#would be a shame if someone shot them a bit

[eeriedragone]

Comic idea that i got possessed by, but not for long enough to finish it

i saw this comic by @pepegle where lawrence fuckin dies (presumably) and i loved it, and @internetusercucumber has also been murdering her blorbo a bunch, so it got me thinking as well

what if lawrence got hurt, but it wasn't visible until it stained the white if benitez' clothes or smt?

[julymusings]

simplicity

out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home

or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]

jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason “my girl can wear whatever she wants I can fight” Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⎯ based on this !

series masterlist

A humid, crowded, upscale club isn’t the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, it’s not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances at his own business.

“It’s a night out,” he had said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

If you’re being honest, it’s also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress that’s been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.

All in all, you would say you’re making the most of it. 

You’re sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. He’s half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. She’s freaking out because one of the performers hasn’t shown up, and there’s no one else to go in her place.

Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. “I’m sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here.” You smile over the rim of your glass.

He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.

“Just keep an eye out,” he tells him. “I don’t trust these entitled country club fuckers.”

He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, “Especially not when you look like that,” and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.

A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged-looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.

“Jesus Christ,” the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, “Gimme a second.”

You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about “shitty customer service.” 

You don’t get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. “You look thirsty. Got this for you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” You hold your own glass up.

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty thing like you should be takin’ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettin’.” His smile sends a chill down your spine.

“Again, I’m fine,” you say, a little harsher. “My boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.”

He laughs. It’s a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. “I don’t see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. I’d treat you much better than him.” His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. It’s not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if he’s still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this man’s safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. “Come on, honey, it’s a compliment. Show a little thanks. I don’t bite.”

You don’t have to be the world’s finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.

You could just rebuff him, walk away. But you’re willing to bet he’d just move on to the next woman. One who’s probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.

“Oops,” you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.

“You bitch,” he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. “I was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?”

You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isn’t giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of women’s self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didn’t do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. You’re not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. He’s not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they won’t make it in time. You weren’t scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didn’t have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. You’re backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.

There is a resounding pop when the man’s knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the man’s arm behind his back. 

When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled by the pressure with which he’s flattened against the table.

“Who the fuck let this happen,” Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.

Jason’s livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like he’s putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. He’s putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isn’t Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. It’s a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; he’s never like this with you. He’s always just…Jason. Your Jason.

One of his men speaks up. “We’re sorry, Boss, we were keepin’ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.”

Jason scowls. “Trouble that required all of you?”

At their silence, he rolls his eyes. “Idiots,” he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. “Someone take care of this.” He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. “And for fuck’s sake, check him for anything else.” 

While they’re busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.

“Are you okay?” His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. “I’m so sorry, honey, this is my fault. It’s my fault for leaving you alone.” He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.

You pull back and cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Jay, I’m fine. I promise.” You lean in to kiss him and feel his shoulders relax.

“Jesus, man, sorry! Wouldn’t’a come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did ‘ya pay for her, anyway?” His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, he’s gone. He’s like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.

He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You know what?” You can’t be sure who he’s speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. “I’ll take care of this.” He faces you. “Can you give me a minute? Is that okay?” His voice is calm.

You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe you’re feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll come find you,” he says, stepping away, and you nod.

“Ross,” he commands. “Take her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.” Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about who’s getting fired for this.” You catch some of his men flinch.

He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.

You’ve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. It’s amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but you’re still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads ‘RESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTER’ open for you, and you smile in thanks.

Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jason’s office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.

It’s a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about ‘men and their awful interior designing skills.’

“It’s not ‘bad skills,’ it’s cost-effective. ‘M runnin’ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.” He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.

You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jason’s desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.

 Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. “Do you need anything?” He asks you.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“‘Course. I’ll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.” He moves to exit, but pauses. “Look,” he says, “We’re all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “God knows the boss does.”

You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay, Ross,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t blame you. And Jason’s not gonna fire any of you, okay? I won’t let him.”

He exhales. “Okay, you—yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Listen, Todd’s always been a great boss. But it’s no joke when it comes to you. Don’t know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, he’s just…different. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to say…we’re glad he has you.”

His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door. 

At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. There’s a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings you’re wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadn’t been there…the thought leaves you cold.

There are voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.

“Baby? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. There are some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and he’s holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that he’s the one who needs first aid.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. “Did he hurt you?”

Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. He’s Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. “Should I be insulted by you asking me that?” He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns but doesn’t say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, none of it’s mine.”

You sigh in relief. “You didn’t…kill him, did you?”

He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. “Nah…did you want me to? ‘Cause I can still—”

“No.”

He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. It’s so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. They’re a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.

“How bad is he? Like, on a scale of ‘he can walk it off’ to ‘he needs to go to the hospital.’”

Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“He…he’s walking himself to the hospital.”

There’s not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.

From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. They’re the children’s ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.

“Robin? Really?”

Jason breathes out a small laugh. “One of my guys’ daughter loves him.” He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow ‘R’.

He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. They’re not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. He’s quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.

"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.

"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."

You beam under his pride.

He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. There’s a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know he’s beating himself up about it.

“Hey.” The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise. I love you.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.” He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.

You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. It’s surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night as a fighter, a crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.

You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.

am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoops🤷‍♀️);

the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...

divider is from here

[missdynamighttt]

thinking abt katsuki who gets mad when u put a pillow on ur lap when he lays down on it 💔💔 AND THIS IS FOR THE CHUBBY GIRLS W THICK THIGHS!!! urgh katsuki would so love a pluz size girl he would be all over her

katsuki was pouting. actually, no—he was sulking. that'd probably because he was in hell. not the kind with fire and demons, no, this was worse.

you had barely sat down on the couch before he sprawled out dramatically, resting his head in your lap like he always did.

it was his favorite place to be, right on top of you, wrapped up in your warmth, your scent, your presence.

but today, you did the unthinkable.

because right in front of him, you had the audacity, the sheer disrespect, to place a pillow on your lap. his lap. the lap that he was supposed to lay on, unfiltered, unobstructed, completely consuming you like he deserved.

“what the fuck is this?” he grumbled, glaring at the offensive object like it personally insulted his entire bloodline.

“it’s a pillow, katsuki,” you replied, suppressing a smile.

“yeah? no shit, why is it here?” his voice was all sorts of offended, like you had personally wronged him in the worst way possible. “i don’t wanna lay on some dumb pillow—i wanna lay on you.”

you rolled your eyes. “maybe i don’t want your heavy-ass head on my legs all the time.”

“oh, please,” he scoffed, shifting so he could grab at your thighs. his fingers squeezed your flesh, his grip firm but greedy. “these are mine. they’re meant for me. not a goddamn pillow.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh while his red eyes flicked between you and the pillow like he was debating setting it on fire. “katsuki—”

“no.” he glared at the pillow like it was his sworn enemy. “you’re warm. you’re soft. you’re perfect. and you’re putting this thing between us?”

he sounded actually hurt, as if the pillow was personally getting in the way of his love for you. “why would you do that to me?”

you blinked at him. “are you really getting this worked up over a pillow?”

“yes.” he said it without shame, without hesitation. “now move it.”

you raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “and what do i get if i do?”

he smirked, shifting so his hand trailed up your thigh, squeezing with purpose. “oh, baby, you know what you’ll get.”

you sighed dramatically, pretending to be reluctant as you removed the pillow.

the instant it was gone, katsuki squished his face into your thighs with a satisfied groan, wrapping his arms around your waist like he was afraid you’d take it away again.

“never pull that shit again,” he mumbled, nuzzling into you. “i got the best damn thighs in the world, and you wanna cover ‘em up with some dumbass pillow? over my dead body."

he sighed deeply, like he had just endured the greatest hardship known to man. his face was completely buried in your thighs, as if he could merge with them if he tried hard enough.

"see?" he murmured, voice slightly muffled against your thigh. "this is how it's supposed to be. no stupid pillow. just you."

you rolled your eyes, but the fond smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. "you’re such a drama queen."

"yeah, and you're my throne, so shut up and let me enjoy it," he shot back, already closing his eyes like he planned to stay there forever.

you huffed a laugh as you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. his grip on you tightened, a pleased hum vibrating against your skin as he melted into your touch.

for someone so explosive, so rough around the edges, he sure acted like a needy housecat when it came to you.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒���┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ anon ilysm for requesting this, i really do. i'm probably writing the breeding kink next after this, considering it a 4k special since we're going so fast😭 lmk if you wanna be tagged and i hope you guys enjoy💗💗

[rafesangelita]

♡ everyone is lucky farmer’s!daughter!reader is in a jail cell when she finds out her favorite sheriff isn’t around because he’s on a date with another woman..

warnings: mentions of being groped in public, just a little bit of southern dialect, small town gossip, mentions of jj x reader, lots of comebacks and insults, jealousy, implied age gap, reader stays the night in jail, hitting, very slight physical altercation, reassurance, comfort (?), little bit of kissing, suggestive ending

a/n: read more of sheriff!rafe and farmer’s!daughter!reader here <3 i would say this particular situation takes place in the beginning stages of their complicated relationship lol. read how sheriff!rafe’s date went here!

wc: 1.5k

“what did she do this time?” sheriff thornton looked up from his desk, an amused smile playing on his lips as you glared at him from under your lashes. “she threw drinks over at keith’s son, ‘said he groped her and all hell broke loose.” your wrists ached as the metal of the handcuffs dug into your skin, your boots scuffing the concrete flooring before the sheriff behind you plopped you down in a chair. “she gave me a hard time and resisted arrest, so now she’s here.” you scoffed at his words, a bitter laugh emitting from your throat. “i gave you a hard time because you tried to apprehend me before the asshole that started it!”

both of them ignored you, leaving you to sit uncomfortably in the main office while bryan, the newest rookie in the department, got your paperwork together. “uhm— do you have anyone you could call? it looks like you’re going to stay the night in here..” he looked almost scared as he broke the news to you, his eyes blinking rapidly as you shot daggers at him from where you sat. “are you pulling my leg?” you narrowed your gaze, “there’s no way in hell i’m spending the night here.” you shook your head, hopping onto your feet. just then, topper came in and sat you back down.

“i’m already in the shit house with rafe for manhandling you last time, don’t make me do it again.” speaking of rafe.. “you’re not scaring anybody, topper.” you used his first name against him, catching him off guard. “where’s sheriff cameron, anyways? i’m sure he’d love to know that you haven’t fixed my skirt since i’ve gotten here. i think the new boy has already stolen a peek at my underwear.” bryan’s eyes widened at your words. “i haven’t, miss, i swear!” topper glanced over at him with irritation evident on his face. “she’s fuckin’ with you kid, jesus.”

dragging you up by your arm, topper lead you to the back where the holding cells were. “it’s a shame you’re wearing nearly nothing,” he shoved you inside, “it’s gets pretty cold in here.” you cursed under your breath when he finally uncuffed you, your fingers itching to punch him square in the mouth. he watched as you adjusted your denim mini skirt, his eyes trailing down your bare legs. “you’re a mystery, y’know.. ‘way too young to be acting up like this.” if you had a penny for every time someone brought up your age, you’d have enough money to leave this shitty town and never look back.

“and you’re just annoying.” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest before sitting at the edge of the cold steel bed. you should’ve been used to the discomfort by now, considering you’re here at least once a month, but you still couldn’t help but shiver at the harsh contact. “i need to talk to sheriff cameron. i shouldn’t even be here.” topper walked out of the cell, locking it shut behind him. “yeah, well he’s not on duty tonight. my pal finally scored himself a date.” he laughed. you felt your stomach twist at his words. not a damn thing was funny. “what did you say?” your voice was barely above a whisper when you looked up at him and met his eyes.

“yeah,” he nodded, “me and the department decided we’d stitch him up with ms. belle, she teaches the children’s sunday school down at the church.” he winked. your leg was bouncing now, your chest heaving with anger as your eyes brimmed with tears. “who knows, maybe after tonight they’ll be the newlyweds of the town.” you looked down at your feet before topper could question anything, your nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. once you heard the heavy metal door slam shut, you covered your mouth with your hand as tight as you could and screamed.

rafe was so scared of what people would think of you two, he never showed you affection in public, let alone take you out on a proper date, yet here he was; willingly taking someone else. no matter how many times you told him you didn’t care about what anyone thought, he insisted that it was for your own good that no one saw you running around with a man who was much older than you were. the people of this town were far too judgmental to just accept something like what you and rafe had. figuring it was pointless to use your one free phone call, you settled into the hard surface before curling up and shivering yourself to sleep.

“y/n..” it was the next morning, and you were far from letting go of the information you found out last night. “y/n, you’re free to go.” your eyes were open as rafe patted your back lightly, his touch only fueling you with pent up anger. turning around, you shoved his hand away, your eyes bloodshot from crying so much. “don’t touch me again,” you hissed, “not ever.” rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you got up on sore legs. “i had to stay here all because you were too busy with someone else!” you spat, shoving him again except this time in his chest.

“hey, you stop that!” he said through gritted teeth, shooting up to his feet before backing you up against the cement wall. “i hate you!” you whispered, attempting to get out of his grip. your efforts were deemed useless of course, your strength being nothing compared to his. “no you don’t.” he pinned your wrists down by your sides. he hated when you said shit like that, then again he knew you had every right to feel the way you did. nothing about your shared arrangement was fair, especially for you. “i went on that date for the sake of getting everyone off of my back, alright? it didn’t mean a thing.”

you laughed, avoiding his heated gaze. “well surely it meant something, because you agreed. you agreed and got ready and dressed nicely for her. you fixed your hair, you shaved, you put on your best smelling cologne and you picked her up. don’t you dare tell me it didn’t mean nothing when you put in that much effort.” rafe blinked, his nostrils flaring as he cupped your chin and forced you to look at him. “it didn’t mean a thing.” he repeated. you stared at him, reading his eyes as best as you could. “sure.” to say you were hurt would be an understatement.

“i mean it,” he started, “i did it for appearances. i’ve never been married, i don’t have any children. people talk around here, y/n, and just recently did i hear something about us both. people are catching onto your ‘get out of jail’ free card, and you could only imagine what their reasoning for that was.” he grimaced, recalling the disgusting words filtering the air of the diner where he drank his morning coffee. while the claims weren’t completely false, his said intentions couldn’t be more wrong. “rafe,” you glared at him, “i. don’t. care.” not wanting to rile you up any further, he let go of you before you could get the bright idea to knee him in his manhood.

“you know.. how do you think i feel when i have to see you around here kissing jj fuckin’ maybank, and i can’t do shit about it, huh? how do you think i feel when i see him have his hands all over you? you think i like that shit?” you rolled your eyes, about to step out of the open cell before he shut it closed. “why do you do that? why do you get joy out of pissing me off?” rafe caged you between his arms, his gun holster digging into your hip.

“first of all, i’m keeping up appearances just like you.” you stood up on your tippy toes, pecking his cheek before you placed your lips right next to his ear. “and secondly; you only act like you care about me when i’m all over someone else. it’s either that or i have to get into legal trouble just to get you to myself. so you try to imagine what that makes me feel like.” you pulled him close by the buckle of his belt, his large hands finding your hips as he towered over you. “do i really have to go to jail just to get a kiss?” rafe leaned down, his lips finally taking your own. he groaned at the taste of you, your cherry lipgloss still sticky with its sweetness.

you two stayed kissing like this until he grew rock solid in his pants, the buckle of his belt not being the only thing poking your tummy. “i don’t want you with any other women. i can’t take it.” rafe nodded, his bottom lip shining with your gloss. “you have my word, sweetheart. i’ll set aside time for us to be together, i promise.” his sheriff’s hat tipped to the side, revealing his buzzed scalp. “but if i see you with that maybank kid again i’ll have to lock him up for good.” you smiled, your red nails raking down his buff arms. “yes, sir.” rafe cursed at the nickname as he glanced down at the digital watch on his wrist.

“i got about an hour to spare..” you hummed at his words, palming him through his pants.

“well what are we waiting for?”

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer

series masterlist | main masterlist | part ii

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: you're driving back home and, unbeknownst to you, you've committed quite a few traffic offences, noticed by the one and only police officer, joel miller. he's not gonna let you get your way that easily.

a/n: umm hello?? idk what happened, but here we are. i threw this idea to the wind, people seemed to like it, so i started typing and this is what came out. read the warnings and do not judge me please lol this is inspired by this and this ask, so kudos to them! so basically i have decided to start a series of one shots where joel miller wears different uniforms. YEAH, i know, i'm not okay but that's okay. if you guys have any suggestions for this series, my askbox is open! also, i've decided that if i/you guys want, i can write the same uniformed!joel more than once (e.g. two fics of police officer!joel). if someone is interested in being in the taglist for this series, please do let me know. anyways, i do appreciate all comments, reblogs, likes and asks. as always thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. filthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). alcohol consumption (reader is sober by the time it happens). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. rough, public sex. unprotected piv. creampie. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~4.6k.

tagging some people who seemed to be v interested (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@fartcloudfartcloud @liciafonseca @fan-fiction-floozy @sweetlummie

“Shit”, you mumbled as the car keys slipped off your fingers.

You crouched down and blindly dabbed the asphalt, your phone falling off your hand too. You grunted in frustration ― maybe you did drink a bit more than what you had intended. Not to the point where you thought it would be dangerous, otherwise you wouldn’t be driving home. You were already clumsy when sober, so this was no sign of anything, really.

The keys had tumbled under your car, so you got on all fours and bent over to reach. After a few trials, you finally got hold of them. Steadying yourself on the handle of the driver’s side of your car, you got up. Your tiny, fitted skirt had scrunched up at your waist, so you pulled from the hem to bring it back down. Looking around, you hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone.

You had dressed up for the occasion. As you grew older, your group of friends slowly drifted apart, so agreeing on a date and time to meet up had been a fucking miracle. You had been out since midday and sipped on many margaritas to quench your thirst. But knowing you would need to drive back home, you had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. If you could, you would have gotten hammered. Living in the outskirts of Austin sucked.

You managed to finally open your vehicle and sat down. You hunched down, avoiding the steering wheel, to undo your heels. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips when you took them off ― your feet were hurting so bad, you questioned all of your life choices. A minute later the motor roared awake, and you were on your merry way without a hitch.

That was until you drove out of the city center onto not very well-lit roads. You were driving through an industrial estate when sirens went off behind you. Clicking your tongue, you looked through the rearview mirror, thinking it may be an ambulance asking you to give way.

Ah, no, you were very mistaken. It was a freaking police car, and it seemed like it was asking you to pull over. Great, just fucking great, you thought.

The headlights blinded you, so you couldn’t see the man approaching your car. Then you heard a tap, tap, tap on your window, the officer dazing you with the torchlight. You inhaled deeply, putting on your best smile, and rolled down the window.

“Good evening, officer. What can I do for ya?”, you battered your eyelashes at him, still dazzled by the torchlight.

Maybe if you played all sweet and innocent, he would take pity on you and let you go.

However, you were met with a deep, husky voice.

“License and proof of insurance”, he barked, no good evening miss, no please, nothing. So rude.

When he put down the torch, you caught a glimpse of the guy’s face. Bearded jaw with a prominent moustache, brown curly hair with slivers of silver, an attractive hooked nose, and some devilish hazel eyes. He was in his mid or late forties and was so fucking handsome you almost drooled at the sight.

You bit your bottom lip, a lopsided smile curling at the corners.

“Yes, of course, officer”, your voice was sweet and smooth as you bowed over the passenger’s seat, your boobs casually resting on the steering wheel.

You opened the glove box and handed him the papers, faking the most innocent, girly look you could muster.

“Is there something wrong, officer?”, you asked, leaning on the door frame, gifting him with the tentative sight of your deep cleavage.

His eyes wandered off the papers he was holding and lingered where you intended. You read the tag on his shirt: Officer Miller. Well, Officer Miller looked damn good in that tight uniform. The black shirt clung to his flexed biceps, the buttons slightly giving way to the bulge of his chest, the belt hugging his waist and… good fucking lord, those thighs, the size of a rugby player’s.

Your mouth watered.

You would lie to yourself if you said you were not affected by his presence. In fact, your damp cunt might as well fucking disagree with you. You pressed your knees together, unconsciously looking for some relief to the sudden wet heat gathering in between your legs.

His eyes drifted up lazily, locking on to yours. You swore a muscle on his jaw twitched.

“You were speeding, doing 40 on a 30-mph road. And your headlights are off”, he replied, his tone raspy.

