."

he smiles and raises a thumb up in agreeance.

"don't come over drunk, please."

he kisses his teeth and rolls his eyes, "alright, girl. i'm gonna go do some karaoke and then i'm headin' your way."

"oh i'm jealous i wish i could be in the crowd."

"i know." he jokes, "byeeee." he flutters a few fingers at you.

"bye, h."

༉‧₊˚.

hamzah shows up two hours later (he got caught up in the extravagant environment; he ended up taking a couple more hits from a teammate’s bong, talking to strangers, and dancing to trashy music you’d probably hate), climbing from the rickety brass ladder onto your tiny patio (he was a mess: laughing to himself and only laughing harder when he thought of how inappropriately loud he was being for one in the morning) and opening the glass door with a key hidden inside your old watering can.

he giggles through his declaration as he throws his large coat off onto your small couch, “i’m home!” he wipes over his cold yet clammy face before calling out your name.

hamzah tucks his lip into his mouth as he walks through your dark hallway, toeing off his sneakers and pulling his shirt over his head before he even reaches your bedroom.

he finds you at your sweetest- despite your grumpy, cold attitude, you’re laying down on top of your comforter with a small smile placed on your lips. he takes a few more seconds watching your figure move with your breaths before closing the door behind him and climbing next to you in your bed.

he whines a quiet, “mmm-sorryyy” into the kiss he places at your temple before leaning away to tug a blanket over the two of you. he knows that in the morning he’ll have to properly apologize for keeping you waiting like that … preferably with his tongue.

[rogueddie]

Runner / End Of Beginning

Steve has never seen his father as upset, as furious, as he was when he got home with his final exam results. He'd known- suspected- that his father would flip when his results came in...

His father got angry at small things. Hearing that he'd had a party while they were away, that a girl went missing at that party, had been the closest Steve thought he'd ever get to recieving a beating.

But when he came home with his grades... when his father realized that his son, his supposed prodigy, barely passed...

Steve has never ran as fast as he currently is.

As soon as he'd seen an openning, a clear line to the door, he'd stumbled to his feet and bolted. He'd picked a random direction and ran. He isn't going to stop running until he physically has to stop, knowing that his father is most likely in his car, trying to find him.

He can't stop. He has to keep running.

Eventually, he has to pause. He has to catch his breath.

He leans against a trailer, panting. He prays that no one thinks to look outside and spot him. He prays that no one will-

"Harrington?"

"Fuck." He hisses, squinting up at- "Munson?"

"What the fuck happened to you?" He says, eyes widenning when he finally gets a look at his face. "Second round with Hargrove, or what?"

"Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Munson eyes him for a moment, frowning. "Is someone after you?"

"What do you care?" Steve heaves a deep breath, forcing himself to stand up straight. He brings his knees up in a few knee highs, gearing up for another sprint.

"Ugh. Just- you can come into my trailer," Munson says, sounding as though Steve is forcing him to make the suggestion. "No one would think to look for you there. You can, like... I don't know. Drink some water? You jocks do that, right?"

"Wh- I don't need your help!"

"I'm not waiting for you all day, come on, let's go!" He makes a wide, exaggerated gesture for Steve to follow.

"You just assume I'm gonna follow?"

"Yeah."

He sounds so confident, so sure, that Steve can't think to do anything other thank blink and say, "fuck it, yeah, alright."

Steve is a little surprised at how much space Eddies trailer has. It's cramped, but in a nice way- the way a home gets when people actually live in it. When the people inside are actually happy and chase those joys.

Munson does get him a glass of water, mumbling at him to "sit anywhere", before flopping onto the sofa himself. He turns the TV on, focusing on that.

"Thanks," Steve eventually mutters, awkwardly sitting down.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"Sure."

"There isn't," he insists, despite how casual and accepting Munson is acting. "It's my fault, anyway. I deserved it."

"Did you?" Munson turns to him, eyebrow raised. "All us freaks and losers can talk about these days is your change of heart. King of Hawkins High turned lame boytoy."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," Steve sneers.

"Even Jeff thinks you're alright now," he barrels on. "Said he bumped into you, pretty hard, knocked all your shit down, and you apologized. Said his coffee ended up on an essay, or something. Thought he was about to get his ass kicked and you just..."

He waves his hand at him, as though that's explination enough.

Steve doesn't know a Jeff, but he's pretty sure he knows who Munson is talking about, and; "I wasn't looking where I was going. If anything, we were both at fault."

"See?" Munson waves his hand at him again, a little more pointed. "Don't doubt you've got a long way to go, but you're not half-bad. You didn't deserve whatever the fuck happened to your face."

"Whatever."

They fall quiet, both pretending to watch whatever is on the TV. Steve is so zoned out that, when someone clears their throat, he flinchs.

"Sorry to startle you boys," the man chuckles. But the humor quickly teeters out, once he gets a good look at Steve. "You alright, kid?"

"I'm fine."

"He's not," Munson grins wide when Steve glares at him.

"Staying the night?" The man continues, only looking at Eddie now.

"If I can convince him," Munson shrugs.

"I can't stay the night," Steve tries.

"Good," the man nods, as though Steve hadn't said anything. "I'll start making us all some dinner." He finally looks to Steve. "You got any allergies?"

"I can't stay," Steve tries again, insisting.

"No," Munson answers for him. "No problems with meat either."

The man gives Munson a thumbs up, heading through to the kitchen.

"I can't stay," Steve repeats, turning to Munson. "Really. I have to go back or... I have to go back."

"What will happen if you don't go back?"

Steve grimaces. "Nothing. Just- I can't stay here."

"Why not? They gonna hit me too?"

"You know what, Munson? Yeah, probably. And your- your dad?"

"Uncle," Munson snorts, standing, stretching. "No one messes with us though. We're too scary." He wiggles his fingers in Steves face as he passes by. "And call me Eddie."

"Why?"

"It's my name."

Steve awkwardly follows him to the kitchen, hovering a good distance from the two of them, watch how they move around each other with so much comfort and ease. It makes something in Steves chest ache.

"Oh, hey, you like football right?" Eddie asks, pointing to him.

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Not enough to have, like, a team." Steve shrugs.

Wayne turns around slowly, eyebrows raised. "You don't got a team?"

Talking football with Wayne is so easy that, until he's halfway through the dinner he cooked, Steve doesn't notice how fast the time is going. He can't bring himself to be bothered though. It's too nice.

Plus, Eddie is almost bouncing with joy at how well Steve and Wayne are getting along.

Someone starts banging on the door, loud and aggressive, as they make their way to the kitchen.

"Alright!" Wayne calls, rolling his eyes. "Hold your horses."