Fuuuuuuuck, that’s why I couldn’t see shit. Were you that drunk? You didn’t feel like it.

Your face expression didn’t flinch, playing dumb might just do the trick. So you giggled, smacking your forehead with the palm of your hand.

“Ah, silly me. But it was well lit up until now, sir, so no harm done, right?”, your honeyed voice pleaded. “I swear this was a 40-mph road a couple of months ago?”

“It was but got changed. Did you not see the road sign?”, he seemed to be very annoyed.

You had no time to answer, because Officer Miller pointed to your lap. For a second you panicked ― surely your arousal had not drenched your clothes, right? You were aware of how wet your pussy was, but not to that extreme. Right? You looked down ― your phone was resting on your lap, but nothing else. A wave of relief overcame you and then you glanced up at him, confused.

“You were talking on the phone while driving, I presume.”

You gasped and promptly shook no with your head.

“No, no, officer. You see, I left it there when I got in the car, I forgot it was on my lap. I promise I wasn’t texting or anything like that.” Your explanation was genuine, but he cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”

“Why? Because you’re a good girl?”. That question caught you off guard and turned you on at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit twitched. You gaped and nodded unwittingly. “I see. Step out of the car.”

Your heart was racing, attempting to jump out of your chest. Maybe you had been too suggestive. But he was the embodiment of the law, surely the officer had had his good share of temptation and would not yield so easily.

You got out of your sedan, slightly dishevelled, and tugged at your skirt so it would stop riding up your thighs. Officer Miller had taken one step back, his eyes measuring you from top to bottom, loitering on your breasts. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his bottom lip ― you were mesmerised by the simple gesture and pondered how it would feel if you choked on his tongue.

That thought made your cunt gush some more. You pursed your lips ― eyes on him, trying to convey normalcy.

“You’ve been drinking and have also been driving barefoot. That’s a total of, what, five offences?”. Miller clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It’s like you’re begging to spend the night in a cell.” His eyes flickered with malice ― and something else. Lust?

You really did not want to sleep in a cell tonight. You just wanted to get home, that was all. Also, most of your “offences” were bullshit. You were certain he couldn’t charge you with half of it, but his wickedness made you wary.

“I’m not drunk,” you said with a languid smile, touching his forearm, his arms crossed at his chest. “I stopped drinking two hours ago, officer.”

He raised an eyebrow ― Officer Miller didn’t believe a word you said.

“I can smell it.” You didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but his eyes drifted down to your pussy.

“I-It?”, you repeated, lips parted.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long minute. Your bravery had flaked a bit, although your cunt was begging for him to do something about it.

Joel was having a hard time curbing his horniness. You were so inviting, so insinuating, it was like you were asking to be fucked there and then. Oh, yes, you were, he knew you were. Showing off your boobs, wetting your lips, rubbing your knees together, playing with the edge of your tiny skirt. He had noticed every single one of your seductive attempts.

His cock was hard, so much so that it was stretching against the zipper of his work trousers. He kept his arms crossed, but what he really wanted to do was to readjust his erection so it wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable.

“Turn around, hands on the car”, he ordered with a steely voice.

You first looked muddled, but finally obliged, giving him your back ― your palms resting on the roof of your car, your knees pressed together. He was sure your cunt was pulsing, and you were just trying to calm yourself down.

The thought made him mad with lechery. His dick was throbbing already.

“I’m going to pat you down, and then I’m gonna cuff you. Understood?”, he warned you, getting close to you.

You suddenly looked over your shoulder, your smile unwavering. You tilted your pelvis back, your ass against his bulge. You glanced down and then back up at him decisively.

“I’m sure we can work something out, officer?”, you whispered, your butt pressing on his swollen lump.

No, Joel was not imagining things. You were definitely asking to be fucked senseless in exchange for just a warning. He was still contemplating whether to entertain the idea or not. You were tempting, he would give you that. Your body was built to satisfy a man’s pleasure ― he could see that even when you were clothed. Barely clothed. Your top was too small, your boobs almost spilling over the neckline; your skirt was too short, your ass cheeks almost visible ― and he was sure you had some slutty heels on before you jumped into the car.

His cock jerked at the thought of rearranging your guts. Because that was what Joel would do to you if he had the chance. He cupped his groin for a second now that you were not looking, pressing it slightly to relieve some of the tension.

It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He suppressed a frustrated groan.

Joel slotted his right knee in between your legs and forced you to separate them, his heavy boot grounding him. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re under arrest for at least reckless driving. Now stay still.” He was fully aware of how the top of his thigh brushed your crotch, but made a titanic effort to ignore it, for his own sanity.

Your panties were so fucking drenched, you feared your discharge might start dripping down your inner thighs. In fact, you let your head down to check discreetly and sighed with relief ― nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

Then he forcefully parted your legs, and you felt the fabric of his trousers sliding against your wet panties. The subtle touch made you jerked your hips up and then back down in surprise, your clothed cunt flushed against his thigh ― you had to swallow the sluttiest moan of your entire life, it felt damn good.

“I’m― I’m sorry”, you mumbled, lifting your body up to break the contact.

You didn’t need to look down to know that there would be a wet patch on his black trousers.

“You should be, making a mess of my uniform like that”, he grunted, exasperated.

Pressing your lips, you inspected every inch of the roof of your car while he patted you down. His big, calloused hands lingered on your underboob longer than necessary, almost cupping them. Both hands travelled down to your waist, his fingertips slightly under the waistband of your skirt.

Your heart was pounding, suddenly unsure of the whole thing. What were you really doing? Were you so desperate that you would let him use you in exchange for letting you go? Were you getting more than what you had bargained for?

It was like the excitement had burnt the last drop of alcohol in your blood and now you were fully aware of what you had unleashed.

But you had no more time to question your attitude, because Officer Miller completely slipped one of his hands under your underwear and buried all of his fingers in your soaked folds, except for his thumb which quickly found your clit. You shut your eyes and moaned audibly, your knees giving way.

His free hand wrapped around your waist to help you stand up, while his fingers traversed your whole slit, from your perineum to your clit, buttering your cunt with your own fluids.

“You are so fucking wet already, you should be ashamed of yourself”, he whispered in your ear while he pushed your ass back into his bulge.

Your treacherous body had awakened at his touch, your clit felt like it was on fire and your cunt was pulsating so hard it was uncomfortable. You rubbed his dick with your buttocks, unconsciously looking for some more friction. Miller groaned behind you, jerking you closer, his cock hard pressed against your ass.

Two of his fingers dipped further down and found your leaking hole, his thumb still rubbing your clit languidly. You whimpered and stirred your hips when one fingertip circled your entrance tentatively. Your back arched, pushing your butt further into his erection.

“Aren’t you a slut?”, he hissed as both fingers slid inside you, your brain not registering his words.

Your moist pussy clenched around his fingers, squeezing them hard. Every time your heart beat, so did your cunt. Officer Miller started fingering you, first slowly, and then picking up a relentless pace. Unable to control yourself, you mewled like a kitten in heat, your forehead now resting against the cold metal of your car and a thread of spit hanging from your mouth. Your needy cunt was so stimulated, so hot, so slippery, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, even if you wanted to.

So you let go. You orgasmed so hard, you squirted with his fingers still dug in your creamy pussy. But you coming didn’t stop Officer Miller from driving his digits inside of you over and over again, forcing another climax on you a minute later. Your inner walls palpitated so violently, you felt the emptiness of your womb. Then you noticed it: the trickle of your own cum streaming down your inner thighs.

Officer Miller forced his fingers out of you, a pop sound making it obvious that your pussy was drown in your own fluids. The cop tapped your pussy a few times, almost gently, as the last wave washed off your nerve endings. You had never come so hard in your life before. Not even your boyfriend of five years had been able to turn you on this bad.

When your limbs regained some strength, Miller let go of your waist and stepped back. You slowly turned around to face him, but as your eyes drifted down his uniform, you realised that there was a new wet patch on his trousers, this time on his bulge. You had leaked so much, you had drenched his own pants.

You tried to find the words to explain to him that this was not what you had intended. Or was it?

“You’re still under arrest”, his voice was resolute, as if nothing of what just happened had affected him.

Before your neurons could make contact with each other, he handcuffed you, your laced hands resting in front of you, conveniently covering your spent pussy.

“But―”.

“No but’s, blackmailing a cop is an offence too. So that makes it six now, right?”, he cut you off.

You huffed, not believing what he was saying. You had not blackmailed him, not even close, he was just making it up now. Before you could argue, Officer Miller removed the keys from the ignition, shut the driver’s door and locked your car. He then grabbed you by your elbow, forcing you to walk in front of him towards his cruiser.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re now just bullying me”, you complained, your sweet façade quickly toppling.

Miller didn’t reply to your taunting. He simply opened the back door of his Crown Vic and threw you in. You almost tripped but manage to stop the falling. You sat down on the seat, your legs still out of the car, bare soles against the asphalt.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your cuffed hands darted up and played with the buckle of his belt. Maybe if you gave him some head, he would relax and let you go. You were already in too deep anyway, your whipped pussy living proof of your desire.

“Officer, please, I can make it worth your while if you let me go”, you muttered, your fingers unclasping his belt.

Miller did not say one word, he just stared you down while you held his gaze. His waist slanted forward in an unspoken invitation, his eyes swirling with lust and wickedness.

You were not sure why you were doing this, or if you wanted to do this. But you were a horny mess, your pulsing cunt urging you to keep going, saturating your panties even more. Sure, you could drive home and ask your boyfriend to take care of you, but by the looks of it, you were going to spend the night in a station cell if you didn't do something about it. About him.

With firm hands, you undid the buckle and unzipped his trousers. His big, meaty cock sprung out with no warning, swaying in front of you. He was wearing no underwear. You marvelled at the sight ― his dick was the longest you had ever seen with a considerable girth, veiny and hairy at the base. It looked scary, but also fucking tempting.

“Don’t just stare, do something”, he commanded, grabbing your cuffed hands to bring them closer to his erection.

Ah, someone is impatient, you thought with a smirk before wrapping both of your hands around his circumference. With your mouth agape, close to his leaking tip, you rubbed the precum against his slit with your thumb and then started pumping him. His cock was palpitating, hard and velvety under your clasp ― and warm, so fucking warm you could feel his blood rushing underneath.

His jaw clenched, his eyes transfixed on your moving hands as you upped the rhythm. And then, without prior notice, he fisted your hair in a ponytail and drove his whole dick down your parted lips. You retched when his glans surpassed your uvula and coughed with his cock still in your mouth.

You were suffocating, but he didn’t give a fuck. In any case, he pushed his cock further down, but it had nowhere to go. His pubic hairs tingled the tip of your nose as you looked up, silently asking for mercy with teary eyes.

Miller glanced down at you and the motherfucker just smiled as you were still gagging.

“Look at you. What a whore, you’re taking it so well”, he mumbled under his breath before pushing your head back.

His cock slid out and you coughed to clear your throat of precum, swallowing it. His brutish attitude, although unwelcome, made your traitor of a cunt gush.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat to teach you a lesson. Open up for me, darlin’.”

You didn’t know why, but you just obeyed. Without breaking visual contact, the cop slotted his cock back in between your lips. With his hands on your temples, he tilted his hips forward until his tip stroked the end of your throat. Then he pulled out harshly and started jackhammering your mouth relentlessly, driving his cock in as far as he could every single time, his hairy balls hitting your chin. With Miller taking the lead, your cuffed hands were free. They were lazily resting on your lap until you dipped them down, your index caressing your deprived clit.

You just took it like a champ. After a while, your gag reflex relaxed and you dared to press your lips around his girth, so it would be more pleasurable for him. His slick cock was drumming in your mouth, filling it up entirely, choking you.

Miller pulled your head back sternly ― you were panting like a puppy by the time he was done with your throat. Your eyelashes were damp with unspent tears. You were sure that tomorrow it was going to hurt like if you had caught the worst cold of your life. Your mouth was filled with his sticky precum, a bridge of it connecting your mouth to his cock.

“You’ve not thrown up, well done”, he chuckled darkly. “Clean this mess for me.”

Again, as if you were not in control of yourself, you did as you were told. You licked his throbbing cock, swallowing all the fluids you had swept off his groin.

He lightly patted your cheek. “Good girl, now get up and take that finger out of your pussy.”

You had not realised you had been fingering yourself all along and your clit was begging for some relief. With a trembling sigh, you removed your hand from in between your legs and stood up.

Only then you caught on: he had not come yet. Fuck, you thought.

Did you want this? You were not sure. Letting him finger you and giving him head was one thing, but letting him fuck you was a completely different story. You were not a slut nor a cheater, but he made you feel like one. Your dribbling pussy made you feel like one.

Joel snatched his fingers around your elbow once again and made you walk to the front of his cruiser. He was in extreme need of relief ― his cock was pulsing so hard it was driving him mad with lust. He was gonna fuck that cunt of yours till you begged him to stop.

Unceremoniously, he splayed you down across the hood of his car ― your chest against the metal surface, your ass up in the air and your legs spread wide. If he could take a picture to jerk himself off to, he would.

He needed to see for himself, taste for himself. He was sure as hell that your pussy was drooling, beseeching to be filled to the brim. So he knelt behind you and parted your ass cheeks to have a better look. You whimpered, tiptoeing to give him better access to your soaked flaps.

“You’re such a slut. I could scrunch your panties to fill up an entire glass with your cum. Your thighs are all wet and tacky too”, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing it out, driving his hands up from the back of your knees, up your inner thighs, until they reached your crotch, framing your pussy.

He leaned forward and sipped from the fountain of your underwear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your ass, smelling your sweet sex. You wept, moving your hips against his mouth. Ah, yes, he knew you wanted him to fuck you hard. Very hard.

Joel rode up your tight skirt, exposing your ass to the elements. And then he pulled down your panties and put them in the pocket of his vest, as if they were a trophy. Because they were.

He now could have a better look at your creamy cunt, all smeared with your wanton fluids. Spreading your pussy open with his hands, he lapped you entirely a few times, even your butthole. Joel heard your moans loud and clear, knowing that you had never had your pussy eaten this good before. So he kept on going ― lapping, licking, sucking, biting until you squirted in his mouth, leaking like a broken tap and whining like a bitch in heat.

Joel drank it all and when you were finished, he stood up. He spanked your ass and with a swift movement, impaled you until his balls were flat against your thighs.

You screamed, literally screamed at the top of your lungs, when he stabbed you with his cock. You tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing you could grab. This was exactly what your cunt needed, being stuffed like a goddamn turkey in thanksgiving. Officer Miller drove his cock in and out of you lazily at first, and then he started fucking you stupid with such vigour that your body was being rocked back and forth, the handcuffs sliding against the hood, scratching the metal underneath.

You just moaned uncontrollably throughout the whole thing, unable to quieten yourself. Your cunt clutched around his throbbing dick, squeezing it hard, so hard you felt your muscles strain. Your clit spasmed severely, another fucking climax creeping up on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK”, you implored to the sky, to him, to whoever was listening.

The cop then fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled backwards, forcing you up off the hood, your back arching against his chest while he drilled you mercilessly. You were sure the squelching sounds your pussy was making could be heard from a mile away.

Then you finally came again, shrieking ― your treacherous pussy clamping down on his dick, leaking absolutely everywhere, trying to desperately milk him dry. Your eyes welled up, your black eyeliner running down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna take it inside and you’re not gonna complain”, he moaned in your ear and even in your blissful daze, you panicked.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” you mentioned, but you knew it wasn’t going to stop him.

“Ah, do you? Doesn’t seem like it right now”, and then he huffed heavily, letting go, driving his cock as far inside of you as he physically could.

His warm cum filled you to the brim, painting your walls of sticky white. Irremediably, you sighed, heaving, and closed your eyes, letting yourself rejoice in how full you were of his spent, of his cock.

And as soon as it started, it ended. His dick slid out of your crying, sensitive pussy, leaving your damp skin exposed to the cold air.

You took a minute to compose yourself and pushing down your skirt. When you looked at him, he had already tucked away his cock back in his work trousers, his cop uniform slightly in disarray. Now there were more wet, sticky patches adorning his groin area, a mixture of your shared pleasure.

“Can I have my panties back, please?”, you requested, extending your hand to him, with a sunny, albeit quivering, smile.

“No, I’m keeping them.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Can I at least have a tissue to clean myself up?”, your voice grew smaller as you lost confidence.

“No. I want you to go home with your pussy bursting with my cum, so that boyfriend of yours knows you’ve been fucked stupid by someone else”, he explained, full of himself.

At least you were going home. Or so you thought until you saw him walk to the back door of his Crown Vic, holding it open for you to jump in.

“This means nothing, you’re still spending the night in the cell”, he said, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed, angry. “Are you fucking serious?”, you asked, although what you really wanted to do was cry.

But you swallowed your tears, contrite ― your pride was bigger than your shame. And right now, you felt mortified.

What had you done?

Well, you had gambled, and you lost.

But, on the other hand, he had fucked you so good, so filthy, you were not sure any other cock would measure up to his.

[mageofmadness]

◞♡ nsfw thinking about the types of porn you'd find snooping on their computer before you start dating caleb, sylus, rafayel

caleb 100% has watched step bro porn. wasn't even that really into it. unfortunately, that is what you found on his phone when you went to use it the first time. poor timing on his part, you let it slide, not really having a moment to confront him. second time, he really needs to start closing out of his browsing tabs or clear his history before passing you his phone because it's not step bro porn but a whole lot of povs and your hair color specifically being searched. come shots, a smidge of hentai before he seems to go back to his trusty creampies. lots of those! a considerate amount of anal that sometimes crosses into hardcore. everything is wet and messy. also some errant solo videos....actually, that's every single solo video from this one creator watched in one night in his history. your eyes widen at the size of the toys she's using. you're kinda upset, not really, but he'd later admit that they just reminded him of you if he squinted and he liked to imagine you as his own personal porn star.

100% plugs his phone into the aux at one point, and some girl getting her guts rearranged plays in the car at max volume. a shameful moment for him.

sylus watches porn on his computer like an old man, don't shoot the messenger. daddy kink...that's his achilles heel and you note/stash that aside for later. what a wildcard. you're surprised by the wide range this man has, actually. his search history, as you sit there at the computer and scroll and scroll, is quite extensive. no real notable similarities beyond his penchant to favor backshots, which...also noted. you see, at one point, he got four pages into the amateur tag before giving up, which is oddly heartwarming. gunplay is a given and you roll your eyes at that. creampie as well, although sylus seems to have only clicked on the videos which explicitly refer to it as breeding. noted. a smidge of bdsm but honestly nothing crazy and fairly tame for the tag. after checking to ensure you really are alone, no one else is in the base, you realized the common similarity here is that all the video are loud. whimpering and moaning, sylus goes less for visual, more for audio, you must assume.

you 100% bring out the daddy kink once you start dating and it must be the confidence in which you say it because you're caught red-handed for snooping immediately.

rafayel is the one into roleplay, but not like your average everyday roleplay, no. his browser history is incriminating to the most severe degree, going as far as outside his chosen porn site of choice to search up things like bunny going into heat or tiny bunny gets put into a mating press and bred. he’s just straight up searching that on google, and after digging deeper, seems he then finds himself on a website with all sorts of outfits. he would never admit it but the idea hit him late one night and he just really needed to see someone that looked like you with a fluffy tail plug getting fucked. bunny breeding, cat ears, going into heat, the classic pink thigh-high socks with the little paws on the end. lots of solo content, lots of fancy dildos that have you wide-eyed again. the crowning jewel is the oviposition videos, though, which...make sense after you take a peek at them. alright, you'll give him that one. the whole egg thing...lemurian...makes sense, but sheer amount of these videos is a bit much. the sheer size of some of the eggs is a bit insane. combined with the given breeding kink and the…egg laying…you feel a tad bad for finding out his not so secret, secret.

fortunately, rafayel has no shame, though he manages a bit the first time you dress up as a bunny for him. that's no coincidence and while bunnies don't lay eggs, per see, when you hit him with that line he comes instantly and is embarrassed after the fact.

also 100% uses twitter for porn too you just didn’t find that

[violetskylights0]

Squeaky Clean

Vi x Reader

Summary: You and Vi break into a house with an obnoxiously big shower...it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Warnings: Smut (18+) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sneaking into houses in Piltover was old news for you and Vi. You’d done this a hundred times, rarely getting caught. But tonight felt different. Vi had set her sights on a stunning condo by the river, and though you were hesitant, one look at her stubborn grin was all it took.

“C’mon, gorgeous. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” she said, flashing you that cocky smirk that had you melting in an instant. She held your hand, pulling you forward, and you couldn’t help but follow.

She motioned toward a window a few feet up, and you gave her a knowing smile, stepping into her hands to boost yourself up. Just like old times. Vi lifted you with ease, her hands lingering a bit too long on your ass, and you shot her a grin.

"Seriously, Vi? Five seconds in, and you’re already getting handsy?” you teased as you shimmied in, reaching a hand back to her.

“It’s not my fault your ass looks so damn good in those pants,” she quipped, grabbing hold of your arm as you pulled her in. But when she flew through and practically landed on top of you, you both hit the ground with a soft thud.

Your eyes widened at the noise, but Vi just chuckled, brushing a reassuring hand against your cheek. “Relax. Owner’s in Ixtal for some business trip. I’ve been scoping the place for weeks. We’re clear.” She helped you up, pulling you close, her touch lingering as if to reassure herself you were still here.

“You know, it’s a little scary how good you are at this,” you murmured, your gaze drifting to her lips, feeling that familiar warmth in her presence.

She leaned in, her voice soft, almost a whisper. “I seem to remember you telling me I’m good at a couple of other things too,” she said, kissing along your neck in gentle, lingering brushes that made your heart race.

You sighed, a little dazed, but still smirked. “Vi,” you breathed, feigning a whine. “Focus, babe. You want dinner next week, or are you planning to flirt me to death here?”

She laughed, giving your ass a light tap as she passed. “Dinner? I’m thinking I’d rather have you for dessert. But someone insists I need more nutrients or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing, feeling a glimmer of what you thought you’d lost forever. After all, you’d been through, it was a relief to see pieces of the Vi you fell for hadn’t gone anywhere.

You both agreed to split up. Vi took the main floor while you explored upstairs, your rule simple: only take things no one would miss. But as you crept into the bathroom, your jaw dropped.

Moonlight spilled across sleek stone floors and lush plants, creating a humid, glimmering oasis. The shower itself was enormous, complete with a stone bench carved into the side. You couldn’t help but imagine hot water streaming endlessly—an impossible luxury at home.

“Vi!” you called, barely containing your excitement. “You have to see this.”

A moment later, she appeared, pink hair catching in the soft light, and let out a low whistle as she took it all in. “Holy shit. Didn’t even know they made bathrooms this big.”

“Can you believe this is normal for these people?” you muttered, a hint of irritation slipping into your tone.

She clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening. “Yeah, these pricks’ biggest issue is the time it takes to walk across their showers. They don’t know the first thing about struggling just to make it by.”

“Hey…hey. I’m sorry I didnt mean to sound annoyed” You stepped in front of her, cupping her cheek to pull her gaze back to you, grounding her in your touch. “Forget them and their fancy showers,” you whispered, brushing your thumb gently against her cheek.

“We may not have a shower—or even an apartment as big as this,” you murmured, your lips curling into a soft smile, “but I have you. And a year ago, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. So every day I get to see your face, hold your hand, and kiss your cheek,” you leaned in to place a feather-light kiss on her cheek, “is a day in paradise.”

Vi’s fierce expression softened, and she closed her eyes, turning her head to press a kiss to your palm. “And every time I hear your voice, I feel the same,” she replied, pulling you in, her arms wrapping around your waist as if she’d never let go.

You smiled at each other as she leaned in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that made the world fall away. It was a feeling you’d never tire of, the spark even more intense after all the years and everything you’d been through.

You barely noticed her guiding you back until you felt the cool tile at your back, and you let out a small laugh.

“Hey,” you breathed, catching her eye. “Feels like we’d be missing out if we didn’t take advantage of this shower.”

She raised an eyebrow as you stepped back, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to lift it slowly. Just the sight of your skin made her draw in a sharp breath, her eyes full of something tender and fierce all at once.

"I'm surprised,” Vi murmured, not even trying to hide the way her gaze lingered on your bare chest. “Usually you’re the cautious one when we’re breaking into places.”

You smirked, unbuttoning your pants as you stepped onto the cold marble of the shower. “Just because you’re the one with the prison record doesn’t mean I can’t have a little devious streak too.”

Vi blinked, snapping back to the moment as she started pulling off her clothes, her smirk widening. “If you didn’t look so damn good right now, I’d have a clever comeback ready.”

You turned on the water, feeling the icy beads at first but quickly relaxing as the warmth took over. Watching Vi strip off her sports bra, you gave her a slow, inviting smile, motioning her closer with a single finger.

"Why don’t you come take a closer look?”

She let out a low groan as her hands found your hips, pulling you flush against her. “You’re gonna be the death of me, huh, cupcake?” she whispered, lips brushing along your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that melted you in her arms.

You let out a soft moan feeling the warm outline of Vi’s lips on your throat as one hand slowly ran up your stomach before grasping your left breast and lightly tracing your nipple with your thumb. 

Your hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her pink strands as you tighten your grip, tugging just enough to make her gasp. Vi let out a low, throaty groan, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into you, the warmth between you growing with each little pull.

Someone is not playing fair,” Vi said biting down on your nipple playfully. “Two can play that game.” She said slowly lowering herself. 

The soft brush of her chest against your stomach as she lowered herself made your knees nearly buckle, but then you caught sight of her face and forgot to breathe.

Vi looked up at you, blinking slowly, her blue eyes vibrant in the moonlight. Droplets traced down her skin, following each scar, each line of her face, making her look like something out of a dream.

“Holy s-shit, Vi,” you breathed, voice trembling as she backed you against the shower wall. The cool stone made you gasp, but Vi only grinned, lifting your leg over her shoulder, her touch sending a rush of warmth through you.

Vi started slowly kissing up your leg making sure never to lose eye contact with you as she did one long lick up your core making you grip her hair again. 

“So sensitive today huh sweetheart,” Vi smirked against you cupping your heat. 

“Vi if you don't start eating me out soon I swear.” You said looking down at her. 

“Now c’mon is that any way to ask? You know good girls are supposed to beg.” Vi said her tone a bit more stern as she pressed her palm against your clit  making you jump. 

“Fuck really? I mean it was my idea to have shower sex in the first pla- ah!” you whimpered as she started grinding her palm against your clit and raising her eyebrow at you. 

“Okay okay, you win! Please fuck me. Make sure all of Piltover can hear how good you fuck me.” You borderline yelled as Vi moved her hand diving in head first. 

The sounds that echoed through the bathroom would make a brothel blush. The way Vi twirled her tongue over and over your clit just how she knew you liked it. Even pausing to slowly roll the numb between her lips and suck drove you crazy. You would have fallen over if her muscular strong arms were not pinning you to the wall. 

“You can do it, sweet girl. I know you're close. Don’t you want to cum on my face and mark what's yours?” Vi moaned slipping her tongue in your cunt. 

You felt the air leave your lungs as she used her thump to keep rubbing your swollen clit while she fucked you with her tongue. You didn't mean for a scream to come out but it all felt too good…and then it stopped. 

Vi leaned back standing up. 

“What the fuck! Why!” You begged as she led you to the deeper part of the shower with a seat and tuned on the second shower head. 

“Because of my love. I’m going to fuck you in this seat so good that you will never be able to take a shower without thinking of me.” Vi winked laying you down on the bench as you rolled your eyes at her cockiness. 

Vi’s gaze flicked around the shower until she spotted a bottle of soap on a ledge nearby. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned back to you, a smirk curving her lips while you leaned back on your elbows, watching her.

“Why don’t you lather up and give me a little show, hmm?” she murmured, setting the bottle beside you before taking a seat on the bench across, her gaze never leaving you.

You looked at Vi slowly spread her legs waiting for you as you tried not to gawk at the sight. The light drops running down the muscles of her arms all the way to her core had you soaked all over again. 

You nodded not being able to form words as you sat up a bit pouring the cold substance in your hands and slowly rubbing it on your body. 

You made sure to slowly rub all the way from your thighs to your breast as Vi’s arm moved to her own heat. 

You smiled rubbing the soap over and over your tits creating bubbles as Vi began circling her clit. 

“Who knew my good girl was such a fucking slut on display.” Vi moaned not daring to look away from you for a second as she sped up the circles.

You could tell she was getting close from the way her face flushed to her breathing pattern and right as you began to lower your hand to your own clit you stopped making Vi look confused. 

“Two can play that game.” You mimicked her voice and smirked. 

You expected Vi to flash you her playful smile and groan but her eyes got dark focusing in on you. 

“‘I am going to ruin you, sweet girl.” Vi growled positioning herself over you and spreading your legs. 

You barley had time to react to the sight of Vi lining up her heat with yours as you tried to grab onto anything around you at the sensation of her clit bumping yours.

Vi lifted you left leg holding it up straight as she started moving. Your mouth fell open from the sensation. As she began rocking her hips you could barely control the sounds coming out of your mouth. 

“Take it like a good slut for me yeah?” Vi grunted speeding up her pace. 

The sound of your cunts rubbing together bounced off the walls filling the bathroom with the sounds of you together. Your breath started quickening as you looked up at Vi who was mesmerized by the way your tits were bouncing.

“Fuck! Yes Please don't stop baby.” You shrieked as she began grinding down on you. 

‘Can I cum baby? please please oh GOD.” You moaned gripping her thigh. 

“Mhmm come with me pretty girl watch me make a mess of this sloppy fucking pussy.” Vi whined as you saw she was close to. She started thrusting her hips quickly again as your orgasm quickly barreled to you as a string of curses and Vi’s name slipped from your lips. 

As your legs began to shake you could see Vi about to reach her peak as well encouraging her.

“Come on baby come for me.” You cooed as the overstimulation kicked in making your eyes roll back which tipped Vi over the edge seeing you fucked out like that. 

Her hips thrust widely before she let out a high-pitched moan gasping as you felt her pussy throb against yours. 

For a moment, you both just sat there, catching your breath as the steam swirled around you. Vi gently lowered your leg and flopped beside you on the bench, her fingers trailing softly up and down your hip, massaging the muscles with a slow, soothing touch.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, her brows furrowed in genuine concern. “I mean, I only called you a slut because…well, you said you liked it. But I can stop—” she began to ramble, and you couldn’t help but cut her off with a soft kiss.

She was always so cute when she got like this—one moment completely losing herself with you, the next moment wrapped in that familiar softness, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

“I loved it,” you assured her, your fingers brushing tenderly across her cheek. “And I love you,” you added, smiling into her eyes.

Her expression softened, that tough edge in her gaze melting away as she leaned in for another kiss, slow and full of everything she’d never quite put into words. “I love you too,” she whispered, a rare hint of vulnerability showing through her usual boldness.

She chuckled, looking around the lavish shower. “Guess these Piltover jerks are good for something,” she teased, making you laugh as she squeezed your hand.

“Come on, Pinky. Shower time for real,” you said, standing.

“Oh, so I get the soap treatment this time?” Vi grinned, raising an eyebrow as you pointed playfully at her, then sauntered toward the other side of the shower.

Vi shook her head, biting her lip as she watched your hips sway. “Oh, keep that up, and we’ll be here all night,” she called, her mischievous grin promising that “getting clean” was the last thing on her mind.

Author note: Oh, how I have MISSED my Vi. The brainrot has taken over again and it feels so good. Feel free to message ideas or scenarios if you have them!

[redhead1180]

Sunshine

Pairing - dark!Rafe x pogue fem!reader

Summary - Reader has a crush on JJ, but JJ is dating Kie. Rafe decides he wants reader to get over JJ, no matter her say in the matter.

Words - 3k

Warnings MDNI - NON CON, DUB CON, drugging with E, slapping, physical fight (m vs f), dry humping, alcohol use, drug use, rough sex (p in v), degradation, blackmail, very dark Rafe.

A/N: This is my darkest piece I have ever wrote and of course it's for Rafe. He is mean SOB in this, so if that triggers you, please don't read. Thank you to @haven247 for the beta read. I am nervous about writing this dark, but hope you like it. PLEASE HEAD THE WARNINGS!

Being at a kook party was not your idea of fun, but they had free booze and it was better than a keggar. After the last week you’ve had, you have every intention of getting plastered and trying to forget your crush and best friend was dating someone else.

JJ your best friend since you were 4 and crush since you were 14, was officially dating Kie. And it hurt, a lot. You knew it was coming, saw the writing on the wall, but held out hope it wouldn’t. The only person who knew about the crush, that you knew of, was John B. He was your brother from another mother, and knew you inside and out. You three had been friends so long, you don’t remember a time when they weren’t there. John B has given you hug and told you he was sorry the day you saw them kissing through the Chateau window. He informed you they were dating and you had gone home and cried yourself to sleep. Avoiding them this past week, but couldn’t get around it for this party.

You had watched them dance, laugh, and make out, and were completely ready to vomit. Or wait, was they alcohol? I was in my 3rd concoction of the night and was not feeling much of anything. Well physically anyway.

Anyway, you were in the kitchen getting another drink, when you heard the last voice, you wanted to here.

“Well, well if it isn’t Miss Sunshine” Rafe Cameron sneered as he walked into the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Cameron” I told him, trying not to say more and start something.

“Anyone ever told you have a venomous mouth, Sunshine” he laughed.

“Only to you, Cameron. Everyone else thinks I am adorable and sweet” my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I bet you taste sweet” he chuckled. I turned around and caught him looking me up and down. He showed no shame for being caught. “What’s got you drowning in booze tonight? Wouldn’t have anything to do with Maybank and Carrera doing the horizontal mambo, would it?”

“You’re such an asshole, Cameron” You go to walk past him and he grabs your upper arm and pulls close to him.

“Most girls that talk to me the way you do get punished” he leered, inches from my face.

So, side note, when I drink, I think I am ten feet tall and bulletproof. And tonight was no exception.

“Let go of me you fucking psycho!” I hissed at him, pulling my arm. Unfortunately, he was so much stronger than me, my arm barely moved in his grasp. “I swear to God Rafe, I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

“Don’t call me psycho and I think I need to teach you some manners.” he growled right before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in to kiss him.

I instantly started pushing on him and struggling to get free. I bit his lip and he howled in pain and jerked back. I slapped him across the face, not caring this was Rafe Cameron, Kook Prince himself, and no one ever told him no.

He snapped his head back and I looked in his eyes. They were completely black, no amount of blue left, and had a predatory look that actually caused a little fear to creep up my spine. Something else, God help me, arousal shot through to my core and made me soak my panties.

I started to back away and with each step I took back, he took forward.

“Rafe just fucking walk away, leave me alone” I try to sound defiant and flippant, but not sure I pulled it off. His grin was pure evil, reminding me of every Disney villain I ever watched.

*Oh Sunshine, you really shouldn’t have done that” he smirked. I turn to run and get one of the pogues, but he grabs me by my waist and turns me around to throw me over his shoulder.

“You psychotic motherfucker, put me down!” I yell as I punch his back as hard as I can. He just grunts and slaps my ass hard, bringing tears to my eyes and more arousal to leak out of me. My mind was telling me to fight because you hate him, but my body was yelling at me to let him have his way.

He takes you to some room, locks the door, and proceeds to throw you on the bed. He immediately grabs both your wrists and roughly jerks them above your head, causing you to arch your back from the roughness and your tits rub against his chest. The lace bra you wear offered little protection from the friction and instantly your nipples hardened. Rafe chuckles as his free hand rubs over my breasts and pinches my nipples.

“You may not want this, but your body does” he chuckles as his hand slides down over my stomach and to the waistband of my shorts. I continue to struggle, he slaps my bare thigh, causing me to gasp. I know if I looked down right now, there would be a red hand print.

“You’re a feisty thing, maybe we should get you a little more pliant.” He threatens.

I see him reach in the pocket of his shorts, but don’t see anything in his hand when he pulls it out.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” I demand trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Just a little something to make you enjoy it more.” He smirks as he places a pill on his tongue and grabs my jaw to look at him.

“Open up, Sunshine” he murmurs as leans in to kiss me.

I try to shut my mouth, but the hold he has on my jaw won’t let me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and I feel the pill begin to dissolve as he devours my mouth. God he is a good kisser, I can’t stop myself as I whine in the kiss, causing him to moan. He held my jaw until the pill was fully dissolved, then he lets go, but we continued to kiss. Fuck, what was I doing, this was Rafe, I should be biting his fucking tongue off, yet I didn’t want the kiss to stop. He finally pulls away when air became a necessity.

“What the fuck did you give me, Rafe?” I pant, still trying to catch my breath from the kiss.

“Aww Sunshine, it’s just a little E to make you forget your troubles and help me fuck you without the feistiness.” He smiles down at me. I start to struggle again and hurt him in some fashion. His hold on my wrists and him between my legs really left me defenseless, and he knew it.

“Now let’s get rid of these clothes.” He grabs the neckline of my shirt and rips it down the middle. I screech from shock, and he continues ripping till it is off me.

“Oh Sunshine, you have some beautiful tits.” He groans as he leans down and latches his lips on one of my nipples. I gasp out from pleasure as he sucks, nibbles and licks my nipples through my bra. Thousands of jolts of delight ripple through my body to my core. I began to feel a zing of energy and mixing that with pleasure, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips up into Rafe.

“That’s it baby, let the drug begin to work. Let me make you feel good and forget Maybank for tonight.” He murmurs as he continues his assault on my tits, his mouth on one and his hand, pulling and pinching the other.

“More” I whimper to him, trying to get more friction. He reached behind me undoing my bra and let go of my wrists, I moved my arms so he can get off. My hands fly into his hair to push more into my chest. He grinds down on me and I groan, I feel the heat build in my stomach.

I have a slight moment of clarity, where I thought what the fuck am I doing, when Rafe rolls his hips and the tip of cock hits the seam in my shorts just right to rub my clit and I see stars. I moan out as I squeeze my eyes shut and let my orgasm wash over me.

“Fuck Sunshine, when was the last time you came?” he chuckles, reaching down to unbutton my shorts and take them off. He stands up, using the opportunity of me in a blissful state, to rid himself of his clothes. I look over to him and see his cock saluting me. My eyes wide at how big he was.

“Shit Rafe, I don’t know what you plan to do with that monstrosity, but it ain’t fitting in me.” I say in wonder.

“I’ll make it fit,” he said as he spread my legs and slapped my pussy. I yelped, still sensitive from my release, but it caused a wildfire to spread through my veins. He slapped it a few more times, rendering me a whiny mess. I tried to hide my face, ashamed at how he was making me feel. I knew the E was mainly to blame, but a part of me knew it wasn’t all the drugs.

“Oh, don’t be shy now” Rafe taunted as he pulled my hands from face and roughly kissing me.

Distracted by his kiss, I didn’t notice he lined his cock up to enter me. He shoved it in my soaked pussy and I screamed in his mouth. The pain and burn from his stretching without prep was almost unbearable. Instantly, tears formed in my eyes and I pulled my mouth free.

“FUCK!” I cried out “Rafe, get out, pull out, it hurts so bad!” I cry but he continues to snap his hips into me, even though I was pushing on his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and take it.” He growled as he grabbed my arm and jerked it above my head, slamming into me faster. I was whimpering, crying mess underneath him. He continued to pound into me, hitting my cervix, lips taking what they wanted from my lips down to my breasts.

“I’ll have you forgetting Maybank after tonight and you’ll only want my cock in this pussy. You’re mine now, Sunshine” he rasped in my ear.

“I hate you” I hissed at him.

Eventually the pain began to be replaced by pleasure, my cries turning into moans as I felt my core heat up and the band began to tighten.

“You keep saying that, but your body doesn’t,” he taunted “you might be venomous, nonchalant, and a raging bitch to the rest of the world, but all you needed was a Daddy to tame that mouth and this pussy. Didn’t you?”

I ignored him, not wanting to agree with him. Suddenly I heard and then felt the smack across my face. I let out a shocked yelp and grabbed face with my free hand. My body betrayed and a rush of arousal coated his cock.

“Oh, you like being slapped huh? When I ask you a question, you answer it, slut” he hissed at me.

“Yes Daddy” I moaned out, before slapping my hand over my mouth, not believing what I just said.

“That’s my good little slut” he teased.

He let go of my hand and reached down with both hands to push my thighs into my chest. I cried out as the new position hit my G-spot and I saw stars. Within seconds, the band snapped in my stomach and I was screaming daddy repeatedly.