Steves stomach drops when the door opens and his father is on the other side. He smiles at Steve, sickly sweet and dangerously calm.

"Oh, thank God," he sighs. "Steve, your mother and I have been looking all over for you. When you didn't get home-"

Wayne blocks his way when he tries to step inside. "Who are you?"

"Robert Harrington," Steves dad sniffs, leaning back so he can physically look down at Wayne. "I'm here for my son."

"He ain't here."

Robert Harrington splutters, face tinting red with anger and frustration. He points to Steve, voice raising as he says, "he's right there! And he's coming with me."

Wayne turns, slow and casual. "Huh. That's odd. Don't see him."

"Steve," he snaps his fingers at Steve, like he's a dog. "Come on. We're going home."

Eddie shifts so he's standing slightly in front of him.

It's enough reassurance for him to finally snap back; "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Steven-"

"Get off my property," Wayne snaps.

His father glares at them, waiting, as though he expects them to back down. When he doesn't, he snarls; "this is kidnapping."

"He's 18," Eddie drawls.

Grumbling, he stomps off.

"Asshole," Wayne mutters. He shuts and locks the door, sliding on the chain too.

Steve has to sit down, with how much his legs are shaking.

"You alright?" Eddie asks, hesitantly sitting beside him.

"Yeah," Steve says. He's surprised to find he means it. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You can stay here, long as you need," Wayne offers. "You'll have to bunk with Eds though. Not a lot of room."

"Why can't he use the sofa when you're-"

"Nope," Wayne cuts him off. There's a glint of mischief in his eyes that has Steve squinting in suspicion. "And you'll need those cuts looking at. Eddie, why don't you go with him. Medkits in the bathroom."

Steve goes ahead when Eddie points the way to the bathroom.

Eddie tries to give Wayne a warning look but he's unbothered and, with Steves back turned, he gives Eddie an encouraging wink.

[saaturrn4]

. MDNI !

| “Good girl, yeah keep going” ── .✦ modern AU

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!reader ᥫ᭡

⭑

➤ Warnings; smut 18+, age gap, best friends single dad, dom!toji, sub!femreader, use of names (daddy, baby girl, good girl), cunnilingus, edging, breeding, nipple play, fingering, reverse cowgirl, tummy bulge, after care at the end.

➤ Summary; you go over Megumi’s house to greet him after being away for college, expecting to see Megumi, you see his dad instead, and things take a turn.

• 3.4k+ words

.✦

! not proofread.

It was a nice day today, considering it was a Monday. But it was finally the holidays, so it meant you could finally get away from campus and the assignments. It felt nice to get some fresh air, especially to be back in your home town. It felt like forever since you’ve been here, the place still looking the same from a year ago.

You also thought it would be a great idea to visit your friend, Megumi. He had arrived in town about a week ago from college also, so you knew it would be a good time to see him after being away from each other for so long. Especially since you two weren’t in the same college, which absolutely sucked.

You walk down the familiar street, houses you remember so well as you walk past each one. You walk up the driveway of the house that you had so many memories in, from being caught trying to get ice cream from the fridge, to breaking your arm from falling off the tree in the backyard, to playing hide and seek in complete darkness.

It was such great times, you were happy to be back at home.

You walk up to the front door, knocking on it twice before dropping your arm to your side. You bite on your bottom lip as you wait for the door to open, hearing footsteps from the other side about a minute later.

The door swings open, your eyes darting up to see Toji, Megumi’s dad. Your face goes red as you see his broad chest, as well as his v line. “H-hey! Mr Fushiguro long time no see” you say with a stutter, cursing to yourself in your head.

“Y/n! It’s nice to see you again! And for the last time, call me Toji you should know I don’t like that formal shit” he says with a laugh, in response you laugh as well, blushing a little as he combs through his hair.

“Come in, Megumi is out getting groceries” he says while stepping to the side, you nod before stepping inside, taking off your shoes shortly after as Toji closes the door.

You look around the house, seeing all the pictures the Fushiguro family, mostly it being just Toji and Megumi. You smile softly at all of them as you walk down the hall, with Toji walking right behind you.

You both walk into the living room, both taking a seat on the comfortable couches. You cross your leg over the other as Toji takes a seat across from you, his legs in a manspread. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so the house is a little messy” he grumbled, combing through his hair. You shake your head “it’s fine mr- Toji I don’t mind at all” you say with a reassuring smile, in which he nods in response.

“So how’s college going?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, you shrug in response. “It’s doing good right now, a pain in the ass though” you say with a giggle, he chuckles with a head shake. “It gets better trust me” he says, giving you a smile. You dart your eyes from his, looking at the coffee table in front of you. “You’ve been out partying? Don’t tell me you’ve been at those stupid frat parties” he leans forward, waiting for your answer.

You shake your head “only to clubs” you reply in which he nods in response. “Good, those frat parties are nothing but trouble” he says, crossing his arms across his naked chest. You gulp as you see his abs, before darting your eyes away before you got caught.

He had obviously caught you which he frowned from thinking he had made you uncomfortable. “I’ll put on a shirt if you feel uncomfortable” he says, standing up. You look up quickly, your mouth slightly opened.

“No no no it’s fine! I’m not uncomfortable at all!” You say, shaking your head. He looks at you, eyes narrowed before sitting back down. “Are you sure? I can quickly go and get a shirt” you shake your head in response “like I said Toji, it’s fine no need to worry” you say with a smile, making him nod.

“Okay then” he murmurs, giving you a raised eyebrow. The sound of a phone buzzing echo’s, in which Toji pulls out his phone from his pocket. He answers the phone, putting it to his ear to talk to the person on the other side.

He says a quick bye before hanging up, placing his phone on his lap before letting out a sigh. “Who was it?” You ask “Megumi, he’s at Itadori’s house and won’t be back till later” he says before standing up, you frown at the answer before standing up also.

“I thought he was getting groceries?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you follow Toji closely. He shrugs, which you can’t help but look at his back muscles flexing as he did it. “Itadori probably begged him to come to his place, Y’know how those two are” he murmured, shaking his head as you both walk into the kitchen. “Boys will be boys” you joke, in which he snickers. “I got left over pasta from last night if you want some? Or it was just gonna go to waste” he suggests, pulling out a small container of pasta from the fridge.

You grab it from his hands, a small ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you open the container. Toji hands you a fork before taking a seat at the kitchen counter, putting his chin on his hands as he stares into space. You start to eat the pasta, a few moans leaving you as the taste melts in your mouth. You know Megumi’s cooking anywhere.

You hadn’t realised that Toji was watching you, until you were finished with the food. You lick the corner of your mouth before looking up, blushing hard as you make eye contact with Toji. He chuckles softly “no need to get shy, I was like that last night when I ate it too” he says, before standing up.