“That’s it, you little cunt, cum all over my cock.” He grunted before pulling out and flipping me over on my stomach. He straddled my thighs, pulled my butt up, and shoved himself back into me. I moaned as the new position let him hit deeper. I grabbed the headboard needing to ground myself, as the drugs and orgasm made me feel like I was floating away.

He wrapped his arm around my neck, putting me in a chokehold, snapping his hips into me at such an ungodly pace. I could already feel another release coming. The drugs had all my senses turned up to an eleven, the burning in my stomach, the tingling in my core, the pleasurable pain every time he hit my cervix. I felt that if I had another orgasm, I would fly off into outer space.

“S’too much, daddy” I whine, trying to push on his stomach. “I can’t do it”

He slapped my hand away and smacked my thigh hard, making me cry out.

“You will take everything I give you. You’re my little cum slut now and you will obey me” he grunted. He grabs my arm and jerks them around behind my back, grabbing both wrists with one hand. With his other hand, he grabs hair and uses both as leverage to fuck me harder.

All you could hear in the room were my ‘uh-uhs’ and our skin slapping together. I was close as my walls begin to flutter around his cock, but he was too as I felt his hips stutter.

“You better cum before me or you’re outta luck,” he panted. “We’re not here for your pleasure, only mine.” He taunts as he speeds up getting closer to his release.

I manage to wrestle one of my hands free and reach down to rub my clit. The added stimulation almost instantly makes me fall over the edge, I scream out and clamp down on Rafe’s dick. My body convulses as I have the strongest release of my life, but the E in my system causes me to keep cumming tears falling down my cheeks as I can’t stop.

“Jesus Fuck” Rafe gasps, “You’re clenching so tight I can barely move.”

He forces his cock in and out of me as he pants and grunts. Slamming into me one more time, I feel his seed shoot out against my walls.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hisses. He slowly thrust back into me a few times before pulling out and flip me over. I was essentially a rag doll by this point.

“Oops can’t have any Daddy’s juices spilling out can we?” he smirks, shoving two fingers in me pushing his cum back in me. I whimpered and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop, too sensitive” I whimper out.

“Stop being a whiny slut” he sneers before slapping my pussy a few times. I cry out, tears running down my cheeks. He reaches for his phone and takes a picture of me.

“What the fuck” I snap.

“I need something to jerk off to when you’re not around”

He shows me the picture. I look royally fucked out, mascara and tears running down my cheeks, lipstick smeared all over my face, bruises and hickeys around my neck and chest. He grabs my phone and tosses it to me.

“Unlock it” he demands.

I do without any argument. He puts his number on and sends himself a text, so that he has my number.

“When I call, I expect you to answer and come to me” he demands coldly. “If you don’t, then the whole island will know your just my cum slut and enjoy it. I have evidence.” he grins.

I nod, knowing he had me, because the thought of the pogues, especially JJ finding out made me sick to my stomach. He tossed my shorts and some tshirt he found to me.

“Now you’re gonna get dressed, go back to the party and act like nothing happened. Your hickeys were from some random touran.” He instructed. “The whole time you pine over JJ, my cum will be seeping out of your cunt. Oh, and clean your face up.”

I move slowly getting off the bed. I get dressed and head to the en suite bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and start to cry. I splash water on my face, cleaning myself up, the whole-time sobbing.

Rafe comes in the bathroom and stares at me for a minute. I turn to face him and he smacks me on the cheek, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to sting and leave his handprint.

“Stop crying like a cunt,” he mocked me, “You enjoyed it, I think I counted three orgasms from you?”

“It was the drugs” I argue.

“Sure, sure. The explain why you were soaked before I gave you the E?” he asked.

I’m looked away cause I had no answer, at least not one I was willing to admit.

“S’what I thought,” he smirked “Now get downstairs, before I change my mind and take you home, tie you up, and use you all night.”

I ran out of the bedroom and went downstairs, looking for my friends.

Walking around, I finally found John B and Sarah making out in a corner. Pope was in another room trying to woo a girl with coroner talk, the poor girl looked scared for her life. The last room I walked into, JJ and Kie were on a couch, Kie in JJ’s lap making out. My friends, wait no family, didn’t seem to have missed me.

I walked into the kitchen and made me a drink and walked outside to one of the patio chairs. My phone dinged with a message.

Remember our deal and no one finds out. Although with as worried as they were for you, not sure they would seem to care.

I downed my drink and got up to get another one, tears running down my cheeks.

How the fuck did I get in this situation and what was I gonna do. All knew was I hated Rafe Cameron and I would find a way out.

Tagging some moots:

@princessmaybank @echo-at-the-pond @babygorewhore @drudyslut @rafescokewhore @rafesc0kewh0re @starfxkr @blueicequeen19 @drewstarkeyslut @pankowperfection @maybankskiss @ch4rrykisses

[vmlnrzmp4]

itoshi sae — nsfw

a/n: this was a request. it was a bit embarrassing to post but i left shame back in 2024 so without further ado, enjoy<3

the bathroom door opened rather too loudly. too hurriedly. itoshi sae entered, seeing you sitting in the empty bathtub—your eyes hazy, your lips parted, your hair messy and your hand down to your panties—you were wasted.

you were in one of the rooms at the party, getting shots after shots till you got drunk and needy.

sae, tho your ex, rushed to find you the moment he got to know about your state—knocking on every door in the house till he found you there. "i'm taking you home," sae said in a firm voice as he walked in.

you pouted, "go away," you say childishly but that doesn't stop him as he warns you that he'll have to manhandle you out if you don't listen to him. to which you counter by saying that you will scream if he doesn't listen to you.

he runs his hand over his face, coming over to you and crouching down—almost giving up convincing you. he himself had a few shots but his was right in his mind(atleast that's what he thinks), sitting by the little stool, "what are you doing y/n?" he asks, a hint of pink coating his cheeks as he sees where your hand is.

"nothing," hiccup "nothing you should be worried about," hiccup "now go away or enjoy the show. i don't care," you say, rubbing yourself even faster and faster and faster.

"stop it y/n," he says firmly, reaching for your hand but oh, you already came all over your fingers.

giggling, you give him a mischievous look, "wanna taste?"

"you're out of your damn mind."

"maybe i am," hiccup "that doesn't answer my question. do you wanna taste or no?" you laugh giddily.

there was a silence. and maybe the shots of alcohol made sae feel something he couldn't put a finger on, "...give me that damn hand."

you snickered as he takes your middle and ring finger into his mouth, licking them clean. "can you send in some guy," hiccup "i wanna get eaten out."

sae looks at you in disbelief, "you're gonna regret this next morning y/n."

you laugh saying you regret nothing—saying that what happens will happen. you don't really care. you've left the shame back in to the time where you and sae used to date.

"i have one request i want you to fulfil, itoshi sae," hiccup "bring someone in."

the thought of some other guy getting his hands on you alone pissed sae off. pissed isn't even the right word. whatever emotion it was—jealousy perhaps—made sae pick you up from the bathtub bridal way, making you yelp.

sae settles you down at the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you, rolling your dress upwards till he has a perfect sight infront of him—the panties you wore on had a dark wet patch at the centre thanks to your own fingers.

before he could dive his head in between your thighs, you held onto his hair, tugging back, "not you."

"...not me?"

"not you." you hiccup again. then again as you say, "you're not my boyfriend anymore."

sae reaches for your hand that rested on his head, kissing the knuckles, "y/n...let me."

you were starting to sober up but the fire inside you didn't die down, "fine." with your permission, sae exhaled in relief as he places multiple kisses and occasional bites on the inside of your thighs, trying to mark you as his possession.

he slides your panties to the side, letting out a throaty hum at the sight of your pretty wet pussy, "fuck," he breathes out. without waiting much, he attaches his lips to where you needed him the most.

with his tongue, he drew little tight circles, zig-zags, figure eights, and every pattern he knew that would get you off—as he was basically making out with your pussy.

you keep squirming and whimpering—moaning his name and even the nickname you would call him when the two of you used to date. he groans at that, the vibrations on your pussy puts you over the edge and without warning, you come undone on his tongue, without him knowing.

and when you do so, you fall back on the bed, giggling to yourself, so tired, closing your eyes, on your way there to the dreamland.

you don't care—or even have the strength to complain about the overstimulation by the ministrations sae is providing you with.

when he's finally satisfied, he looks up at you but you were already fast asleep. sae sits besides you on the bed, running a hand through his hair, panting as he looks at your vulnerable figure.

you don't belong in her life anymore.

a voice echoed in his head.

she deserves better.

another one said.

sae gets up from the bed, fixing himself. one step, two step, three step...more steps and he'll be out of your life completely.

so he halts himself, turning around to you. you were carelessly sleeping. a drool rolling from your mouth to your cheek as you snored lightly—this elegant sight of you that sae loved dearly.

how can you walk back into her life like nothing?

"i can," he counters, making his way to you. adjusting your dress so you're not uncomfy. he pulls the duvet—covering you with it.

she deserves better.

"she deserves me."

[demonicbaby666]

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away. 

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening. 

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought. 

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog. 

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?" 

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question. 

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company." 

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's. 

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile. 

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment. 

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks. 

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route. 

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing. 

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh. 

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers. 

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch. 

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down. 

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble. 

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements. 

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?" 

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust. 

"That's a good girl." 

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance. 

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field. 

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb. 

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk. 

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her. 

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs. 

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth. 

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her. 

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did. 

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told. 

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt. 

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further. 

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked. 

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless. 

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests. 

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless. 

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about. 

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks. 

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers. 

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head. 

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn. 

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away. 

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown. 

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick. 

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her. 

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat. 

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you. 

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious. 

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears. 

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.  

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far. 

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?" 

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance. 

"Get up." 

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified. 

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet. 

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye. 

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest. 

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back. 

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was. 

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours. 

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?" 

"Emily, please," you begged. 

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing." 

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that. 

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk. 

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?" 

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you. 

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement. 

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly. 

"Did I say you could do that?" 

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle. 

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on." 

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities. 

"Beg," she instructed. 

And you heeded. 

"Please. I need you." 

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it. 

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it." 

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching. 

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm. 

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office. 

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second. 

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust. 

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand. 

"You'd better be quiet then." 

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be. 

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming. 

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily. 

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming." 

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk." 

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm. 

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore. 

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile. 

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door. 

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed." 

"But-" 

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs. 

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans. 

Tags: @ssa-sapphic @aws-l @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @jenna-ortega-is-pretty17177 @supercorpstan97 @kenyakimble34 @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @summoned-lust-demon @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @asolitaryrose3 @imlike-so-gaydude @maybe-a-humanbean @taylorswiftsboyfriend @bossofcriminalminds @asphodelvamp @jareguiromanoff @lilfartbox1 @lovelyy-moonlight @patronagrona @lostenby @storiesofsvu @mrs-prentiss @romanoffsho @paulilvsremus @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @lesbodietcoke @homo-oddity @milfsincrime @noahrex @pnsteblnme @asolitaryrose3 | click here to be added to my taglist

[signedkoko]

HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???

Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?

THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

-🐚

Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.

When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed

You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face

It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow

You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way

He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord

Truly a shame

You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged

Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort

But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you

You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice

The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you

Something about it was so familiar

J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R

When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing

Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device

Unless you did it just for him?

R-K-J-E-R-K-J

" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "

Y-O-U

Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk

And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method

One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display

Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw

" COMATOSE. "

You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious

Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!

But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel

He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that

Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them

Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before

But he'd never heard of something like yours

Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle

You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved

Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures

After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!

While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you

From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction

Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled

He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear

But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with

Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to

Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of

Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites

The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you

But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats

" Silence. "

From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking

The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left

Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!

Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?

YOUR POWERS DID THAT???

He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too

Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!

[drmaddict]

Keep Out

Summary: modern!Aemond takes his girlfriend home with him for the semester break over summer. He had already forgotten that he barely got any peace and quiet in his old room.

Wordcount: 1.717

Warnings: tiny smuttish part, but also not really, mentions of an unwanted lap dance, lots and lots of fluff

Present

They heard something rumbling loudly against the door. "Urgh. Fuck. Aemond?" shouted Aegon through the door.

(Y/n) laughed silently and shook an equally smirking Aemond, who was lying on her stomach.

2 months before

Aemond was unusually nervous for his ratio. He had never brought anyone home before. It was unusual. He felt strangely naked, as she paced around his room, looking at the books and posters from his school days.

When a grin appeared on her face, he knew immediately what was coming.

"Aha!" She pulled the CD case from the shelf and held it up triumphantly. "I knew it!",she grinned at him.

He just rolled his eyes and put the My Chemical Romance CD back in its place. "Behave.", was all he said.

Her smile softened. Her arms gently wrapped around his neck and pulled him in for a soft kiss.

"Close the door! Would you?", they heard someone laugh. None other than Aegon stood in the doorway and grinned at them both. "We don't want mummy to think you're promiscuous."

"Wow. That was a difficult word for you.", Aemond replied in a calm voice, but (Y/n) could see the tension in his jaw.

"At least I'm not a twenty-year-old virgin.", Aegon rolled his eyes and walked away again.

(Y/n) scratched his neck reassuringly. "So this is Aegon?"

He grumbled in agreement, annoyed.

"You exaggerated a bit with his hair. I was almost expecting a half bald head.", she turned his mind to another topic, knowing full well that he was largely uncomfortable with the subject of sex.

"You didn't see him after rehab. He was close."

She laughed lightly.

He lay relaxed on the bed. (Y/n) half beneath him. His head lay on her chest and he savoured the delicate fingers, as they ran over his scalp and through his long strands.

Sleeptoken was playing softly in the background, but he focussed more on her heartbeat, which he could now hear so clearly.

His eyes had fallen shut at the caresses, his breathing was calm and deep.

Everything was beautiful. Everything was good. Everything-

"Aemond we - Oh sorry."

Both their gazes shot in the direction of the roughly flung open door. His mum stood in the doorway, a little embarrassed. "We'll order something from the Italian. Please come downstairs... And put a shirt on Aemond!"

He dropped his face into the crook of her neck and groaned in annoyance. "I should have taken a hotel.", he grumbled.

She kissed his temple. "Just locking up is cheaper, I think."

"We don't have to.", she explained quietly.

Aemond shook his head. "I want to try it.", he admitted, still looking nervous. "But only on you for now.", he confessed quickly.

She stroked his hair. "Okay."

"You sure?"

She nodded with a smile.

Aemond cleared his throat. He had come a long way since he was a boy and a teenager, but the memory of that night was still so present.

Aegon had dragged him along to his birthday. He doesn't know what he'd expected, but it hadn't been a stripper.

He and his friends had cheered her on as she danced on Aemonds lap. He had never felt so overwhelmed und uncomfortable. The fact that he had come in his pants less than two minutes later had, of course, taken the mockery to the extreme.

They had bawled and Aemond had simply run away until he could lock himself in the bathroom, where he washed himself three times in a row in an attempt to wash off the shame.

"Hey." He felt her hand on his cheek. He pulled himself from his memory. "It's just me here. No one else." She smiled so warmly at him again. And she was right. The rest of his family was gone tonight, except for Haelena. But she rarely left her bugs voluntarily anyway.

He nodded, but still buried his face briefly on her shoulder. "Can I?," he asked, stroking her waistband with his fingers.

She nodded with a smile.

He carefully slipped his hand under the elasticated fabric and immediately came across the top of her panties. He looked at her questioningly again. She simply nodded. His fingers travelled deeper. He felt light stubble and took in the slightly scratchy feeling beneath his fingertips. He drew a few exploratory circles.

"Does that bother you?", she asked a little hesitantly, but he immediately shook his head.

"Not at all."

He let his fingers wander deeper until he felt what he was looking for. He groped around a little awkwardly and blindly. Searching for what he had already read about. She tenderly pushed her hand towards his. Grasped his fingers and brought them into position. She calmly showed him how to move them. He followed her with concentration.

She sighed slightly and withdrew her hand again. He tried himself out. Experimented. Memorised what caused which reaction.

And he realised, that this was okay. It was even kind of nice. It was-

The door to his room opened again. Helaena poked her head into the room. She didn't pay any attention to the situation of the two of them, frantically trying to present themselves in a more socially acceptable manner.

"Helaena!", shouted Aemond reprovingly.

She looked absolutely neutral in return. "Have you seen my Tarantula? She's run off."

"Your what?", asked (Y/n) immediately in alarm.

"My Tarantula. She-"

"Rethorical question.", explained Aemond immediately. "And no."

"Okay."

The door closed again.

"Please tell me that Tarantula is the name of your cat."

"Don't worry about it. The creature is ancient. It probably just turned to dust."

"Found her!", Heelena shouted from the corridor.

"Great.", Aemond called back, only slightly annoyed.

(Y/n) was still sitting tensely on his bed. "What do you say we-"

"Chinese or Thai?" he asked.

"Chinese."

"I'll just wash my hands and get the car.", he explained and stood up humbly. Would he ever have a quiet evening in this house?

"I love you.", she called after him tensely.

"Love you too.", he called back with a sigh. 

They made out violently. She was sitting on his old desk and had her legs wrapped around his hips like a snake.

His centre kept twitching slightly forward. His family was gone, even his sister, and the damn door was locked.

Aemond pressed himself against her even more than he already did. His hands wandered under her top. His lips broke away from hers and travelled to her neck. He was ready. He was sure. He felt comfortable with her. He wanted this.

"To bed?", he asked, slightly out of breath.

She nodded eagerly. "Please.", she sighed. He lifted her from the table and carried her towards the bed. She took off her own top and threw it somewhere. He did the same.

She was already sitting down on the mattress and pushed herself into the middle of it, when Aemond tried to get out of his trousers.

He lay down on top of her. Their lips met. He sighed, when he felt her hands on his bare back.

He was just sliding his hands into the waistband of her trousers when he heard the click of the lock. He frantically threw half of the blanket over (Y/n) to cover her body as his grandfather stood in the doorway.

He looked at them both in astonishment.

"Excuse me.", he nodded briefly to (Y/n). "Otto Hightower. The grandfather." He introduced himself impassively.

"Hello." (Y/n) waved back, overwhelmed.

"You still have my encyclopaedia.", he explained, turning to Aemond.

He looked at him perplexed. "Couldn't you have just called me?"

Otto just raised an eyebrow. "The book, Aemond.", he demanded.

Aemond stood up angrily, took the book from the shelf and pressed it into his grandfather's hand.

"Could we have some privacy now, please?"

Otto just waved him off. "But don't get her pregnant. We don't need any more complaints like your brother's."

He didn't even look at them again. He simply left the house.

Aemond breathed in and out in a controlled manner.

He turned round with a jerk and pulled his trousers back on.

"Aemond, it's all-"

"Get dressed. We're driving."

"Driving? Where?"

"To a hotel.", he explained curtly and held out her top.

(Y/n) looked at him in surprise. "So we're not stopping?", she asked, half teasingly, half cheerfully.

Aemond looked at her insistently. "Not if you don't want to."

She smiled. "Let's go then."

The night was mild. Mild enough that they didn't try to put as much distance between them as possible. Just touching fingers or knuckles.

No. Aemond had snuggled up to her chest and (Y/n) held him in a relaxed grip.

They both lingered in the land of dreams, knowing that the door was locked and the key was still in it.

They had had their peace and quiet all evening. No one had gotten on their nerves. Aemond had snuggled up to her as he usually only did in his own flat. A place where no one could go without his permission. The key in the lock wasn't the highend security system in his flat, but it reassured him enough.

Even in his dreams, he still had the feeling that he had finally triumphed when he was suddenly and rudely torn from this world.

A loud, breaking sound rang out. The sound crashed into the room like a bang.

And with the noise, Aegon smashed in too.

"Oaaa! Fuck!", he exclaimed, annoyed, then he laughed clearly drunk.

Aemond and (Y/n) immediately sat upright in bed. (Y/n) looked perplexed at Aegon.

Aemond looked at the hole in the wall that had once been his door, now lying as splinters of wood on the floor.

"I didn't get the curve.", Aegon laughed, still on the floor. "Sorry little brother."

Present

"Stable.", (Y/n) stated, when she had her laughter under control again.

"Steel core with a security lock. Standard for banks.", explained Aemond relaxed.

He firmly grabbed her hand, which she had withdrawn during her fit of laughter, and put it back on his head.