“You have a little bit of sauce” he says, pointing towards the spot where it was. You blush even more as you try to wipe it away, before looking back at Toji. He shakes his head “here let me” he says before walking over to you, his hand reaching out to your face.

He places his fingers underneath your chin as his thumb swipes the corner of your mouth, making you open your mouth a little. He looks down at you as you sat there whilst his hand held onto your chin softly, his thumb resting against the side of your mouth as he stared at you. You couldn’t help but stare back, your face red like a tomato.

I mean, you couldn’t help but blush. You can’t lie, but Toji is a good looking man, and the scar at the corner of his lip just made him even hotter. But you couldn’t say that out loud, because 1. He’s your best friends dad, 2. He is like 20 years older than you, and 3. Is well because your scared Megumi would never talk to you again if he found out about your little crush on his dad. Actually scratch that, it’s a BIG crush. Fuck, you can’t go a day without thinking about him. You know it’s wrong but you can’t help it, I mean you’ve moaned his name while you were fucking yourself with your dildo for crying out loud!!! But nobody needs to know that. And you mean Nobody.

The sound of Toji chuckling makes you snap out of your trance, his hand dropping from your chin as he stands straight. “You get distracted easily, y/n” he teases before patting the top of your head, he grabs the container and fork, walking to the sink and putting the container and fork in it.

Silence took over as Toji cleaned the dishes while you took glances at his back, watching as his muscles flexed as he moved. It was definitely a good sight to look at, oblivious to the fact that Toji knew you were looking, a small smirk plastered across his face as he cleaned the dishes.

You couldn’t help but think of nasty thoughts of Toji, the thoughts so nasty that it made you squeeze your thighs together, the ache in between them growing. Toji turned around after doing the dishes, his eyes narrowed at the look on your face. “Are you okay?” He asks, drying his hands on his pants before making his way over to you.

With a nod, you give him a smile “I’m fine” you say, but Toji didn’t seem pleased with your answer. He shakes his head as he stands beside you, his hand going underneath your chin, lifting your head up.

He studies your face “are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. You nod with a little ‘mhm”, not trusting yourself to speak as you felt your panties soak. His eyes glance down at your crossed legs before looking back up at you, tilting his head to the side. He soon takes a seat next to you, his hand dropping from your chin to your thigh.

You jump at the feeling of his hand on your thigh, his fingers sliding down to your inner thigh, pushing the leg down. “You look frustrated… are you frustrated y/n?” He asks, his eyes darting up to look into yours. Your name rolls off his tongue so smooth, it sounded so good.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding as he hums in response. “Do you want me to help with your frustration?” He asks, tilting his head. You bite on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say as the ache in between your thighs grew. It only took a nod for Toji to lift you up from the stool, his hands around your waist whilst your legs wrapped around his body.

He kisses you hungrily, your mouth moving with his in seconds. Your tongues slid with each other, teeth clashing against each other as Toji took you into his room, locking the door behind you two before walking to the bed.

He places you down on the bed before climbing on top of you, your lips never leaving. Small whimpers escaped you, only for it to be muffled by Toji’s mouth, his tongue skilfully darting in your mouth.

This felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

In seconds you both had your clothes ripped off, thrown away somewhere in the room. Toji’s head was in between your thighs, raspy moans leaving you as his mouth sucked and kiss on your clit. Your fingers raked through his soft, black hair as he pleased you.

Incoherent words left your mouth, eyes rolled back of your head as he slid two of his fingers in your entrance. Your toes curled, back slightly arched off the bed as he curled the digits, wanting to find your weak spot. You moaned his name so cutely, your voice filling Toji’s ears. He swirled his tongue around the swollen bud, smothering his face with your wetness. Small gasps kept leaving you as you felt your orgasm reaching, your legs spreading out as Toji slid his fingers in and out of you at a quick pace.

Another gasp left you before the feeling of Toji leaving you, your chest going up and down as you opened your eyes. “T-Toji?!” You say his name frustratedly, making him chuckle at your little confused face.

The sexual frustration he had left you with was unbearable, your body felt like it was on fire as he stood in front of you, his cock pressed up against his lower abdomen. “What?” He teased with a stupid smirk on his face, making you even more frustrated.

“Why did you stop?!” You ask angrily, in which he chuckled again. “Shhh baby girl, you can cum soon” he says, before crawling onto you. He hovers over you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before one of his hands slide down, pushing your legs apart. “So wet for me” he murmurs to himself, looking at the glistening of your pussy.

“P-please” you whisper, biting on your bottom lip as he looks up at you. “Please what? I need words baby” he smirks, his hand brushing out hair from your face. “Please- p-please d-daddy I need you” you were a stuttering mess, almost fumbling up a little sentence. You were a fucking mess, mascara smudged down your eyes, lips swollen and your face bright red. And it was because of Toji.

He groans at your response, giving you a sloppy kiss on the lips before lifting you up. He flips you over, making you cradle his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed. His hands gripped onto you as your arms wrapped around his neck, the feeling of his cock pushed up against your thigh. “Ride me baby” he says as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking on the flesh.

You whimper at his words before nodding, biting on your bottom lip as he guides his tip to your entrance, sliding the tip up and down your slippery folds, covering it in your slick. A small gasp leaves your lips as he pushed the tip inside of you, inch by inch slowly. He was stretching you out, so slowly it felt painful. But it felt heavenly.

He grunts at the tightness of your cunt, your walls squeezing around him tightly. Your back arches, a loud moan escaping your pretty little swollen lips.

It had felt like you were being ripped apart, the size of his cock too much to handle. But he didn’t stop, he wanted you to feel every inch of him, he wanted you to think of him and only him. He could tell you hadn’t had a fuck in a while, just by the way your walls was clenching around him, swallowing him whole as he slid inside of you slowly.

“You’re so tight baby girl” he hisses, sinking his teeth into your neck. His hands held onto you tightly, pushing you down onto his cock slowly.

Soon enough, he was fully in, the tip brushing against your g-spot. You both sat there, breathing heavily as you both waited for you to get used to him. He kissed up and down your neck, leaving dark hickeys along it.

His hands slid up your body, going straight to your breasts. A small gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers squeeze your nipples, twisting and rubbing them. He fondled them so perfectly, one of his hands leaving your tits, his mouth now replacing it. Your mouth opens, raspy breaths exiting you as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, the same way he was doing to your clit.

He was very skilled with his mouth, so skilled it left you drooling. You slowly started to bounce at a slow pace, a low groan leaving Toji as he continued to suck and lick at your nipple.