"Don't stop.", he just sighed and closed his eye again. A slight smile played around his lips.

She kissed the top of his head with a smile and complied.

[riddikulusravenclawbelle]

taste

plot - she’s a Slytherin who plays with fire. He’s the Gryffindor who finally gets burned. When a Potions mishap leads to late-night detentions, sparks turn to smirks, insults turn to touches—and suddenly, hating each other isn’t the only thing they’re good at.

characters - harry potter x you, draco malfoy x you (mentioned)

warnings - possessiveness, heavy themes, smut, and angst

wc - 4.8k

creds - @cafekitsune for the divider! <3

final notes - this is my first smutty fic, and i didn't even mean to start it as one. enjoy reader ;)

edit: part 2 out now

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together. 'Attention to detail is the prerequisite of all planning!' He beamed—just as the door opened to reveal the Chosen One himself.

Draco hated his guts. You tried not to, but there was always trouble where Harry went…

“Ah! Harry, my boy, I was beginning to worry. Get what you want from the cupboard.” Slughorn instructed Harry and barely acknowledged Ron.

Harry’s eyes cut over to you. You looked away immediately. You were a Slytherin. Practically Draco’s best friend, and a bit more. You’d stolen one to many kisses from Draco and had many nights where you ‘accidentally’ slept over at Malfoy’s dorm. As for the chosen one? Potter was very easy on the eyes but, you weren’t going to risk being shunned from your house.

“Any ideas what these might be?” Slughorn asked, referring to the potions he concocted earlier today.

Hermione, ever the know-it-all, answered swiftly. The love potion. “It’s rumoured to smell differently according to each person, according to what attracts them.”

“Exactly. Now Amortentia doesn’t create actual love. That would be impossible. Who wants to try to give us an example of what they smell?”

Your eyes immediately went to the floor, praying to Merlin that Slughorn doesn’t pick you. But he did. Great.

You cleared your throat and stepped up to the cauldron. “I smell old parchment paper and ink.”

“Go on, Y/L/N.” Slughorn says.

“Um I also smell freshly cut grass, almost like how the quidditch field smells. The fresh rain smells after a storm and hints of a fireplace freshly stocked with wood.”

“Good.” Slughorn says.

Draco frowns, but Harry smirks.

“I think she smells you mate.” Ron says nudging Harry.

“No, I don't!” You quickly snapped, almost biting his head off.

All the students take their turn, including Hermione who smells fresh mint toothpaste and Luna who smells warm wool and candy. Then, It’s Harry’s turn.

“Don’t be shy my boy!” Slughorn insists. Of course. That could only end badly.

“I smell-”

He pauses.

Sniffs.

A faint pink flushes across his cheeks.

“Um cherries, warmth, and,”

He hesitates, but eager to get on Slughorn’s good side, he finishes by mumbling:

“That vanilla scented stuff she wears.” His eyes cut to you only for a second before looking down in shame.

Why did he have to smell you?

The slytherin boys teased Harry and made multiple ‘woo’ noises. Bloody hell.

“Looks like someone’s got a crush on Y/N.” Lorenzo couldn’t resist teasing.

Blaise silently shot you a knowing smirk.

“As if Y/N would ever go for Potter.” Draco sneers.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

You and Draco gather the last of your things from the Slytherin table.

“Merlin you take forever.” Draco complained, eager to catch up with Blaise and the rest of the Slytherins. That’s when you hear footsteps approaching. You looked up and saw the golden boy himself, Harry Potter.

“I’ll catch up.” You say, looking at Draco, smiling and resting a hand on his arm.

“Alright.” Draco said walking away but not before giving Potter a scathing look. “I don’t trust that git.” He muttered as he walked away.

Harry scratched his neck, you could tell he was nervous for whatever he was about to say. “You always wear that vanilla scent, don't you?” He lightly chuckled.

“Yeah.” You stopped packing your stuff and put a hand on the desk. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” He said, not meaning to offend you. ”Guess I just noticed today in Potions.” He smiled then walked away leaving you flustered. No teasing. Just that awkward boyish honesty that had no business being that charming.

It wasn’t the first time you noticed him, obviously. But it was the first time you blushed at his comment and the first time your stomach twisted.

You froze in place for a moment, temporarily stunned.

“You coming, princess?” Draco said, groaning.

“Yeah, my bad. I thought you already left!” You said, quickly grabbing the rest of your stuff and meeting Draco at the door.

“What’d Potter want?”

“Nothing.” You said, but in reality the scent of parchment paper and a warm fire were still lingering. And all you could think about for the rest of the week was bloody Harry James Potter.

So when Potions arrived again, you prayed to Merlin you would have a normal time as you walked with Draco, Theo, Mattheo, Enzo, Blaise, and Pansy.

“Do you think Slughorn ever forgets which potion he's drinking and ends up sipping Amortentia?” Theo asked, jokingly.

“That would explain why he keeps smiling at his own reflection.” Enzo adds, which gets an eye roll from Blaise.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

“What you see before you, ladies and gentlemen…is a curious little potion known as Felix Felicis. It is more commonly referred to as -” Slughorn stars before getting interrupted.

“Liquid Luck.” Y/N responds, sitting with all the Slytherins now at their table. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cut your eyes over to the Gryffindor table to see Harry a couple of times. Sometimes, you’d catch him staring at you.

“So, this is what I offer each of you today. One tiny vial of Liquid Luck to the student who in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable Draught of Living Death. Let the brewing commence.” Slughorn announces and immediately you—and all the other students in the class— start to brew.

“Hey, Y/N.” Mattheo says, already has a smirk on his face that reads nothing but trouble

“Yes?” You say, sighing as you were focused on making the potion, but now facing Mattheo.

“Hope you like blokes with glasses. 'Cause apparently one’s obsessed with you now.” Mattheo teased, loud enough for the whole class to hear.

Mattheo Riddle’s book went flying with a hex before he could finish his sentence.

“Miss Y/L/N!” Slughorn says surprised. “I expected better from you. You’ll be serving detention scrubbing the old Potions classroom after hours.” He said.

“Ugh.” You said, putting your head down on your desk. “Thanks, Mattheo.” you mumbled to where you could only hear.

The class ends with Slughorn announcing Harry had won the Felix Felicis and you all clapped for him.

“Oh Potter.” Slughorn said, grabbing the boy’s attention.

“Yes sir?”

“You’re top of the class and one of my best students—would you mind overseeing Miss Y/L/N’s detention? She’s a bright girl, just needs a steady influence.” Slughorn winked.

“Sure, sir.” Harry smiled, even though he sighed inside.

“Was Slughorn congratulating you even more mate?” Ron asked as he walked down the hall with Hermione and Harry by his side.

“No, actually. He asked if I could watch over Y/N’s detention. He’s lost it. Who in their free time would want to monitor detention?”

“Harry.” Hermione started, in her intellectual tone. “It’s clear Y/N and you had smelled each other's scents last week. He’s obviously setting you up.”

“Did you say yes?” Ron asked.

“Yeah. But I’m just doing this to appease him, Dumbledore wants me to get close to him.” Harry explained, although a small fraction of him was looking forward to spending time with you–without Malfoy.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

You were elbow-deep in soap suds and whatever magical gunk stained the walls of the old Potions classroom. You were too busy scrubbing to care how you looked at the moment. Then you heard the door creak. You turned to see it was the star student, Harry Potter. You turned back around.

“Slughorn sent you?” You inquired but you knew he did. Of course he did. You rolled your eyes as you continued scrubbing.

“Nice to see you too, Y/N.” Harry said, fighting a smile that threatened to creep onto his face.

Of course, he’d be smiling. He knew he was charming. You looked back to see that Harry was rolling up his sleeves, his hair a little messier than usual due to the day. He looked so effortlessly handsome.

“I thought this was my detention.” You said distracting yourself from the man that you were just admiring.

“Professor Slughorn sent me to supervise. Make sure you don’t hex anyone” He explained.

“Well you can tell Slughorn I won't hex anyone unless they deserve it–and Mattheo did.” You replied, which earned a laugh from Harry.

You felt a warm feeling inside. One that made you want to hear him laugh more. “You don't have to pity laugh.”

“What? No, no, that was funny. Mattheo can be a bloke sometimes.” He grinned, reflecting.

“Yeah,” you breathlessly laughed. You wringed out your towel as he squatted beside you, rolling up his sleeves even more, inspecting what you had been scrubbing for the past few minutes.

“I can handle it, golden boy.” You looked at him.

“I know you can.” He looked back at you. Something inside you lit up like a firework, those striking green eyes. You looked right back down.

He’s off limits. You knew this.

A few minutes passed before you needed more of the cleaning potion. You reached up toward one of the higher shelves where Slughorn kept old potions ingredients. You stretched on your tiptoes, fingers just grazing the edge of the jar as you felt the back of your shirt stretch up revealing your bare lower back.

“Need help?” Harry asked, you rolled your eyes in defiance. You knew you needed his help—and so did he.

Without another word he came over and grabbed it for you. His hand brushed the bare small of your back sending an electric spark up your spine. Nothing overt, you don’t think he meant to do it. But it made your breath hitch.

You cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

“Told you, I don’t bite Y/L/N, unless you want me to.” He smirked, his voice soft but his smirk spoke louder than the both of you combined.

“I figured I’d help anyways. I’m nice like that.” He said with a soft smile on his face. Why was he being so kind?

For a while there was only light conversation, jokes sprinkled in (mostly at Ron’s expense.), and the sounds of enchanted cleaning equipment to take up the sound in the room. It was quite nice.

And you smiled. And laughed. A lot.

He reached over your shoulder to grab a cleaning potion, and that’s when it hit you.

That smell.

Fire wood, the quidditch grass after a fresh cut, and a soft hint of an unknown warmth.

The exact combination from Amortentia.

You froze because you couldn’t deny it anymore. It was him.

“You alright, Y/L/N?” he asked, quietly. Like he actually cared.

You blinked. Then blurting out: “You changed your cologne.”

“Noticed, huh?” he said, smiling. “Hermione picked it—said it smells like me.”

“It does.” The words slipped out before you could catch them.

“Like the Amortentia you smelled in class the other day?” Harry teased, leaning closer to you. His voice changed to a lower, softer tone–he was certain at this point.

You didn’t respond. Your mouth had already betrayed you the last two times you spoke. Unfortunately, your silence spoke volumes.

“I knew it.” He smiled, smug. Blushing.

You looked at him then. Really looked. He was close enough to count the freckles on his nose. Close enough to see all the different shades of green in his eyes. Close enough to see that his lips were parted like he was holding his breath.

“Harry..” you whispered, almost so quiet to where you couldn’t hear it.

“You’ve got something-” he trails off as he wipes some soap off of your cheek. He keeps his hand there though. Your brain is telling you to look anywhere but in his eyes. Pull away. Slap his hand away. But you don’t.

And that’s when he kissed you. Softly. His lips felt like clouds you could lay on forever. It was warm and felt shy, like he was unsure if he should be kissing Draco’s best friend, a fellow Slytherin.

“Bloody hell.” you whispered on his lips.

You knew this was dangerous. You knew kissing Harry was the kind of thing that could unravel everything you’d worked to protect—your status in Slytherin, your friendship with Draco. But Merlin, you wanted him.

Eventually, your hands started to wander. And so did Harry’s.

“D’ya think Slughorn planned this?” Harry asked between kisses.

“If he did, I don’t think he planned it to go this far.” You replied breathlessly.

His hand was on your waist before you had a chance to even think about what you were doing. You gasped into his mouth, letting him guide you backward until the desk hit the back of your thighs. Your hands were tangled in his hair, pulling slightly, and he let out a low groan against your lips.

“We shouldn’t,” he murmured, even as he backed you up against the wood. But he didn’t stop. Neither did you. You helped him take his shirt off. You wanted to explore all the parts the cape was normally covering.

He hoisted you onto the desk with ease, parchment crackling beneath your thighs as you landed. The wood was cool through your slytherin skirt, a sharp contrast to the heat in your chest.

“Spread your legs.” He commands. His voice is deeper and eyes darker.

“You're distracting,” he said, breathless now, fingers trailing up the edge of your blouse. “How’s a bloke supposed to finish a potion like this?”

“You’re the one who kissed me.” You teased him, pressing your hand against his erection. Rubbing it.

“You kissed me back.” He growled.

A soft knock echoed from the far door. You both froze.

“Shit,” you whispered.

Harry cast a quick Silencing Charm toward the hallway, then leaned back in with a grin.

“You owe me ten points from Slytherin with that save.”

“She smirks. “Fine. But you’ll have to work harder if you want the House Cup.”

“Then maybe you should make it up to me some other way,” he said, fingers slipping just under the hem of your skirt.

The parchment crinkled louder now, mingling with the sound of their quickened breathing, the faint creak of old wood. Every noise felt dangerous. Every kiss felt like a dare.

The Silencing Charm fizzled suddenly, the glow snapping out with a quiet pop. They froze again—this time for real—just as Slughorn’s voice echoed faintly down the hall.

“Everything alright in there?”

Harry blinked, panic and adrenaline lighting his features.

“Brilliant,” you muttered, hopping off the desk and straightening your skirt.

He didn’t stop smiling as he helped you button the top of your blouse, eyes flicking down to your lips.

“We are so getting caught,” you whispered.

“Worth it,” he replied.

“Okay. Just finish up in there.” Slughorn says before you hear his footsteps retreat.

“Oh we will sir.” Harry said as you smacked his chest. It took no time for him to devour your face again like it was his air he needed to breathe. As he went to kiss your collarbone, he noticed a necklace.

He looped a few fingers around your silver necklace with Draco’s initials on it. He immediately ripped it off, throwing it across the classroom. You were more of a gold girl anyways.

The moment the necklace was gone, something in Harry changed. You weren’t Draco’s property anymore. His restraint—snapped.

“You’ve been wearing his initials this whole time?” His voice was low, rough, barely recognizable. “That git doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

This time when he kissed you, it was harder. Like he was staking a claim on you. He wanted to make you forget any guy you had ever been with. And you let him.

You moaned into his mouth as he gripped your thighs, spreading them apart with a firm hand as he stepped between them.

“The silencing charm is gone, so you have to be quiet, yeah?” He instructed. You nodded. Anything to have him please you right now.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh in your legs, forcibly pulling you closer to the edge of the desk until there was no space between you. You could feel him—all of him—pressed against your core through layers of fabric. It made your head spin and your heat ache.

“You’re so fucking warm,” he murmured, his thumb trailing around your lips and eventually going into your mouth—which you started sucking. “Been imagining this since the first time you smart-mouthed me in class.”

“Merlin, Potter you’re addicted to me.” You smirked, tugging at his belt.

“Maybe,” he slipped his hand to touch the space between your two legs. He leaned to whisper in your ear. “But I’m not the one soaking for your best friend's enemy.”

After, he pushed your underwear to the side like it was nothing. “You’re dripping for me.” He said, more to himself as an achievement than to you. “All of this for me.” He said, admiring the view.

“Merlin Harry.” you said, bucking your hips.

He pulled back his fingers after you finished, licking them while maintaining eye contact with you. “You taste so sweet. Like cherries and trouble.”

“C’mere,” you begged, grabbing his shirt and dragging him down for another kiss, all teeth and tongue. You could feel the hard line of his cock through his trousers, grinding against you with each movement. You needed him.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, voice hoarse, his forehead pressed to yours.

You grabbed what you wanted.

“Use your words, or I walk out of here right now, love.”

“I want you to fuck me right here on Slughorn’s desk,” you said, unashamed, fire blazing in your chest. “Like you don’t care if someone walks in.”

“I’ll be quick,” he muttered, pulling his pants and underwear down in a swift motion, voice thick with lust. “But next time, you’re riding me until you forget Malfoy’s name.”

“Yes sir.”

And then he was inside you.

You gasped, nails raking down his back as he filled you all at once. There was no easing into it, no time for gentle. He thrust deep and hard, making you moan out of pleasure.

His hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your moans as your head fell back in pleasure. “I said to be quiet.”

His pace was brutal, unforgiving, like he was punishing you for making him want you this much. You clenched around him, making him choke on a moan against your neck.

“Fuck—keep doing that and I’m not gonna last,” he hissed.

You bit down on his shoulder, trying not to scream. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slammed into you, each thrust hitting your core perfectly, you swore you could start seeing stars. It’s like he’s done this before. Your bodies were in sync perfectly.

“Harry,” you moaned, which only sped his pacing up, “Gonna cum,” you whispered into his ear, desperate and wild. “Please—don’t stop—”

“I’ve got you,” he growled. “Cum for me, darling.” He said before moving stray hairs out of your face to look in your eyes.

You shattered around him, muffling your cry into his shoulder as you clenched hard, your whole body pulsing with the release. Harry followed right after, groaning low as he buried himself deep inside you, spilling with a final thrust that left you both trembling.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just the sound of you both catching your breaths, the creak of the desk, and the faint sizzle of a potion that had overheated across the room.

Then Harry slowly pulled back, resting his forehead on yours, still inside you.

“Well,” he panted, smirking. “I think Slughorn’s desk might need a second round of cleaning.”

You smirked right back, running a hand through your hair. “Only if you supervise again.”

Your legs were so jello you almost fell when you both started to put your clothes back on. Although he giggled at first, he was gentle, slowly putting your shirt and underwear back on, making sure you were okay. He stole a few kisses before you had to part ways. Nobody could find out. Especially Draco.

As you walked down the hallway, alone, you were smoothing out your skirt and running your fingers through your hair. Thats when you caught a glimpse of your new tie. Gold and Red.

“Bloody hell.” you muttered. You quickly snatched it off, that would be a bold fashion statement in the Slytheirn common room for sure. One you were not ready to risk tonight.

But you couldn't help the smug little smile curling on your lips, reflecting on tonight’s events. Your neck still tingled where Harry had kissed you. Branded you. Your thighs ached deliciously with every step. You smelled like his cologne and sex and sin.

“Ah, Y/L/N. How was detention?” Draco asked.

“Terrible.” You said fighting a smirk, to which you lost.

“Where’s your tie, Y/N?” Theo noticed.

“Oh I lost it.” That earned a smirk from Blaise. He never spoke yet he knew everything.

You walked to your dorm when Lorenzo followed you.

“Ah, Y/N. You smell like sex. A scent I know all too well. So what really happened at detention? And if you don’t tell me, I’m assuming it was Slughorn.”

Meanwhile, across the hall, Harry walked in with a huge internal grin on his face. While trying to maintain an external ‘innocent and casual’ look. His hair was messier, sticking up in all different directions, where you had tugged on it. His lips tingling and his shirt untucked. But most importantly? The tie around his neck was not red and gold.

“Oi! Mate! What took you so long! ‘Mione made me do all of my homework.” Ron inquired.

“You had detention with Y/N, didn’t you?” Hermione interrogated.

“Yeah. The one I had to oversee.”

Hermione raised a brow. “You’re wearing a Slytherin tie.”

Fuck.

Worth it.

He looked down and pretended like he was surprised. “Huh. Must’ve—uh—mixed them up by accident.”

Ron blinked. “How do you accidentally put on a tie that’s a completely different color?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Harry mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “It was dark.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “You smell like cleaning supplies and… something else.”

“I know what your thinking ‘Mione.” He paused as he sat down in the chair, facing Ron and Hermione who occupied the sofa by the fireplace. “But nothing happened okay?”

“That’s not what your body says. You're practically glowing mate.” Ron said half embarrassed for Harry. Half proud of Harry.

“Your lips are swollen,” Hermione added as she continued to analyze him. “And you’ve got a love bite on your neck.”

Harry slapped a hand over it, heart racing. “Merlin’s beard, Hermione.”

“Harry snogged a Slytherin!” Ron said, putting all the pieces together. “You snogged Y/N Y/L/N.”

Harry stared in the fireplace, refusing to answer. Not out of embarrassment, but out of respect.

“I must say,” Hermione began.

“Must you?” Harry said, throwing his head back.

“Yes.” She paused, then continued. “Y/N is a good match for you-”

“If she wasn’t Malfoy’s best mate.” Ron added.

Which made Harry flashback to when he ripped off your necklace with Malfoy’s initials.

He giggled, remembering the memory, proud of himself.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

“I’m just saying, if Hermione and Ron don’t get together by the end of this year, I will give you ten galleons,” Pansy laughs beside you in the courtyard between classes.

You laugh, shaking her hand. “Deal.”