You bite on your bottom lip as you bounce up and down, the slight sound of skin slapping against each other echoed through the room, as well as a squelching sound. He smothered his face in your breasts, groans leaving him. “Daddy…” you moan, your hands gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

He lays down on the bed, his hands gripping onto your hips as you continued to bounce on his cock. “Good girl, yeah keep going” The sight that was in front of him was fucking beautiful, the way your tits bounced around as you rode him so perfectly, the way drool slid down your chin and onto your chest. It was a beautiful sight, Toji loved everything about it.

His eyes scanned your body, sweat and bite marks covered your skin, his eyes slowly going down to your stomach. His eyes widened, seeing the faint outline of his cock poking through.

The sight of it was enough for him to cum on the spot, but he waited, he waited till you were a complete mess. He wanted to fill you up with his cum, cover your insides white. He wanted you to be his.

And he always gets what he wants.

His hand reaches out, pressing it against your stomach, feeling the bulge. You gasp loudly, your toes curling from the feeling as he presses on your stomach again.

“Take my hand baby” he says, in which you obey, his hand grabbing yours. He guides it down to your stomach, pressing it against your stomach. You felt a lump, making you confused to what it is. “T-Toji what is t-that?” You stuttered, which he chuckled at before letting go of your hand.

“That’s me baby that’s my cock right there” he says so casually, which made you dart your eyes down to your stomach.

Your eyes widen as you see the bulge in your stomach, the shape of his cock slightly visible to you. His hands land back on your hips, guiding you through your movements. You look up at Toji, sweat covering his forehead, as well has strands of hair sticking to it.

Your hands land back on his chest, flipping your hair to the side. Hickeys covered every inch of your neck, as well as your tits, making Toji smirk from how proud he was of his artwork. Your stomach did flips as you reached your high, the familiar knot forming in your stomach. He hissed as your pussy clenched around his cock, his nails digging into your skin as you bounced up and down at a fast pace.

He was close too, his chest rising up and down fast as he lets out groans. “O-ohhhh I-I’m gonna cum!” You moan loudly, the feeling of his tip pushing up against your cervix making you come closer to your high.

“Fffuckk me too baby, me too” he groans, helping you with your movements. Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself starting to cum, a loud scream leaving your glossy mouth.

You gushed all over Toji’s cock, covering him in your wetness. Breathless moans left you as you began to shake, your toes curled to the point it started to cramp up.

“Fuck I’m coming baby” he whimpered out, hissing before pushing up into you, a loud groan leaving his lips as he began to shoot rows of cum inside of you. You whimpered, the feeling of your insides being filled to the brim felt amazing. He kept filling you up till cum started oozing out of your overflowed cunt, dripping down on Toji’s dick.

He lets out a sigh, watching as your chest moves up and down quickly. You open your eyes, letting out a sigh also. You lean down, connecting your lips with his in a slow and gentle kiss. His arms wrap around you , flipping you two around. He hovers over you as you kissed slowly, no tongue, no teeth clashing. It was just a sweet normal kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

He smiles against your lips before pulling away, a string of saliva attached to you two. His hand comes up, brushing hair away from your face. “Beautiful” he whispers, making you blush hard as he chuckles at your reaction.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He suggests, pulling away. You nod as he stands up, lifting you up bridal style before making his way to the connected bathroom.

————

It had felt like forever since you two hopped in the shower, both of your bodies covered in soap. The both of you didn’t say much, just letting the water run down your bodies.

You both shared a messy kiss before hopping out, towels wrapped around your bodies before walking back into his bedroom.

You stood beside the bed as Toji changed the sheets, throwing the messy ones in a basket. Soon you both crawled on the now clean bed, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as your leg wrapped around his waist. Soon enough your eyes dropped like flies as you fell asleep.

Toji soon fell asleep shortly after, his arms wrapped around you perfectly.

But the thing is, you both didn’t know that Megumi and Yuji were in the living room, who were both traumatised by what they had just heard 20 minutes ago.

It was something they will never forget nor will they ever bring it up. Ever. And Megumi is for sure not talking to the either of you again for quite some time.

•••

Heyyyy guys, this is my first post on here, so don’t mind if it’s kinda shitty!! 😭 I’m still working out how to use tumblr as well:(

[girlkisser13]

helping bruce wayne relieve some stress

pairings: bruce wayne x secretary fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), handjob, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating, power dynamics.

divider by @iwonbin

"hello, y/n," bruce says as you quickly enter his office, aware that you're a few minutes late.

"hi, bossman." you say, smiling wide as you enter. you place his iced coffee down on a coaster at his desk.

"thanks for deciding to show up." he groans, pushing himself away from his laptop, needing a break from staring at the screen.

"i’m only like five minutes late." you pout. "it's just because your coffee was taking a long time and—"

"no, i don't care about that." bruce shook his head quickly. the second he saw you in the lobby, among the line of people waiting to be interviewed for being his secretary, he knew you'd be chosen.

you were wearing a tight pink shirt that showed off your cleavage and a skirt that was clearly bought just for the interview.

"oh, okay." all the negative emotions you were feeling disappeared as you shrugged.

"but i do need you for something. come here." bruce beckons you over and you move quickly to the other side of the desk.

"what is it you need?" you ask, quirking your head to the side.

"i need you to help me relief some stress." he grunts, adjusting the front of his pants from where he's painfully pressing against the zipper.

"okay, like a massage?" you question. you're not sure what the normal functions of a secretary to a ceo entails, but for how much you're getting paid, you're willing to do pretty much anything.

"yes, a massage." bruce nods enthusiastically. "exactly. and i have one place that really needs to be massaged."

"okay…" you nod, figuring it's his shoulders or his back. instead, bruce tugs at his zipper and pulls his painfully hard cock out.

"oh my god!" you squeal, covering your face quickly, palms smacking against your cheeks.

"no, no." he says calmly. "this is a part of the job."

"i... are you sure?"

"yes. now come give me a massage so i can get back to work."

"okay..." you take a better look at his dick, hard and long, it was huge. you grab your desk chair from the corner of the room and drag it towards him.

you sit down next to him, glancing again between his eyes and his exposed cock. bruce gives you an encouraging nod, and there's no way your boss would lie to you, right?

your hand reaches out to grasp his cock, swallowing thickly to ignore the urge to wrap your lips around it as you begin to stroke him.

"is that good?" you question.

"yeah, so good, just keep going." bruce relaxes into his chair, plush and comfortable for the long hours he spends in the office, always arriving before you and leaving long after you've called it quits for the day.

you reach your other hand forward as well, working his length with both hands. you tug your lower lip between your teeth, focusing on his pleasure as you jack him off.

bruce keeps mostly quiet. however, you notice a slight increase in the noise of his exhales, but not quite yet a sigh. you leave one hand moving up and down his length and bring the other to the head of his cock, moving in teasing swirls before swiping the pad of your thumb right over his tip.