Draco saunters up like he owns the damn place—confidence and arrogance wrapped up in a perfectly pressed Slytherin uniform. His eyes scan you slowly.

“Y/LN.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah?” Your laughter fades, but you keep the smirk. You know how to match his energy.

“I was—” He pauses, eyes flicking down. “Wait. Where’s your necklace?”

You blink. “What?”

“The silver one. The one I gave you for your birthday.”

Your hand instinctively goes to your neck. Empty. “Oh. I must’ve misplaced it.”

Draco narrows his eyes, something unspoken tightening in his jaw. But he doesn’t press. You feel it though—whatever illusion you two had? It’s slipping.

And then, as if on cue, Harry walks up.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just clocks Draco standing far too close to you. His jaw tightens.

“Ah, Potter,” Draco smirks, catching the tension. “Careful. Keep staring at Y/N like that and people might start thinking you actually like her. Especially after that little Amortentia stunt in Potions.”

Harry’s expression darkens. He knows exactly what Draco’s doing—but so do you. And you don’t stop it.

“Yeah?” Harry says, voice low.

Draco steps closer, smug. They’re almost nose-to-nose now.

Harry looks between the two of you, jaw clenched like he’s debating something dangerous. Then he turns to Draco, voice low but lethal.

“Next time you get close to Y/N…” He pauses. “Let me know how my dick tastes, Malfoy.”

The courtyard goes silent.

Mattheo chokes on his pumpkin juice somewhere behind you. Enzo’s jaw? On the floor.

Draco stares, stunned. He’d expected a snide remark. Not that.

You? You can barely breathe. Heart racing. Legs weak. And somewhere deep down—way deeper than you want to admit—you’re completely, shamelessly turned on.

Harry doesn’t wait. He brushes past, fingers grazing your wrist in a possessive little touch that feels like a brand.

You stare after him, stunned. Then at Draco.

“I—”

You don’t finish. You run.

You find Harry in a shadowy corridor, one no one uses anymore. “Potter!” you snap.

He turns. There’s something flickering in his eyes—guilt? Regret? But it’s gone just as fast.

“What the hell was that?” you push him, palms on his chest.

He pins you to the wall, dark eyes wild. “No.”

“What?”

“You don’t get to look at him like that after last night.” His voice is rough, angry.

“I wasn’t—”

“You’re mine, Y/N.” He leans in, breath hot by your ear. “You know you’re mine.”

His hands plant on either side of your head, caging you in.

“That doesn’t give you the right to—”

His lips hover just inches from yours, daring you to keep going.

“He looked at you like he still had a chance. Asked about the necklace like you’re still his. And you just let him.”

“It’s not like that,” you whisper.

“Then make it clear.”

He looks at your mouth, then your eyes. Your lips crash into his like you’re starved. Need outweighs reason.

“Say it,” he murmurs.

“Say what?”

“Say it, Y/N.”

You hesitate—then surrender. “I’m yours.”

Harry grins against your mouth before kissing you again like he’s claiming what’s his.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Later, you sneak into the Slytherin common room, Harry’s kiss still burning on your lips.

“So it’s true then,” Draco’s voice cuts through the quiet. He’s slouched in a chair, signature green apple in hand. He takes a bite.

You freeze. Of course he knows. Everyone does by now. You sigh.

You don’t say anything.

“Snogging in corridors. Switching ties like love letters.” He scoffs. “You think no one notices?”

“Why do you even care? Draco, we hooked up five times. It didn’t mean anything—you know that.” That was cruel, and you both knew it.

“Because you were mine first, Y/N.” Draco rarely referred to anyone by their first name, so you knew this was serious. He took a swig of his fire whisky. Always was his go-to.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He hesitated, did he want to know the answer to his next query? “Is he better than me?”

You stared off into space, it was at least thirty seconds before you responded. “Yes.”

You looked back at Draco, you could tell that stung. “That half-blood golden boy who doesn’t know what to do with a girl like you.” Draco sticks his tongue in his cheek. “He’ll only break your heart, princess. You’ll regret choosing him.”

You turn to go, but his voice follows you, quieter—almost vulnerable.

“I asked about the necklace because I thought maybe…” he trails off, then swallows hard. “Thought maybe you’d still wear something I gave you. Never mind. I guess you had other things wrapped around your neck anyway.”

That almost gets you.

Almost.

“Draco, stop.”

“Was it when we were…?” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t have to.

“Don’t twist this.”

“Well, you’re not denying it.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Enjoy being his dirty little secret. Let me know when the Gryffindor guilt eats him alive.”

You walk away, letting Draco have the last word. But this isn’t over. Not with Draco. Not with Harry. And definitely not with the girl staring back at you in the mirror.

[leriexoxo]

I’ll Let The World Burn

Hyunjin x Fem Reader (Bestfriends Boyfriend AU)

Tags: forbidden romance, smut, slow burn, explicit smut (oral m & f, unprotected sex, riding, fingering, recording, light exhibitionism, heavy angst, cheating, moral grayness, emotionally messy characters, guilt, betrayal, broken friendships, voyeurism kink / stolen panties / video exchange

Word count: 7.5k

Summary: You tried to be good. You smiled as your best friend fell for the boy you’d secretly been aching for. You told yourself it was fine, that it would pass. That you could handle the slow suffocation of watching him kiss her, love her, laugh with her—without you. But desire isn’t rational. And love doesn’t care who it destroys.

A/N: You’re here for sin. For breathless kisses behind closed doors, trembling fingers clutching secrets, and a boy who loves you like ruin.

This fic is messy. Shameful. Beautiful.

And if you’ve ever wanted something you shouldn’t,

This one’s for you.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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

The theater lights dimmed, and you already knew you were in trouble.

You were seated at the edge of the row—aisle seat, leg stretched just enough to pretend you were comfortable. Hyunjin sat beside you, and his girlfriend—your best friend—was tucked on his other side, gleefully tossing popcorn into her mouth as the opening credits rolled.

You shouldn’t have been there. Not tonight. Not with them. Not like this.

But third-wheeling had become your unspoken role. After all, you’d introduced them.

And that was where the problem started.

⸻

Backstory…

You’d known Hyunjin first—met him on campus during a group project, flirted casually, shared late-night coffees, complained about professors. You were attracted to him from the jump, of course. Who wouldn’t be? He was all sharp jawlines, smug smiles, and that lazy, magnetic charm that made people gravitate toward him without even trying.

But you weren’t the kind of girl who threw herself at someone just because he made you laugh.

So you backed off. Told yourself he wasn’t worth the distraction.

Then you introduced him to your best friend.

And he fell for her. Or said he did.

But here’s the thing: Hyunjin never really stopped looking at you.

He never stopped with the lingering glances, the too-long hugs, the texts that made your breath hitch at 1:43am. It was always subtle. Always just beneath the surface.

Until it wasn’t.

You never told anyone about the night he walked you home drunk from a party and pushed you against your door just to look at you. Never kissed you. Just leaned in close, stared at your lips, and whispered, “You drive me crazy.”

You laughed it off. Called him a menace. Said don’t do that again.

But he did.

And now here you were. Months later. Lights fading to black in a movie theater, your knees brushing his as you tried to stay normal.

He shifted slightly in his seat.

At first, you thought it was accidental. But then—his hand dropped onto the shared armrest. Not beside you. On you. Pinky grazing yours deliberately.

You tensed.

His fingers curled, slowly brushing over your knuckles. Testing.

You shot him a warning glance, but he didn’t look your way. He was watching the screen, face blank, like nothing was happening.

His girlfriend laughed loudly beside him at a joke you didn’t hear.

And then—you felt it.

Hyunjin’s hand slid just slightly into your lap. Palm down, fingers splayed. Not groping. Not grabbing. Just… resting.

Like it was his.

Your chest tightened. Your thighs shifted on instinct, but not to move away.

His thumb twitched.

You bit your lip.

He was testing you.

And you were letting him.

You were trying to focus on the movie.

You really were. But Hyunjin’s hand on your thigh made that impossible.

It started when he casually leaned forward, whispered something to his girlfriend—some joke, something cute, something completely normal. Then he grabbed the popcorn bucket, pretending like he was being helpful, and settled it in your lap with a little grin that said “thanks for holding this.”

But then he didn’t let go.

You were too stunned to move. His hand stayed inside the bucket, knuckles brushing yours at first. Then it drifted—deeper. Slower. Until he wasn’t reaching for popcorn at all.

He was reaching for you.

Your breath caught as his fingers grazed your inner thigh again, hidden perfectly beneath the bucket and the shadows of the dark theater. You shifted, but that only opened your legs slightly—just enough for his fingers to press higher.

Still, his eyes were locked on the screen. Completely unfazed. Not even a glance.

You gripped the armrest. “Hyunjin,” you hissed under your breath.

He hummed low in his throat, finally flicking his eyes toward you. “What?”

Soft. Innocent. Daring.

“Don’t,” you said, but your voice wasn’t even convincing to yourself.

“Then stop me,” he whispered, fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your skirt this time—skin against skin.

Your body betrayed you with a sharp inhale. His thumb circled lazily, like he was testing how close he could get before you’d actually stop him. But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because it felt good. Because it was wrong. Because you were sick in the head, and Hyunjin knew exactly how far to push.

“I knew you’d let me,” he murmured, voice a razor-thin tease.

You clenched your jaw, thighs trembling slightly as his fingers pressed higher—so close now, just brushing the edge of your panties.

And still, beside him, his girlfriend giggled at the screen, blissfully unaware.

You didn’t dare look at her.

Didn’t dare move.

Because the second you did, it was over—and you’d have to admit how far gone you already were.

You weren’t sure when your breath started shaking.

Maybe it was when Hyunjin’s fingers ghosted over the lace of your panties—slow, like he was testing the texture. Or maybe it was when he really stopped pretending to reach for popcorn and flattened his palm against your heat, hidden completely beneath the bucket and the hush of the theater.

You shifted slightly in your seat—just enough to press down into his hand.

God help you.

He noticed, of course. Of course he did. You heard it in the small exhale he gave, soft and amused, his smug little secret blooming between your thighs.

Then, like the absolute psychopath he was, he whispered:

“Keep still.”

Keep still? You wanted to grab him by the throat.

Because now he was rubbing you through your panties—slow and firm, thumb dragging up the soaked center like he was timing it with the music score. He had no right to be that smooth. No right to act like this was his seat, his movie, his body he was teasing.

The audacity.

You clenched your jaw and dared to glance sideways.

And there she was.

His girlfriend. Your best friend. Leaning her head on his shoulder, laughing at some cheesy line in the film, eyes glued to the screen. Completely untouched. Completely unaware.

And Hyunjin?

He met your eyes. Finally. Dead on.

Expression unreadable. Lips parted like he was trying to catch your breath in his mouth.

And then—

He slipped two fingers beneath the waistband.

Not just a graze.

A full, slow slide over your bare heat.

You flinched. Bit the inside of your cheek. Your thighs clamped down on instinct, but it only trapped him tighter there, and he moaned—the quietest fucking sound you’d ever heard.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re so—”

“Stop,” you whispered. You had to say it. You had to.

But he didn’t.

He just leaned in again, voice like honey and sin:

“She’s not paying attention. Not to me. Not like you do.”

Your pulse screamed.

He pressed his fingers a little deeper—just the edge, testing your limit. Testing his own.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered again. “Mean it.”

But you didn’t.

Because you couldn’t.

Because this was the fire you’d both been dancing around for too long.

And now it was burning.

It was the slow slide in that broke you.

Hyunjin didn’t even glance at you when he did it—just slipped two fingers beneath the lace of your panties and pressed in like your body belonged to him. Like it was natural. Like you’d been waiting for him to finally fill the ache he’d lit inside you from the second the lights dimmed.

Your jaw tensed so hard it almost clicked.

He was warm, fingers thick and careful at first, dragging through your soaked entrance—just one finger easing in at first, slick and smooth, and then another following right behind, slow and deliberate until his knuckles nudged your heat and didn’t stop.

He went deep.

Deep enough that your hips twitched, thighs clenching on instinct as your back arched just slightly against the seat.

And he still didn’t look at you.

His girlfriend, nestled against his left side, nuzzled into his shoulder with a soft giggle at something on-screen.

And then her voice hit you like ice water:

“Babes, did you ever end up messaging that tattoo guy? You know, the one with the tiny linework stuff?”

You turned toward her too fast—like your body was trying to escape.

But Hyunjin’s fingers curled inside you, and you nearly choked.

“Uh—” Your voice cracked. “Y-Yeah. I did.”

He liked that. You could feel it in the subtle roll of his knuckles, in the way his wrist shifted beneath the popcorn bucket as his palm ground softly against your clit, like a reward.

“Really?” she smiled, leaning forward now, eyes lit with interest. “What’d he say?”

He was fucking moving inside you.

Not fast. Not reckless. No, Hyunjin was too cruel for that. He dragged his fingers out just halfway and pushed back in—slow, wet, thick.

“Booked out till—” you gasped softly and coughed to cover it. “Uh—June.”

Her hand brushed your arm as she reached past you. “Oh damn. That sucks. You were really excited, right?”

Your eyes snapped shut.

Hyunjin’s fingers crooked just right—pressing deep against that spot that made you see stars.

Your legs trembled. You couldn’t even breathe right. His girlfriend was still talking, still right there, and he didn’t stop. His fingers kept working you open, pushing slick sounds into the theater’s quiet shadows, muffled only by the soundtrack and rustling popcorn.

She shifted back beside him, curling into his side with a little hum.

You felt everything.

The soft of her hoodie brushing your elbow.

The exact moment Hyunjin’s thumb started circling your clit—gentle, barely-there pressure.

The tension snapping up your spine like a scream trapped in your throat.

And then—his voice. A whisper. Only for you:

“Don’t make a sound.”

He said it like a game. Like a dare.

—

You didn’t mean to stand.

Your body just moved.

One second, you were melting under Hyunjin’s touch, your pulse screaming through every nerve, his fingers working inside you like he owned you—and the next, your thighs snapped together, your hand shot down, and you yanked the popcorn bucket off your lap like it burned.

“Be right back,” you blurted.

Hyunjin’s fingers slipped out of you in a wet drag, and you swore you heard a barely-there gasp leave his throat this time.

Your best friend blinked up at you. “Wait, everything okay—?”

“I just—bathroom,” you muttered, already squeezing past their legs, practically stumbling over someone’s drink cup in the aisle. You didn’t wait. You didn’t breathe.

You ran.

Heart hammering, body soaked with heat, underwear clinging like a second skin—you shoved open the theater doors and didn’t stop until you were outside in the open air, gasping like someone had just resuscitated you.

You didn’t go to the bathroom.

You went straight to the curb.

You fumbled for your phone with shaking fingers and called the first cab you could find. Every nerve in your body was screaming. Not from shame. Not even from guilt.

From the unbearable edge he left you on.

The ache between your legs was unbearable. You could still feel him inside you. His fingers. The way he looked at you like he was tasting the way you fell apart.

You pressed your thighs together in the cab seat.

The driver didn’t even glance at you. Thank god.

You wanted to scream. Cry. Touch yourself. Laugh at your own sick reflection in the window.

What the fuck was that?

What the hell were you?

You didn’t even know what you were running from more—Hyunjin, or the part of you that wanted to go back in there and let him finish.

—

You hadn’t stopped pacing since the texts started coming in.

bestie: where’d u go?? are u ok??

bestie: are u mad at me???

bestie: y/nnnnnn pick up

Then his name lit up your screen.

hyunjin: did i break you?

You froze.

That cocky bastard.

Not are you okay? Not i’m sorry.

No—did i break you.

Your fingers flew before you could stop yourself.

you: what the fuck was that??

His reply came too fast.

hyunjin: which part?

You stared at your screen, mouth open in disbelief.

Your phone rang.

You hesitated, staring at his name. Then, without thinking twice, you answered—already pacing again.

“What the fuck was that?” you hissed, skipping hello.

Silence on the other end.

And then—his voice.

Low. Too casual.

“That,” he said slowly, “was me giving you exactly what you wanted.”

You almost dropped the phone.

“You think I wanted you to finger me right next to your girlfriend—my best friend—in a goddamn movie theater?!”

Another pause. Then, quieter:

“You didn’t stop me.”

Your stomach flipped.

“And you came close, didn’t you?” he added, voice darkening just slightly. “So close I could feel it. You were clenching around my fingers like you needed it.”

You dragged your hand down your face, heart slamming against your ribs.

“You’re insane.”

“I’m right.”

“You’re a fucking—”

“—god?” he offered, half-laughing.

“Hyunjin.” you snapped.

His laughter faded, replaced by a silence too heavy to ignore.

“Tell me you didn’t like it,” he said, suddenly serious. “Lie to me.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

And he knew.

Of course he knew.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

“No,” he said softly. “You hate that I stopped.”

—

Two days later…

The apartment was too quiet for your heart to be beating this loud.

Hyunjin was on the couch—legs spread wide, one arm draped lazily around your bestie’s shoulder as she tucked into his side with a bowl of chips and zero clue about what happened two nights ago.

You were seated across from them in the armchair, one leg folded over the other, pretending to scroll through your phone.

Except you weren’t scrolling anymore.

Because Hyunjin had just sent this:

hyunjin: go take off your panties. right now.

Your breath caught.

Your head snapped up—reflex—and his eyes were already on you. No smile. No smirk. Just heat.

Like he was burning holes through your clothes.

Your best friend was giggling at something on TikTok, oblivious.

you: are you fucking insane???

You watched his phone light up in his lap.

Then:

hyunjin: probably.

but i wanna see your face when you walk back in here bare under that little skirt.

You looked down at your outfit. A stupid soft cotton mini you threw on without thinking. No shorts. No tights. Just the skirt and the little tank you slept in.

You were already halfway there and he knew it.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

you: you’re a piece of shit.

hyunjin: and you love it.

go.

Your pulse was thunder in your ears. You stared at the screen, then flicked your eyes back to him one last time.

He didn’t blink.

So you stood up on shaky legs. “Gonna grab a hoodie,” you mumbled, already walking away.

“Bring me one too!” your best friend called after you.

You barely heard her.

Once inside your room, you shut the door and leaned against it, squeezing your eyes shut like it might slow your heart down. It didn’t. Your fingers trembled as you reached under your skirt, hooked the band of your panties, and slid them down your thighs.

You were wet.

Of course you were.

The fabric stuck to you as you tugged it off completely, a quiet whimper catching in your throat as you balled them in your hand and stared at yourself in the mirror.

You looked insane.

You looked guilty.

And then you walked back out like nothing happened—panties shoved into your hoodie pocket, skin bare under the swing of your skirt.

Hyunjin looked at you the second you stepped into the living room.

His eyes dipped.

Just once.

And you swore he exhaled—like he could smell you

—

You should’ve known he’d follow.

You barely made it to the kitchen—heart still lodged in your throat, fingers clutching the cold juice bottle in the fridge—when you felt him behind you.

The air changed. Grew heavier.

And then his hand slid into your hoodie pocket.

“Hyunjin—” you gasped, spinning around.

But it was too late.

He held your panties in his hand like a fucking trophy, eyes dragging down to the damp spot you’d tried to ignore. His lips parted—just barely—but he didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, stepping into him, voice low and shaky.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he looked over your shoulder. Past you. Back into the living room.

Where she sat.

Still laughing.

Still happy.

Still so fucking oblivious.

And then Hyunjin’s eyes snapped back to yours—dark, heavy-lidded, dangerous.

He took your hand—slow, deliberate—and placed it over the thick bulge in his sweatpants.

You choked on your own breath. It was hot. Hard. Throbbing.

“Because I can’t think,” he whispered, leaning in until his breath kissed your neck, “until I’m inside you.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

“Hyunjin—”

“Doesn’t matter where. Doesn’t matter how.” His grip on your wrist tightened. “I just need to feel you. Wrap that pretty pussy around me. Let me ruin you properly.”

Your fingers twitched around his cock, mind going blank.

“This is insane,” you whispered.

He smiled, like he agreed.

“And you’re gonna let me do it anyway.”

“Hyunjin,” you hissed, shoving at his chest. “You need to stop. What the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t budge.

He just looked at you like you’d lost your mind. Or maybe like he had.

“Stop?” he repeated, voice too calm. “You’re telling me to stop now?”

“Yes!” you snapped, even though your palm was still curled around his cock, trembling.

“You’re not stopping me,” he said flatly, stepping closer, “not once.”