"oh, that's good." he mutters, his eyes blinking hard to stay open, wanting to remember exactly what it's like to have you leaning forward, tits almost spilling out as your hands work on his cock.

"anything for you boss." you smile. you do love working for him. being his secretary is mostly just dealing with his schedule.

"you’re really good at massages." he smirks.

"thanks." you feel your cheeks blush, face heating. it's hard to get a compliment out of bruce. the nicest thing you think he's ever done is when you caught him staring at your ass as you walked away.

"keep doing that." he says when you cup your hand over the head of his cock, rubbing your palm against his leaky tip.

"okay." you hum again. your other hand keeps stroking over his length, squeezing just enough to have his lower jaw dropping in pleasure.

you both jump when the phone begins to ring. bruce reaches over to quickly end the call until he sees who it is.

"stop, it's tokyo," bruce whispers as your hands continue to move. even though you stay out of the business side, you know how significant the company's japanese partners are.

"answer it!" you squeal, your hands continuing their movement.

bruce know he can't keep them waiting so he quickly accepts the call, trying to fix his voice while you stare at him, still stroking almost absentmindedly up and down his cock.

he answers questions from representative as you drop one hand down to fondle his balls, squeezing your hand into the opening in his pants to touch them.

bruce pulls the phone away from his mouth as he lets out a quiet curse, eyes pleading for you to stop, but you can't make yourself, and bruce certainly won't push your hands away when he's longed to have them on him for so long.

his voice is shaky as he answers their questions, his cock pulsing in your hand, tip turning pink as you realize what is about to happen.

you look around for something to catch his cum with as his cock pulses in your hand but you come up with nothing, so you drop your head and wrap your mouth around the head of his cock just as he begins to cum, sucking gently to empty him as you obediently swallow.

your hands fall away as you look up at him, lips locked around his cock. you give one final suck that has him gasping before covering it up with a cough before you pull off of him with a pop.

"shit." he groans as the call finally ends.

"is your stress relieved now?" you ask, somehow still looking the perfect mix of sexy and innocent even though your lipstick was smeared from his cock.

"yes." he nods. "and next time i want a massage with your mouth."

[violetsrxse]

Meet Cute of a Lifetime | Vi x Reader

Summary - When sleeping in leads to you visiting your regular coffee shop later than usual and forgetting your wallet at home, your day proves to be more interesting than expected when a generous stranger offers to pay for your coffee.

Word Count - 1,040

CW - Just fluff, no use of Y/N, fem!reader, Vi is taller and she's a sweetheart as per usual, Modern AU, coffee shop meet cute

A/N - This fic is set roughly 3 years before my 'Just Tell Me When' fic but it's not necessary to read them in order or together at this point!

A/N #2 - I hope everyone enjoys this! Also never feel shy to send me asks with different concepts for this AU or any other you can think of, I'd love to hear them!

Modern Chef!Vi Masterlist

-

The first thing you hear when shaking off the haze of sleep is a soft but consistent knocking on your door accompanied by the voice of your mother telling you to wake up. Glancing over at the clock on your nightstand causes you to shoot out of bed, nearly tumbling to the floor in your haste.

You’ve somehow managed to sleep through all of your alarms. Most likely because of how late you'd been up the night before studying for the upcoming end of term exam.

Truth be told, college had been beating your ass lately. You suppose this is just one of the effects.

"I'm up!" You call to your mother, cursing under your breath as you rub your eyes in an attempt to shake off your sleepiness. Opening your closet, you quickly settle for a fuzzy blue sweater, some lined leggings for warmth and an easy hairstyle that keeps it out of the way.

You hardly have the chance to say good morning to your parents before you’re rushing out the door into the cold, dry December air, shoving your headset over your ears and beginning a swift walk to the coffee shop a few blocks away.

Shaking off the chill, you admire the Christmas decorations on the houses on your way, the blown up Santa Claus in your neighbors yard, the Christmas lights, beautiful even unlit, and finally the wreaths adorning nearly every door.

You only stop once to pet the fluffy brown cat with a white nose and paws that you see nearly everyday. She doesn’t have a collar, nor have you seen her going in or out of any of the houses on your street. So you’re pretty sure she’s a stray, but you haven’t managed to convince your parents to let you take her home no matter how much you beg and plead.

As you reluctantly part from your fluffy friend, you shiver at the biting cold and can't help but worry that she's also feeling the effects of the weather. But you push forward, nearing a street lined with a variety of different shops and of course, your favorite coffee shop.

It's not five minutes later when you come up to the entrance of the coffee shop, groaning at the long line you can see from the outside of the window.  

Shaking your head in annoyance and pulling the door open, you're hit with a comforting wave of warmth that melts some of your frustration away. As you glance around, you figure if you're already late you might as well just wait and get your morning coffee.

Who needs art history class anyway?

A slow ten minutes later when you finally reach the counter, you order your usual drink and reach for your wallet only to find your pockets empty.

Cursing softly, you're about to tell the barista to just cancel your order and go to class without your caffeine fix when you hear a voice from behind you.

"I've got it."

Whipping around, you lock eyes with what's got to be the most attractive woman you've ever seen. She smiles kindly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Are you sure? You really don't have to." Against your own judgement, you begin taking in her features, eyes darting around her face. Her powder blue eyes, plump heart-shaped lips, the scars on her lip and eyebrow and finally, her roman numeral tattoo.

Your cheeks heat when she catches you staring.

"I don't mind," Her smile softens and she's already getting her wallet out, zipping it open and pulling out a ten dollar bill. "This should cover it." You watch as she passes the bill to the barista.

"Thank you so much, I really appreciate it." You sigh heavily, beginning to ramble as she orders her own drink, a classic hot chocolate. "Can't believe I forgot my damn wallet- I was in such a rush to get here I must've left it on my nightstand- but I guess things like that happen when you sleep in. I really appreciate the generosity though! Thank you..." You mentally kick yourself, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm totally talking your ear off."

"No, no. It's alright, seriously." She stuffs her hands in her jacket pockets. "And you're welcome, you looked a bit stressed when you came in and I thought maybe I could cheer you up."

The barista calls your name and you eagerly take the cup in your hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. You pop open the lid, inhaling the scent.

"You watched me come in?" Your cheeks heat once more and you reach to unzip your coat a bit.

You hadn't noticed her, but you wish you would've.

"I did... shit, I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable-" The woman's cheeks flush a color similar to her hair and sways on the balls of her feet, boots clunking softly on the tile flooring. "I just thought- think you're really pretty."

"Really?" You blink in surprise, 'cause there's no way this is happening to you right now. "Thank you, and likewise!" You reply awkwardly, kicking yourself again, you're totally blowing this.

The woman chuckles. "Thanks, I'm Vi by the way."

You tell her your name and she nods with a soft smile, taking her coffee from the barista with a soft 'thank you'.

As the both of you step away from the counter, Vi asks: "Would you like to join me? I usually like to hangout here for a bit while I drink my hot cocoa."

You almost shed a tear, because you can't.

"I'd really love to, but I'm actually super late for my first class." You say apologetically. "But, I would definitely be down to another time? Maybe this weekend?" The words are hopeful and they make Vi smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that too." She pulls out her phone. "Wanna exchange numbers?"

You nod enthusiastically, taking the phone and handing her yours simultaneously. Quickly entering your number into her phone, you hand it back.

"Was nice to meet you, Vi."

"You too, pretty girl."

You leave the shop with a wide smile on your face, no longer worried about being late for class. Perhaps sleeping in was a good thing.

You really, really hope so.

-

No one can convince me that Vi would like coffee, maybe tea though? But she's definitely a big fan of hot chocolate.

[artyandink]

necessary precautions

Summary: You and Dean hadn’t really gotten to this stage before. You were partners in hunting, not in that way. But when you’re trying to plant a bug and camera in a room at a gala, you realise that you have a lot more underlying chemistry than you thought possible. Even though it’s an act. Even if you both think you’re not good enough for each other.

A/N - Yet another drabble (promise I’ll get to the fics guys, I just have too much creative juice where this is concerned)

You were having a hard time keeping your head. Especially when Dean’s fingers were pressing into your waist like that.

You two stumbled through the door, you first and Dean after as his hands regretfully left you to let his blazer drop to the floor with a soft thud, the sound of your lips connecting over and over again the only sound outside of your hot breaths mingling in the small gap between your lips. And that problem was quickly resolved by them melding together again, soft and pliable to each other’s whims.

Fast, hard, but oh, so sensual with the way his hands traced your form like he was sculpting some damn fine art.

“God, baby,” Dean murmured, his tie next to go as you both struggled to keep a grip on reality. Dean found himself hooked, hooked on the feel of your plush lips on his after all this time. All this time of waking up in a sweat to the dream of your lips all over him, on his neck, chest, abs- from your position straddling him, grinding long and slow. Open-mouthed and yours.

Line and sinker when he finally registered the intoxicating flavour of morning coffee, beer, and whiskey (a woman after his own heart), and then he was hit with the dizzying aroma of your floral perfume, mixed with the smell of the bakery you got his pie from and topped off with the hit of sweet, sweet pheromones- lord help him.

You couldn’t get enough of his calloused hands on your body, feeling up every inch, over your waist, pushing and pulling your hips in a way that had you almost letting out a real moan, tangling in your hair and pulling so he could deepen the kiss, which made the moan fall past anyway and had his eyebrows raised slightly at how convincing that was.

He had you two stumbling further into the spacious room, eyes open and quickly scanning until he tugged on your hair twice, a signal that the room was clear that allowed you to pull back and try and scan the room for a good place to put the bug and camera that you had on your person. He mouthed at your neck, the hint of teeth and tongue nearly having your knees shaking and giving way under you had it not been for your (quickly wavering) focus.

Ok, so… there’s a bed, but not too central. His lips finding that spot on your neck with such precision it had you whimpering. A couple chairs strewn here and there. His hands disappearing under your blouse to map out every little freckle on your back, pulling the band of your bra and snapping it against your heated skin. A big-ass table in the centre of the room. His lips finding your pulse and teasingly sucking.

Wait- a big-ass table. In the centre… of the… room…

You found the cold surface of the table prick at the back of your thighs, finding that Dean had already got you there and had lifted you up, rucking up that pencil skirt.

God, that tight little skirt drove him up the wall. And he was climbing higher up it.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” He murmured at his position of attacking - for lack of a better word - your neck, his hand massaging at your left knee, moving steadily up, rolling the softness between his skilled fingers, inching to where you were aching for him. To where you were waiting for him.

Until his hand stopped, withdrew from its position tantalisingly close to your panties and quickly planted the bug and camera. That he got from the thigh holster strapped to you, from underneath your skirt, which he then pulled down to protect your modesty.

Even if that lace was rendering him insane.

Your breaths were both laboured, no words exchanged as your eyes stared into his own mossy ones and his back at yours, his swollen, slightly reddened lips parted and craving yours. His hand gripping your hair again, nose bumping yours and ready to taste you on his tongue-

The door burst open, snapping you out of your session, with a singular shifter walking in, one who knew you both as the FBI agents from earlier. How did you know? The building you were in belonged to a shifter mafia, who were holding a charity gala of all things this very night. You and Dean had just finished questioning and needed to put a bug and camera in their main room so Sam - who was now waiting in Baby - could keep an eye on what was being said and done.

You forgot that detail when Dean’s hand had slid over your ass to grip your thigh, strong, firm and possessive. And it was buried in the back of your head when you tasted apple pie, whiskey and burger grease on his tongue; smelt old leather, cologne and his body wash.

So now you had to improvise, putting a hand on your chest, gasping and giggling in embarrassment while Dean turned his body, sliding a firm arm around your waist, like he was stating that you were his. God, you wished you were. “Oh! Sorry, we thought this room wasn’t, y’know, occupado. Just needed to have some privacy, right, babe?” You turned to Dean expectantly, who chuckled and turned to the shifter with a lick of his lips and a grin.

“Just snuck away for a moment.” He smirked, inclining his head to you as his hand inched slowly downward. “Couldn’t keep my hands off this one. Especially when she’s wearin’ that pretty, little skirt.” He punctuated his sentence with a sharp slap to your ass, which surprised you, but you covered it up to a swat of his dress-shirt covered chest (that was way too taut on him to be legal) with a laugh.

“Stop that, you’ll get me going again.” You found acting Dean’s hormonal girlfriend was easier than expected, considering the odds of the alarm being sounded that you weren’t really there to get down and dirty. You faced the shifter with a real forced love-sick grin, biting your lip briefly.

And Dean’s eyes totally weren’t on your plump, pink bottom lip and wishing it was his teeth worrying it like that.

“Can’t keep my hands off this one. Hard to when you have a man that’s so handsome, firm and… forbidden.” As a spot of payback, you slapped Dean’s ass in return, which had him jolting slightly, eyes darting everywhere before looking to his feet and smiling to himself with a pump of his eyebrows. Was it bad to think that was hot?

What?! He liked his women possessive. Or more so he liked you possessive, but he’d never say that. He’d die again before he did.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to play it off. “Anyway, we’d appreciate if you kept this on the DL, away from our associate, Agent Pierce. Tall, with the hair.” He gestured up to his head, referencing Sammy’s gorgeous hair. “He’s a real prude.”