Your stomach dropped.

“You didn’t stop me in the theater.”

You froze.

“You didn’t stop me when I made you walk back into the living room dripping under that little skirt.”

He dipped his head, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“And you’re not stopping me now.”

You sucked in a breath—ready to scream at him, curse him, run—but then—

“Everything okay in there?” your bestie called from the couch.

Your heart stopped.

Hyunjin’s gaze didn’t even flicker. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t panic.

You did.

You twisted out of his grip like he burned you, stumbling two steps back and grabbing the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

“Y-Yeah!” you shouted, voice an octave too high. “All good!”

Hyunjin chuckled.

You shot him a look. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re shaking.”

“I hate you.”

“No,” he said smoothly, stepping closer again. “You hate that you love every second of it.”

You turned away, fists clenched, trying to breathe through the fire crawling up your spine.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered.

Hyunjin leaned in again—close enough to taste the ruin on your skin.

“Because no one,” he murmured, eyes flicking down, “has ever made me this hard for this long without letting me bury it.”

—

It was 2:13 a.m.

The room had fallen silent hours ago, swallowed by the kind of heavy stillness that only existed when everyone else was asleep. Everyone but him.

Hyunjin lay still in the dark, one arm thrown behind his head, the other curled tight around the secret burning a hole in his hoodie pocket.

He didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.

Not when his cock had been hard for hours, aching with every thought of you, with every replay of your voice breaking in the kitchen, trembling and furious and wet.

Not when your panties—thin, soft, still damp—were pressed against his side like a loaded gun.

Your bestie shifted beside him, rolling closer in her sleep, the blanket rustling. Her face was peaceful. Completely unaware of what was going on in her bed.

He waited.

Waited until her breathing evened out again. Waited until the room was still, save for the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

Then, with a slowness that was almost reverent, he slipped the lace from his pocket.

The panties unfurled in his hand like a sin. He held them up to the blue light of his phone screen, eyes half-lidded, jaw clenched.

His cock throbbed.

He brought the fabric to his nose. Inhaled.

Then he shoved down his sweats and lined up the camera.

He didn’t need the flash. Just the glow of the screen, casting pale shadows across his stomach, the lace, the hard line of him twitching with need.

He started slow.

The panties wrapped around his fist like a bandage, like restraint. Every stroke was controlled, deliberate, mean. He wanted to make it hurt. Wanted to make himself feel just how badly he needed you.

Your name slipped from his mouth on a ragged breath—quiet, hoarse, desperate.

The bed creaked.

He stilled, glancing at his girlfriend, but she hadn’t stirred.

So he kept going.

Faster now, rougher, until the muscles in his thighs were shaking and his hand was sticky with pre-cum and frustration. Until he felt himself cresting, jaw tight, breath caught in his throat.

He came with a grunt, hot and thick over the lace, spilling through the fabric like he was marking it—like he was marking you.

But he didn’t stop the camera.

Not until he’d wiped himself clean on the same ruined panties, slow and messy and shameless.

Not until he watched it all back once, licking his lips like he could taste you again.

Then he hovered over your name.

Didn’t even think.

He pressed send.

—

You couldn’t sleep.

Not with the way your skin still tingled from his breath on your neck. Not with the ache between your legs. Not with the memory of his voice curling around every filthy word like a promise.

Hyunjin was driving you insane.

You’d tried everything—blasting music through your headphones, scrolling aimlessly, even cold fucking water. Nothing worked.

And then your phone buzzed.

One notification.

A video.

You knew it was him before you even opened it. Something in your gut twisted. Your finger hovered for only a second—then you tapped it.

And then you stopped breathing.

It was grainy, dimly lit by his phone screen, but you saw everything.

Your panties. His cock. His fist, slow and steady, squeezing like he was punishing himself with every stroke. The way he bit down on your name like it hurt to say it.

Your best friend was there. Right beside him. Sleeping.

And he didn’t care.

You watched until he came—messy and raw and moaning through his teeth—and wiped himself off with the lace like it belonged to him.

When the video ended, your hands were shaking.

Something snapped.

You didn’t think. Didn’t plan.

You typed two words.

Doors open.

—

You didn’t even hear your bedroom door open.

You just felt him.

That heavy presence, that heat rolling in like a thunderstorm—thick, electric, and choking on tension. You looked up, heart stalling in your chest.

Hyunjin.

Sweat-slick hair pushed back from his forehead. Hoodie half-on, half-off. His chest heaving like he’d run all the way down the hall.

And his cock?

Already hard. Straining against the front of his sweats. Angry. Red. Dripping.

You swallowed hard.

His eyes locked on yours—then dipped to your bare legs, your shirt riding up over your thighs. His jaw clenched.

“You texted me,” he said, voice wrecked. “You said the door was open.”

“It was.”

“So you wanted this.”

“No,” you whispered. “You wanted this.”

A muscle in his cheek jumped.

And then he moved.

In one breath, you were gone from the floor—lifted clean off your feet like you weighed nothing. He shoved you against the wall, mouth crashing to yours in a kiss that tasted like vengeance. Like victory. Like he’d finally won.

You moaned into it, fingers threading through his hair, legs instinctively locking around his waist.

“You fought me,” he growled against your lips, dragging his mouth down your jaw, your throat. “You fucking fought me—”

“I had to,” you gasped. “You weren’t supposed to—ah!”

He bit your neck. Hard. His hips grinding into your core like he wanted to break through clothes and skin and bone just to get inside you.

“Too bad,” he hissed. “Because now I’m not stopping.”

You didn’t want him to.

He dropped you onto the bed like you were made of air. Your body bounced on the mattress once, and then he was on you again—ripping your shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere into the dark, dragging your panties down your thighs like they offended him.

His hands grabbed your waist. He flipped you, pulled you onto his lap like a ragdoll, your knees straddling his thighs.

You barely had time to blink before he fisted his cock, lined himself up, and slammed you down onto him.

“Fuck!” You cried out, head snapping back, eyes rolling.

Your walls stretched around him—too full, too fast, no time to breathe, just burning, pulsing, pleasure.

“That’s it,” Hyunjin groaned, watching your body swallow him whole. “Fucking take it. You were made for this. Made for me.”

He bounced you.

He used you.

Hands gripping your hips so tight you’d have bruises in the morning. Lifting you up, slamming you back down over and over like you were nothing but his personal fucktoy.

And you were.

You always had been.

“Hyun—Hyunjin—” you sobbed, arms trembling, nails digging into his shoulders. “Too much—please—”

He buried his face in your neck, moaning against your skin.

“Don’t beg,” he panted. “Not when this pussy’s sucking me in like it’s been waiting.”

You keened at his words. Your body buckled, your thighs shaking.

He didn’t stop.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, the other between your legs, fingers circling your clit in tight, merciless circles.

You shattered.

Your whole body clenched, went tight, went still, as the orgasm ripped through you like lightning—violent, all-consuming, and blinding. You screamed his name, nails dragging bloody crescents into his back.

And Hyunjin? He lost it.

“Fuck—fuck, baby, I’m coming—” he grunted, thrusting up deep, deeper, until he was buried to the hilt, cock twitching, hot cum spilling inside you in heavy, pulsing waves.

He didn’t stop holding you.

Even after the last tremor passed. Even after you went boneless in his lap, forehead resting on his shoulder, sweat-slick and dazed.

He just stroked your back.

Soft now.

Breathing hard.

Like he hadn’t just fucked you like he was trying to keep a piece of you inside him.

“Don’t think this means I’m done with you,” he murmured against your temple. “Not even close.”

Oh babe…

You want the ache. The tangled sheets. The guilt that tastes like sugar on the tongue.

You want the delicate crash after the storm—where reality creeps back in, but the warmth of what just happened still lingers like bruises.

Let’s make it tender. Messy. Devastating.

Because this wasn’t just sex.

It was surrender.

⸻

The room was quiet again.

Only the sound of your breathing, still uneven. Only the warmth of his skin pressed to yours, still sticky. Only the beat of your heart, still not your own.

Hyunjin lay beneath you, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other stroking slow lines down your spine.

You hadn’t moved in minutes.

You didn’t want to.

Because moving meant thinking.

And thinking meant remembering that just down the hall, your best friend—his girlfriend—was fast asleep, blissfully unaware that her bed was empty, and her boyfriend’s cum was still dripping from between your thighs.

You swallowed hard.

“Hyunjin…”

He hummed.

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even know where to start.

“This was…” You trailed off.

He sighed.

“I know.”

You pushed up just enough to look at him. His eyes were already on you—dark and unreadable, but so soft. The kind of soft that made it worse.

The kind of soft that meant something.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you whispered.

“Yes, you did.”

You flinched.

He reached up and cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing beneath your eye like he could smooth out the war behind it.

“I did too,” he said. “We both did.”

A tear slipped from the corner of your eye. You didn’t even realize it until he wiped it away.

“She’s my best friend.”

“I know.”

“And you’re hers.”

“I know.”

His voice cracked, just barely.

You sat in silence, curled into his chest like maybe the warmth would erase the wrongness. Like maybe if you stayed quiet long enough, the world would let you keep this just a little longer.

But it didn’t.

“I’ll fix it,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ll fix it. I promise.” He looked up at the ceiling, jaw tight. “I don’t know how. I don’t know what that even means yet. But I’ll make it right.”

You searched his face. “There is no right.”

“There’s you.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned up then—just a little—and kissed you.

It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t possessive or punishing or filthy.

It was quiet.

Soft.

Like an apology he didn’t know how to say.

Like he wanted to remember this moment forever—before the world ripped it out of his hands.

When he pulled back, his eyes lingered.

Then he sat up, reached for his clothes in silence, and dressed without another word. His hoodie, his sweats. His calm.

Only when he reached the door did he turn back.

She was waiting for him. Warm sheets. A lie.

You were still in bed, curled up in the mess he left behind.

“I’ll come back,” he said quietly.

And then he slipped out the door—back into her room. Back into her arms. Back into the lie they were both pretending to live.

But you?

You just stared at the ceiling, your skin still humming where he’d touched you.

No regrets.

Only ruin.

—

The sun had barely risen.

Soft light spilled through the kitchen window, painting warm gold across the countertops, the floor, the shadows of a night neither of you could forget.

You stood at the table, bleary-eyed, a mug of coffee cooling in your hand, while your best friend rushed around the kitchen.

“I’m so late,” she groaned, juggling her purse, shoes, and half a piece of toast. “Do I look okay?”

“Perfect,” you said automatically.

She beamed, kissed your cheek, and threw a distracted “Love you both!” over her shoulder before disappearing through the front door, the lock clicking softly behind her.

And then there was silence.

Just you. And him.

You didn’t turn around.

But you felt him.

Hyunjin was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes heavy-lidded and locked on you like he’d been waiting for this moment since the second she kissed him goodbye.

“I thought you’d run,” you said softly.

“I almost did.”

He stepped forward.

“But I couldn’t.”

You stayed still as he came closer, until his chest brushed your back and his hands slid around your waist—gentle this time. No grabbing. No claiming. Just holding.

“You haven’t even looked at me,” he murmured.

“I’m afraid to.”

“Don’t be.”

He turned you in his arms, slow and careful, like you might shatter.

And when your eyes finally met his… you felt the air leave your lungs.

Gone was the ruthless, teasing Hyunjin from last night.

This man—this version of him—looked starved in a different way.

Like he’d tasted something divine and wasn’t sure if he was allowed to want more.

“I dreamt about you,” he said. “While I was lying in her bed.”

Your throat closed.

“I woke up hard,” he added, voice low, raw. “And all I wanted was to crawl out and finish what we started.”

Your breath hitched. “We already finished it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Last night was hunger.”

Then he backed you against the kitchen counter.

“This…” he said, sinking to his knees in front of you, hands curling around your thighs, eyes burning up into yours.

“This is different.”

You gasped as he kissed your hip. Then the other. His mouth trailed lower, over your skin, slow and reverent, until he was pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs like he was praying.

He didn’t rush.

Didn’t tease.

Just spread you open and looked at you like you were a painting meant to be devoured.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice shaking. “How the fuck did I go this long without knowing?”

Then his mouth was on you—soft licks, slow suck, tongue working in lazy circles like he had all the time in the world. Like your pleasure was holy.

You moaned, fingers threading through his hair, hips grinding against his mouth as your legs started to shake.

And still, he didn’t stop.

Didn’t even speed up.

He just held you there, worshipping every part of you until you broke apart in his arms, sobbing his name into the quiet kitchen air.

He stood.

You were panting, ruined, still trembling—but he wasn’t done.

He pulled you up onto the counter like a doll—delicate and pliant—lined himself up and sank into you with one long, deep thrust that made your whole body arch into him.

“Oh my god—” you breathed.

“No,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours, “just me.”

His rhythm was slow. Deep. Devastating.

Every thrust came with a kiss—your shoulder, your collarbone, your lips. Every moan earned a whispered praise.

“You feel like heaven.”

“Made for me.”

“So fucking perfect.”

His hands cupped your jaw, holding your face like he was memorizing it.

And when you came again, crying out his name, he followed with a groan that sounded like something between a prayer and a curse.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t let you go.

Just held you against him, your legs still wrapped around his waist, your breaths tangling in each other’s mouths.

Like maybe if you stayed just like this…

…it wouldn’t have to end.

—

He did it.

Hyunjin told her.

You watched from the hallway, heart lodged in your throat, as he sat her down on the couch. His voice was low, gentle, guilt-stricken. Like the weight of every stolen kiss, every whispered moan between your legs, was finally breaking his spine.

“I need to tell you something,” he started.

She looked up at him, blinking. Innocent. Curious. Too calm.

“This isn’t working,” he said, a breath catching in his throat. “And it hasn’t been for a long time. I’ve been—” He faltered. “I haven’t been honest with you. I’ve done things… with someone else. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. I crossed a line. I hurt you.”

She stared at him.

Then blinked again.

Then smiled.

Not sad.

Not surprised.

Just… amused.

“Wow,” she said softly. “That took longer than I expected.”

Hyunjin stiffened. “What?”

“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to grow a spine and say it to my face,” she said, her voice light, casual, dangerous. “But hey, congrats. You finally did.”

He frowned. “You knew?”

She laughed. Laughed. Tossed her head back like this was some kind of soap opera and she was the villainess on her third glass of red wine.

“Hyunjin,” she said, standing up and walking over to the window. “I’ve known for weeks.”

His silence was immediate. You could feel it ripple through the house.

“I saw your texts,” she added, turning back to him. “The pictures. The fucking video you sent her at two in the morning when you thought I was sleeping beside you.”

His face went pale. “You—”

“I woke up,” she said. “I saw everything.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“And don’t even try to say sorry. This is fair game.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That means,” she said coolly, stepping close to him now, chin tilted high, “that little interview I told you I had a few mornings ago? The one I left in a rush for?”

She smirked.

“There was no interview.”

Hyunjin blinked.

“I went to see someone. A man.” Her smile twisted. “Someone who actually wants me.”

His breath caught.

“You’re not the only one who can lie, Hyunjin. I’ve been letting you play your little games, watching you both tiptoe around, thinking you’re so fucking clever. But I’ve been playing, too.”

He stared at her, stunned. “You fucked someone?”

She tilted her head. “More than once.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “You gave up on me first. I just didn’t beg you to stay.”

Hyunjin said nothing.

You felt frozen. Ashamed. Sick.

But there was a strange, twisted sense of justice to it all. Like all of you were equally filthy now. No one above the other. Just a triangle of secrets and spite, betrayal and broken hearts.

“You’re mad?” she asked, stepping even closer. “Why? Because you thought you’d be the only one breaking the rules?”

“No,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “I’m mad because I didn’t know. I should’ve seen it.”

She chuckled. “Oh, Hyunjin. You didn’t see me even when I was right in front of you.”

He took a shaky breath, guilt and anger and some unnameable grief painting his face in shades you’d never seen before.

She turned, grabbing her coat, slipping on her shoes.

“You can have her,” she said simply, nodding toward the hallway where you stood trembling. “If that’s what you want.”

She looked at him one last time.

“But I hope you both know—you didn’t win. You just lost me.”

And with that, she walked out.

No crying. No screaming. No scene.

Just silence.

And the weight of your own sins pressing into your lungs like smoke.

You didn’t think—you just moved.

The second the door clicked shut behind her, your feet were already following. Down the hall, past the elevator, out into the street where she stood under the flickering porch light, arms wrapped around herself like armor.

“Wait!” you called, voice too loud in the quiet night.

She didn’t turn.

You caught up to her anyway, breathless. Heart pounding. Hands shaking.

“Please,” you whispered, stopping just shy of her. “Just let me talk to you.”

She finally looked at you—and god, you wished she hadn’t.

There was no fire in her eyes. No rage.

Just a deep, quiet disappointment that sank deeper than any slap ever could.

“You don’t get to ask me for anything,” she said. “Not after this.”

“I know. I know I don’t.” Your voice cracked. “But I need you to hear me.”

She didn’t move.

Didn’t soften.

But she didn’t walk away either.

You took that as permission.

“I never wanted this to happen,” you said. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even know how far it had gone until it was too late.”

She scoffed. “Don’t insult me with that. You had weeks to stop it.”

“I tried,” you cried. “I tried to be strong. But you don’t know what it was like—”

“No,” she snapped, eyes blazing now. “I don’t. Because I trusted you.”

That cut deeper than anything else.

You stepped closer, tears blurring your vision.

“It wasn’t just sex,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t some impulsive, drunken thing. I’ve been falling for him for a long time. Since before you even met him.”

She froze.

Your voice broke. “I introduced you to him… because I thought I could be strong. I thought I could push it down and be a good friend. I wanted to be a good friend. But every day you were with him—it felt like I was watching someone else live my life.”

Her lip trembled, but she clenched her jaw tight, forcing it still.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you continued. “But the heart doesn’t listen. The heart aches for what it wants, and mine… mine’s been screaming for him. And I was so ashamed of that.”

She let out a slow, shaky breath.

“So that’s it?” she asked quietly. “You love him, so it’s okay?”

“No,” you said. “It’s not okay. It’ll never be okay.”

You took another step, close enough to touch, but you didn’t dare.

“I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t meaningless. That you weren’t some casualty in a stupid game. I’ve hated myself every second for this, but I didn’t want to lie to you—not anymore.”

The silence hung like a blade between you.

And then, finally, she looked up.

“You loved me too,” she said. Not a question. Just a reminder.

You felt your chest cave in. “I still do.”

She nodded slowly.

“I just don’t think I can ever forgive you,” she whispered.

And this time, when she walked away…

You let her.

Because love wasn’t enough to fix what you broke.

And some wounds just may not heal.

—

You didn’t hear the footsteps.

Didn’t see the figure lingering behind the open door.

But Hyunjin was there.

He’d followed without even thinking—expecting a fight, maybe, a screaming match between friends, full of guilt and blame and fury. He was ready to defend you, to take the fall if he had to.

But he hadn’t expected this.

He hadn’t expected to hear you break.

He stood frozen in the hallway, just around the corner, your voice drifting to him like a lifeline.

“It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t some impulsive, drunken thing. I’ve been falling for him for a long time. Since before you even met him.”

He inhaled sharply, heart clenching in his chest.

“I introduced you to him… because I thought I could be strong.”

His eyes fluttered shut.

Every stolen touch. Every breathless moment. Every time he thought he was dragging you into something you didn’t want, something you couldn’t escape—you’d already been his. Quietly. Completely.

You just never said it.

Until now.

When it was already too late.

“I just wanted you to know it wasn’t meaningless…”

God. You meant all of it.

When you came back inside, the hallway was quiet.

You didn’t expect to see him standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head bowed—like he’d been holding the weight of the world on his shoulders and only just realized he didn’t have to carry it alone.

Your heart lurched. “Hyunjin—”

“I heard everything,” he said, voice soft.

You froze.

He looked up.

And he smiled.

It wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t smug.

It was relief.

“Everything?” you whispered.

He nodded, stepping forward. “You loved me before I even touched you?”

You swallowed. “I think I always did.”

He closed the distance between you, hands finding your face, holding you like something delicate and divine.

“And I thought I was the only one losing my mind,” he murmured.

You blinked up at him, your bottom lip trembling.

“I thought I dragged you into something you didn’t want,” he said. “I thought I corrupted you. Used you. I hated myself for it. But hearing you say it like that… I finally feel like I can breathe.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt. “I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t regret us.”