You faux-scoffed in agreement, internally apologising to Sam. Dean wasn’t. “Oh, yeah, that guy. He’s a real suck up to the big boys back in DC.”

“A grass to the brass.”

“Puts the tittle with the tattle.”

“Can’t keep his mouth good and shut.”

“Snitches get stitches, am I right? You know the type.” You waved the shifter off with a small, rich laugh. “And I’d like to keep my job, see this hunk lookin’ all delicious in a suit.” You gently tapped Dean’s chest, then you realised that you had to get out of there before things got overly hormonal and suspicious.

“You’re the one who’s lookin’ goddamn edible, doll.” Dean drawled, nuzzling your neck with his nose, his acting skills surprisingly good. You kept on having to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. Disappointingly.

“Anyway, well, we have to head out before Agent Pierce gets suspicious.” You hopped off the table, picking up Dean’s blazer and tie, having him hold it while you did his tie up like a good fake girlfriend. “There we go, hon.”

“Always making sure I look good, baby.” He kissed your cheek quickly, and as you strutted out in those goddamn heels with a wink back to Dean, your hair messy, cheeks flushed, hips swaying and lipstick smeared, he let his eyes roam over your ass framed in that skirt with a lick of his lips, seeing the shifter guy doing the same- wait, what?!

Now, that was downright unacceptable. Only Dean got to check out your ass. Wait, that came out wrong. You weren’t even his.

Though he wished you’d be. Then he’d get to kiss those lips like that and actually breach second base.

“Quite a girl you got there, Agent.” The shifter guy smirked, looking at Dean with an impressed nod. “Fiery.”

Dean chuckled, nodding and stepping closer. “Yeah.” He bent so his mouth was right by the monster’s ear, even though he was itching to get out his silver knife and finish the job, talking in a rough tone that made the shifter forget he was a monster. “Look at her like that again and I’ll break your face.”

I appreciate feedback so much, guys!

Taglist: @hobby27 @k-slla

[sschizoid]

Hello :3 may I pretty please request like, hcs of the tulpar crew traveling together?

I mean imagine this, they gather all their last paychecks from Pony Express and decide a place to go, how, what to see...etc

I just think I'd have some fun dynamics

omg hehe this ask has so much room for fun interpretation, like where are they going, how they're getting there, etc. but I think I'm gonna narrow this down tooooo badadadadadadadadum AIRPORT! where they're going is up to you!

-- curly

he's what you would call an Airport Dad™. wakes up EARLY to pack everything into the car and to pick everyone else up. keeps worrying that they're going to be late but they end up arriving 3 hours before boarding

overpacks. has a checked luggage just barely within weight parameters, as well as a carry-on AND a backpack. he packs for every scenario, every weather type, every activity

he's the one that bought everybody's ticket and holds onto them for safekeeping. he's also got one of those airline SkyMile credit cards, so he got everyone a pretty good deal regarding expenses!

brought one of those neck pillows since he gets stiff pretty easily when sitting down for too long. also brought one of those cooling eye masks and comfy socks. bro is the plane equivalent of a passenger princess

jimmy

he was still sleeping when curly got to his house. oh also he forgot to pack the night before, so he makes everyone wait in the car for 30 extra minutes while he takes his sweet ass time shoving random shit into a backpack

probably the least traveled of the group. his family never took vacations when he was growing up, so the furthest he's been from home is just a state or two, and even then it was just for work and not leisure

takes up as much space as humanly possible, stretching his legs, spreading his elbows wide, etc. if the person sitting next to him tries to ask for a bit more space, he puts on headphones after the fact then pretends he doesn't hear them

definitely the type to glare at the mother of a crying baby in hopes of making her feel embarrassed or ashamed

anya

super forgetful and cannot remember if she packed toiletries or not. oh god, what about socks? did she pack socks ??? ends up spending $50 on various airport-priced items just in case

lowkey really scared of flying. she's done it tons of times before but still white-knuckle clenches the armrests during takeoff

brings lots of books. this is a great time for her to catch up on the reading she's been putting off with all of her work and schooling

never gets to reading said books, and instead sleeps like a log the whole trip. she's tired !!

swansea

was the only person ready in time when curly came around to pick everyone up. like, standing outside on the porch, bags at his feet ready

waits 20 minutes in line for coffee, but when he gets to the front and sees that a 12oz black drip is $5 he turns around and walks away. complains about airport prices for the next few hours, talking about "highway robbery" until they're finally boarded

"remember to pop your ears, you'll get a headache if you don't"

aisle seat. NEEDS an aisle seat. if the ticket curly bought him isn't in the aisle, he'll shamelessly ask other passengers to switch with him. he likes the extra leg room and ease of access to the bathroom

daisuke

makes the metal detector go off multiple times. "oops, forgot my belt!" BEEP "oh, man, that's probably my keys, sorry." BEEP "oh shit, my phone!" BEEP "waitwaitwait hold on hold on—"

his goal is to be that one person you see in passing at the airport that is just the most beautiful stranger you've ever seen. his hair? styled. his skin? dewy. his fit? fun, colorful, and literally insane for the setting. he dresses to impress!

checking out all the shops and food options before boarding, just straight wandering off without saying anything. comes back 20 min later with a keychain that says "I LEFT MY ❤️ AT ______ INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT" because he thinks its funny as fuck

insists he take the window seat but keeps the curtain closed the entire flight because the sun is casting a glare on his handheld

--

THANK UUUU for your request, I hope this is sufficient! if anyone else has any requests; my asks are open !! ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊωˋ )ଓ⁾⁾

[evilminji]

You know what would be hilarious? The Totally Normal Collage Life of one Valerie Gray(tm)!

She PROMISED you see.

It is fuled by the unspeakable rage of every one of her ancestors trying to do their damn job at on 2 hours of sleep and no coffee. Maternal line, of course. Her FATHER'S bloodline is bizarrely chill.

But dear LORD you should have seen her grandpa yeeting hooligans into composting heaps for getting in the way of his early morning baking. You don't MESS with grandpa's bakery, people learned THAT fast. Long time Amity natives the lot of um! All sorts of interests. That side of the family got real... ob.. sessive....

Waaaaaait a second. She's connecting some dots.

Not important! (Currently.)

See, her dad WORRIES. And SHE worries cause her dad worries. So she PROMISED! No funny business. No ghosts. And NO, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, crime fighting! Just go to her classes and get good grades. Focus on setting her self up for a good future.

O7 yes sir, dad sir! Fuck them ghosts and their nonsense!

So she studied like the brilliant young woman she is. Got FANTASTIC scholarships. Checked out the various colleges. And??

Honestly?

Vibes were RANCID.

Some city's were too... twee? If that makes sense? And some too "time fucky". Others felt "magical nonsense" and "barren Ectoplasmic wasteland"? And the last few were just kinda racist, so that was not happening. Like the CITIES were fine! But the SCHOOLS were... Subtext Heavy.

She might have had to break somebody if she stayed their too long.

She's heard Paulina's going to one of those, though. So... Ha! Rip in pieces fuckos. She honestly can't wait too see THAT gruesome trainwreck from a safe distance. Paulina's gonna THRIVE. Its probably why she even CHOSE that school.

Where was she? Oh, right!

She's deeply fucked and it's Batman's fault!

See, Valerie? Kinda chose Gotham U. It... wasn't her WISEST choice for her "totally normal, crime fighting free, young adult adventures(tm)" but like? What can you do? Gotham just feels so HOMEY!

And MAYBE she gets a little too relaxed. Too tired from a long day of studying.

Some rando tries to mug her with riddles or something! Look, she was TIRED. Not listening. She kicks his ass and goes home. And the plant protest lady. Or that crocodile not-a-ghost?! And YEAH, maybe flying to class wasn't the BEST idea! But like?

How was SHE supposed to know someone saw her?!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

i’ll be home for christmas

fiance!joe x fem!reader

summary: a bulleted blurb/fic about you surprising joe in athens on christmas.

warnings: NSFW, 18+. mdni. p in v, slight dacryphilia, not tooo descriptive.

note: my first bulleted fic with smut?? kinda feels like a crack fic but lmao it was so fun. love yaaaa 🫶🏻

joe was bored

he came to athens to be with his family because you

his lovely fiancée

the light of his life, even

you were away. on a business trip. IN LONDON

at christmas time?? CRIMINAL

but honestly like. joe could’ve stayed in cincinnati

gone to the facility every day. watched film. all that

HOWEVER

his mother convinced him to come home. AND FOR GOOD REASON

because you were conspiring

you were gonna make it home to surprise him. it was going to be sO EXCITING

you called robin to plan it all out. she was also SO EXCITED and she got you and joe some matching pajamas (that she had to hide)

she couldn’t tell jimmy or joe’s brothers you were coming

because they would’ve absolutely told joe considering he was MOPING

and like he’s a grumpy ass in general. BUT WITH YOU GONE?? OVER CHRISTMAS???

*insert grumpy pic of squidward here*

for days he sat and moped. and scrolled his phone. and just chatted with you

poor lil baby joey. texting you like

joe: miss ya

y/n: i miss you bub 🥺

joe: i love my family but it’s different without you

y/n: i know. i hate that i have to miss it. but work is going okay! i’ve learned so much while i’ve been here

joe: i’m glad to hear it baby. i can’t wait until you’re back

y/n: it’ll be sooner than you know it <3

joe: wish it was right now. miss your pretty face

y/n: attachment: 1 image *photo of you in one of his hoodies, showing off a pout with a coffee mug in hand, your gold necklace with a ‘j’ charm on full display*

y/n: miss you 😭

joe: wanna kiss those pretty lips

and GOD

YOU WANTED TO TELL HIM SO BAD. but you knew the pay-off of making him wait would be so daMN good

finally. it was time to fly back home. you had a window seat. thanK GOd. would you be jet-lagged? yes. did it matter? nO

robin arranged it ALL for you (what a saint) and you were able to arrive in the states on the 23rd

she had someone pick you up from the airport and drive you to their house, and you literally drug your luggage into the garage (you’d make joe get it later)

now. to enact your elaborate plan

you walked up the front porch steps SUPER CAREFUL not to be seen

you rang the doorbell

“joey can you get the door”

you can practically feel him grumbling after being asked to do that

but when he opens it. and it’S YOU???

IT’S YOU????

you’re in his arms in less than a second. just completely enveloped by him. he’s pressing a kiss into the top of your head

“you tricked me”

“but aren’t you glad i did?” you’re smirking as you look up at him

and he’s never felt happier. never felt such peace. because you’re here

you come inside and say hi to everyone and make a little small talk before retiring to joe’s room because

A BITCH IS TIRED

it doesn’t take you long to fall asleep, right there in his star-wars themed room

you and joe are awake by 1am

nobody else is, and you intend to keep it that way but

YOU HAVEN’T SEEN EACH OTHER IN SO LONG

joe kisses you tenderly on the lips, his hands roaming your body, peeling off your layers of clothing

you’re undressing him too, taking your time as your hands map each others skin

you laugh into the kiss, your eyes are focused on the wall

“hmm?” joe whispers to you, wondering what’s funny

“i think your anakin poster is staring at me”

“well don’t make eye contact with him”

finally the two of you are fully naked, still pressing kisses to each others skin, taking your sweet time

and trying yoUR BEST to be quiet (it’s hard to be quiet)

after what seems like forever of loving kisses and tender touches, joe lines himself up and presses his cock between your folds, pushing into you

you let out a soft gasp and immediately

“quiet, princess”

“m’sorry” you say, muffled from your hand covering your mouth

joe shoves a pillow between the headboard and the wall just in case because

IT’S GONNA BE CLANGING IF NOT

he takes his time with you, unraveling you so slowly

because again, it has been SO LONG

and he’s got you in the mating press

you’re biting back moans, every sensation feels like a live wire in your skin

and he hits you with that slow, deep thrust

the deadly hip swivel

tears are falling from your eyes, it’s so much but it feels sO good

“feel good, baby? love seeing you cry for me”

his voice. he’s so

perfect

sexy

amazing

when he talks you through it? oH GOd

“taking it so good. doing such a good job being quiet for me”

you loSE YOUR MIND

you can’t help it, you’re cumming around him

and still, he’s talking you through, helping you along as his fingers trace delicate patterns over your clit

“that’s it. good girl. doing so well”

and he makes you cum two more times before you’re finally ready for a shower

then you’re clean and back his his bed

now he’s falling asleep

AND SHE’S CALLING A CAB

no but really he falls asleep with his head resting on your chest

when you wake up christmas eve (technically you already were, but) you go upstairs and have breakfast with everyone

it’s so nice, his family is so loving

and you spend the whole day laughing, snacking, baking, and most of all just enjoying being back home with joe

he’s glad you’re back too

christmas morning is exciting as well. in more ways than one ;)

but afterrrrr you get to go upstairs in mATCHING PAJAMAS

and relax. and watch the kids open gifts. and most importantly

you get to watch football

joe’s the happiest you’ve ever seen him. and you’re so glad to be here

home for christmas is the best place to be 🫶🏻

photos and dividers are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow @yomamaslays4lyfe @gazebotori