His thumb brushed your cheek.

“Neither do I,” he whispered. “We fucked up. Bad. But I’d do it all over again if it meant ending up right here—with you.”

Your breath caught.

“You think we’ll be okay?” you asked, voice small. “After all this?”

He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then the corners of your lips.

“I think… friendships can be rebuilt,” he said. “But what we have? This thing that broke the rules and shattered everything else?”

He kissed you gently—soft, slow, full of quiet worship.

“That’s the kind of thing worth ruining everything for.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t hurt to hold him.

It just felt like home.

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

Authors note: This is a story that feels wrong but right, soft hands in dark places, and love that makes sinners of us all.

If you enjoyed this as much as i did, leave me a like and a REBLOG ❤️ i always check for those

[2handsslan]

max verstappen // mv1 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

misunderstood hero with a heart of gold - @harrysfolklore

“max verstappen has never been one to read books, but everything changes when he comes across a pretty booktuber who describes him better than anyone else did before”

two sides of the same coin - @monzabee

“the one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all”

a small request - @postracehair

“even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note”

my world (champion) - @italiangirlcoresblog

“the aftermath of the las vegas grand prix with max”

vegas baby - @neferaskingdom

“after winning his fourth world championship, max verstappen stuns the world with a live radio proposal”

work it out - @maxverstappendefender

“mclaren!rival x mv1 (max and reader had a little friends to enemies action, but they are stuck together now. maybe they will work out their issues...)”

the interview - @pucksandpower

“when you are given an assignment to interview someone, you can’t resist asking your boyfriend to be the subject … it’s just a shame that your professor doesn’t believe the interview actually happened”

christ-max - @harrysfolklore

“you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion”

connection - @katsu28

“when a holiday gala that neither you nor max want to be at brings two people from vastly different worlds together, you find out that you might have more in common with the four time world champion than you think you do”

disturbing the peace - @pucksandpower

“an environmental activist disturbs the carefully constructed peace of max’s life and turns his whole world on its head (or in which environmentalism and being a menace both run in the vettel family)”

series

the yapping hour is upon us - @motorsportbarbie13

“in which max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing”

keep on rolling - @vivwritesfics

“lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? impossible, right? she worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the formulay/n youtube channel”

forbidden - @motorsportbarbie13

“in which you reconnect with an old friend, much to the dismay of your brother”

tamed - @jungwnies

“you're a top pr manager tasked with handling the infamous max verstappen, known for his fiery temper and controversial outbursts”

smau

she’s everything, he’s max - @menagerofmischief

“y/n leclerc starts soft launching a man and soon enough there are paparazzi pictures of the two of them except no one quiet believes that the princess of monaco would settle down with ... max”

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - @fqlling4it

pt 2

friend of a friend - @norrisainz33

“max meets his dream girl through his friends good friend, pato o’ward”

put it all on red (bull) - @astonmartinii

“her brother won the race? does she know? does she care?”

crying in the club - @pomegranatesarchive

“how should one react when their boyfriend wins the world championship at the same time their brother loses it?”

max & the three musketeers series - @verstarppen

“mercedes’ is just a tiny bit worried about your dates with their archnemesis; once mick, lewis and george caught a whiff of your treason, they had to intervene and stop the villain from stealing their princess”

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

[lives-between-lines]

With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean - poly!marauders x slytherin!reader

─

Summary: Preparing for the dreaded OWLs proves to be a difficult task for one tightly-wound Slytherin. How do Remus, James, and Sirius each offer assistance, and how does she handle it?

Notes: No Voldemort, but pureblood elitism is still very much a thing. Story starts at the end of the Marauders and Reader’s fifth year. I don’t know the most about all the Marauders Era headcanons so I kind of did what I wanted, sorry if you don’t like it. 

Tags: Angst, fluff, traumatized Slytherins, pureblood elitism, slightly mean!reader

Words: ~7.8k

p.1 p.2

─

I huffed as I reached for another heavy book on the shelf from one of the dark back corners of the library. I wasn’t in the restricted section just yet, but getting close to it. Between the weight of the other five books stacked in my arm and the height of the shelf I was trying to reach I nearly dropped them all. 

“Careful, there, Princess. Might break something lugging around all those books,” someone said next to me. I nearly jumped as I hadn’t noticed anyone come down this same aisle. 

I shot a glare at him for startling me. It was none other than Remus Lupin, one of those pesky Gryffindors who was constantly fighting me for my space at the top of the class. My glare intensified when I realized who it was.

“Yes, and it would sure be a shame if I managed to drop these on your foot and break something there,” I snarked. 

He looked amused at me. “Whoa, Princess, no need to get feisty with me. I was just going to offer my assistance.”

“And what kind of assistance should I accept from you when you’re just as likely to try and trick me?” Lupin gave me a weary look. Typical of Gryffindors to think everyone is as blindly trusting as them.

“No tricks, Princess, just offering a bit of help,” he said with a shrug.

“Would you stop that? Stop calling me that,” I snapped at him before turning back to the book I needed. Before I could make a second attempt to reach for it, Remus stepped up next to me and I froze. But then he grabbed the book for me and set it on top of my stack then took a step back. 

“Not a fan of your nickname?” He was of course referring to me being known as Slytherin’s Princess. Sometimes I like to pretend the nickname came about because I’m always top of the class, making my house proud, but I know the real reason is because I come from a wealthy, pureblood, Slytherin family and everyone thought me rather spoiled. 

“I am not some simpering girl in need of a man to save her and it’ll do good for the people in this school to remember that.” Despite his significant height, I lifted my chin to Remus Lupin and dared him to say otherwise. 

“Of course, of course,” he agrees, nodding his head and holding up his hands. “But you are Slytherin’s Princess, aren’t you?” His eyes light up in amusement at my frustration. 

My nostrils flare as I hold back my anger. It doesn’t do me any good to blow up at some stupid Gryffindor, not when that is exactly what he wants and I am not in the business of giving Gryffindors what they want.

Instead, I turn to walk away. Take the high-ground as they say. 

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” Remus calls after me, quickly catching up to and following me. “Seriously, dove, I’m sorry. I was only joking. Please, let me help you with whatever on earth you could possibly need all these books for.”

I stop abruptly and turn toward him. “And why should I accept help from someone like you?” I nearly growl at him, barely holding back my frustrations.

Remus looks taken aback by my words. “Someone like me? You mean a half-blood?”

It’s my turn to be startled by him. “I mean a Gryffindor,” I bite out. This was exactly why I couldn’t stand this brutish group, they were always so quick to jump to outrageous assumptions, thinking the worst of someone like me just because I’m in Slytherin.

He looks relieved and confused at the same time, but I don’t really care to help him unpack his complex emotions about the exact reasoning behind why I don’t trust him. 

I dump my books down onto the table I had claimed earlier and began to scour the table of contents in the first one. Uninvited, Remus took the chair next to me and began looking over my shoulder at the book. 

“Can I help you, Lupin? Or are you just interested in being a nuisance?” 

“I’m glad to be a nuisance any day, but as I’ve said before I was actually hoping to help you.”

“And as I’ve said before I’m not looking for any help.” 

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Is that this close to our OWLs you’re scouring books for something that you think you’ve missed, but you’ve been at the top of our classes all year, so I highly doubt you’ve managed to miss anything of real importance.” I give him a confused look, trying to discern how he’s figured me out so easily. Except he’s wrong, of course, I did somehow manage to lose the year a specific herb was realized to have certain medicinal properties. “So now I’m trying to answer the question of what does little miss Slytherin Princess think that she desperately needs to know, and will that really be the determining factor in her score on her OWLs?”

I glance around to make sure no one else is listening to me admitting defeat in front of a Gryffindor. “I don’t have the year we began to use hyssop to treat earaches,” I murmur. 

Remus’s face seems to fall at my admission. “That’s what you’re so concerned about? A minor herb’s medicinal use? Not even that, you already know that, but what year that was discovered? That is such a niche detail, there is absolutely no way Sprout asks us that.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously Sprout’s not going to ask us about that, it’s Binns that I’m worried about,” I explain. Although I really shouldn’t be giving my enemy any help in preparing for our upcoming tests. I was just as desperate to best him on these tests as I’m sure he was me. 

“Binns?” He asks, outraged. “Binns would never ask about that in a million years.”

“You don’t know that, no one knows that. We had a lecture on the history of medicinal herbs, hyssop was one of them.”

“And so you really think that from that one lecture he’s going to ask us when hyssop was discovered to help with earaches?”

“I was reviewing my notes and I had written down the year but it got smudged.”

“You’re actually a raving lunatic,” Remus tells me. He looks around the library like he might get up and leave, but then he turns back to me. “I realize these are the most important tests of the year, but I think you have way overestimated the difficulty of the questions that will be on them.”

“And I think you can never be too safe.”

We hold each other’s gaze for several moments. Remus finally blinks and then sighs. “Confound it all, fine. Hand me one.” He holds his hand out expectantly. 

I stare at him, confused. 

“Well? Are we going to look for this blasted year or not?” I blink out of my stupor and hand him one of the books I had grabbed. 

We sit in silence for a long while, pouring over the texts. The only sound in this part of the library is us turning pages. The first book I look through doesn’t contain my answer, and neither must the book Remus has. Although I am tempted to go back later and double check he didn’t find it and not tell me in an effort to trick me. 

After I get through two more books and Remus goes through three, I can’t stop myself from asking the question that had been nagging in the back of my head the entire time. 

“Why exactly are you helping me? Surely you’d much rather be focused on your own studying.”

Remus slowly pulls his attention away from the book in front of him. He blinks at me and then furrows his brows. “Sorry, I know you said something, I just didn’t quite catch what,” he admits. 

I can’t help the small laugh at his honesty. “Why are you helping me? I thought you’d want to be studying for your OWLs.”

“I am studying for my OWLs,” he replies, tauntingly. I roll my eyes at him. 

“Come on, you know what I meant,” I push. 

He shrugs and I think that’s going to be all the answer I get, then after a pause he says, “you’ve intrigued me. I’m curious now to find out when we started using hyssop for earaches.” There’s something about his tone that’s off, but I mark it down to him just teasing me. “Besides, I’m already plenty prepared to get a perfect score and take my spot at the top of the class.”

I laugh at his taunting. “Clearly not prepared enough if you’re not well versed in the history of hyssop,” I tease back. 

He gives me a winning smile and something in my chest stutters at it. I must just be unsettled by his obviously false flattery. 

“Can I ask you something in return?” He asks after a moment. 

I consider him, then reply, “I don’t promise to answer, but you’re welcome to ask.” 

He smiles again and this time it feels like my heart has been squeezed just a bit. “Well I suppose that’s fair. But are you always so…” he trails off and I get nervous at where he’s going with this. “Well, are you always so intense about knowing every little detail?” He finally finishes. 

It must be relief that floods my veins when he doesn’t ask anything backhanded or rude. I actually give him a smile before glancing down at my lap. 

“I have to be, don’t I? There’s one way to stay where I am and it’s by rigorous study,” I admit. 

“Is it really so important to stay at the top that you have to obsess like this, though?” 

I think back to what happened when I would slack off with my studies at home before coming to Hogwarts. I can’t help the way my face falls at the memories. 

“I suppose it might not be so important to a Gryffindor, but success is a high priority in Slytherin,” I finally respond. It seems when I don’t know how to react I lash out, although Remus is lucky to have caught me in a good mood as I let him off rather easily. 

Nonetheless he still looks a bit dejected by my response. I feel a bit bad for shutting him down when we had been starting to get along rather well. 

“We should probably focus on the matter at hand, though, if we ever want to find our answer before curfew,” I say, returning to the book in front of me. 

“Right…” Remus murmurs. Part of me expects him to leave at that point, after all that’s when everyone else does. He surprises me when he stays and doubles down his efforts. 

I open my mouth, to say what I’m not entirely sure. I close my mouth again when I realize that I want to apologize. There’s no way that Remus wants some half baked apology from me. 

Time passes in silence, the both of us occupied with our search, but my mind keeps wandering to the way I had snapped at Remus. I didn’t understand why he had sat down to help me, but I shouldn’t have antagonized him for asking a simple question. It wasn’t his fault that the answer wasn’t so simple. 

I can’t help stealing glances of him every few minutes, which significantly hinders my speed in reading my book, but Remus doesn't seem to notice and I can’t get myself to stop. This means that I notice almost immediately when Remus freezes suddenly. I try not to react, not wanting to have been caught looking.

“Holy shit!” He nearly shouts, someone nearby shushes him loudly, but he’s too busy jumping out of his seat to mind. “Oh, Merlin’s beard I actually found it!” He whispers loudly this time and pumps his fist. Standing at his height above me while I sit next to him I have to strain my neck to look up at his face, but it’s such a beautiful sight with how excited he is.

“You mean you actually found the year?” I ask, matching his excitement.

He nods enthusiastically at me then points to the line of text that contains the answer we’d spent hours searching for. “Yes, yes, look! It’s right there.”

We celebrate as quietly as we can and I quickly jot down the information into my notes. 

“Oh, thank you, Remus! You’ve just saved me probably three hours.” I stand to join him. It’s then that I finally check the time and realize just how close it is to curfew. “Ah, shit,” I murmur. “We should turn in for the night. I don’t fancy having a run-in with Filch tonight.”

“Let me walk you to your dorm?” Remus offers.

“What? It’s nearly curfew, you’ll risk getting in trouble with Filch. No, I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to my dorms for the night,” I reply firmly. 

“Don’t worry about me, dove, I can handle myself. Let me walk you to your dorm.” This time Remus sounds more like he’s telling me than asking me. Nevertheless I nod in agreement and we make our way to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. 

On the way down, Remus teases me lightly about how obsessed I must be to dedicate so much effort into finding such a small detail. I tease him back about him being a nerd for helping me look for the answer. It’s lighthearted and easy and part of me thinks I could get used to having Remus as a friend. Another part of me questions what it would look like for me to be friends with a Gryffindor and whether my parents would approve or not. Then the first part kicks the second part for being such a self-obsessed ass. 

Just outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room I wave goodbye to Remus and wish him a good night. I try not to blush when he calls me “dove,” and dart into the safety of the common room. 

─

The next few weeks Remus seems to make it a habit of running into me in the library when I would otherwise be alone. In the past I had tried studying with Narcissa or Andromeda but the pair of them had bad habits of wanting to chat while I wanted to actually study, so my time in the library had previously been spent alone. 

Remus was different, though. He understood my desire to focus on the material in front of me and not whether or not his hair was looking frizzier than normal. 

Before I knew it I had come to rather enjoy his company. It felt almost reassuring that there was someone else who was similarly interested in studying, but wanted to do it with me. Somehow it was like studying at the same table as him made studying that much better, even if nothing of substance had changed. 

─

On a Saturday morning, a couple weeks before we were to begin taking our OWLs, I went out to the Black Lake just before the sun rose. I had slept fitfully, getting more and more nervous for the tests ahead of me. There was so much pressure to do good on these, I didn’t know what I would do if I were anything less than perfect. 

I don’t know why exactly I came out here, I just knew that I needed fresh air. Without much else of a plan, I sat down at the trunk of a tree and pulled out my wand. I practiced a couple small charms and transfigurations on the branches and rocks around me. 

“I’d say that rock doesn’t stand a chance against you, but I’d like to know what it did to deserve such treatment in the first place.”

I dropped the spell I had been using to propel the rock in the air and it fell swiftly. There likely wasn’t anyone in the school who I would not have been shocked to see, but I was especially shocked it was none other than James Potter. He’s a fairly popular boy my age in Gryffindor, mostly known for his outspokenness and disruptive behavior. If my memory serves me right, which it always does, he’s actually friends with Remus Lupin.

“What are you doing out here so early?” I can’t help but ask.

“I could ask the same of you,” he points out. I finally take him in at that moment. He’s wearing loose shorts and an old Gryffindor quidditch t-shirt that he’s cut the bottom half off to show off his athletic build. His curly hair is a mess atop his head, but I get the notion it’s always like that. When I meet his eyes I’m struck by how blue they are that I can notice even with him standing several feet in front of me. I can’t help but think to myself how pretty he is. He gives me a dorky smile, as if used to the attention but still not sure how to respond.

“Couldn’t sleep so well. Thought some fresh air would do me some good,” I finally answer, not acknowledging how I’d just been looking at him.

“Some fresh air and tormenting rocks?” He teases.

“Is that all you think we Slytherins do? Torment everything?” I huff. 

His face twists at my response. “No, no that’s not what I meant at all. It was just a joke, most people laugh at them.”

I sigh and lean back against the trunk of the tree. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit on edge,” I admit, though I’m not sure why I feel the urge to open up to this next to perfect stranger.

James takes a few steps closer and I tense up, but he just takes a seat next to me under the tree. “What’s got you so on edge?” 

“Is that another one of your jokes? The OWLs obviously.”

“Oh, right. I suppose those are coming up soon.” He pauses and tears some grass in front of him. “What’re you stressed over those for?” 

My brows pinch together and I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “They’re only the most important tests of the entire school year, of our entire schooling career thus far! These will determine our entire futures.”

It’s James’s turn to look at me like I’m crazy. “They’re just another test, though. And I really don’t see how they’ll determine our entire futures,” he says plainly. 

I scoff and roll my eyes. Leave it to a Gryffindor to blow off something so important. 

“Look, I know you’ve got this whole thing about being perfect in every subject and staying ahead of everyone else, so I’ll make you a deal.” I turn to him, my interest piqued. “If you do any less than perfect on each of your OWLs, I’ll turn all the professor’s hair purple,” he offers.

My jaw drops at his suggestion. “What on earth would that accomplish?”

“Well I figure people won’t be talking about what grade you got on your OWLs if they’re too busy talking about Dumbledore with a lilac beard,” he’s laughing even as he says it. I laugh, too, at that image. 

“Make it bright pink and I’ll help you,” I reply through giggles. 

James gives me his award-winning dorky smile and I can’t tear my eyes away. 

“Seriously, though, I’ll bet you’ve already gotten perfect scores on every other test this year, there can’t be anyone else more prepared than you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, not used to outright compliments that weren’t also an insult. My gaze falls to where James is still fiddling with the grass. “A bit antsy, are you?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, “I’ve been trying to work on that. I actually came out here to go for a run, it helps me burn some of my extra energy before the day so I can focus a bit better.”

I can’t imagine wanting to start the day by burning through energy, I often woke up with barely enough to make it through the day. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to be keeping you. I can go back inside if you want to run by yourself,” I offer and even before I finish talking, I’m pushing to stand up. 

“No, no you’re fine!” He’s quick to reassure me. “Please, stay. Actually if you want you could join me, it might help you clear your mind.”

I consider for a moment before deciding to agree. There couldn’t be much harm in it, it was still at least another hour before most people would get up for the day and I didn’t have anything better to do. 

While we run I can’t help glancing over to James, who’s clearly in his own world.

The sun began to peak over the horizon, slowly illuminating our path. At one point the sun is behind James when I steal another glance at him, and the way the light catches on his features makes him look like a real life angel.

James proves to be right, the run did help me to clear my mind. When we stop back where we had started I’m feeling significantly lighter than before, even if I am breathing significantly heavier. 

“That was… fun,” I am slow to admit. “Thank you, Potter.”

“Anytime, darling.” He gives me another goofy smile. “Feel free to join me whenever you like, I come out at the same time everyday.”

“I just might take you up on that.”

─

I don’t know what makes me do it, but I take James Potter up on his offer every day for a week straight. I quickly come to enjoy the ritual of it, waking up before dawn, sneaking out of my dorm, getting the fresh air and clearing my mind before the day. 

James’s presence was a reassuring one, even if we didn’t always talk much. I had the sense that he would listen to anything I needed to say and offer encouragement. 

As our OWLs loom ever closer I come to rely on our runs to center me in the mornings more and more, but I also question how long James will continue to let me join him. He never says anything to indicate he doesn’t want me to join, though, so I take him at face value and keep meeting him under our tree every morning. 

─

The night before we’re to start our OWLs I find myself unable to sleep for even a minute. Of course this wasn’t a problem for my dorm mates who had fallen asleep at least two hours ago. 

I toss and turn, thinking that maybe if I could just get comfortable I could get to sleep. Of course I have no such luck. Eventually I decide that drastic times call for drastic measures. 

I don’t have to worry about being too quiet as I climb out of my bed, pull on a jumper, and slip on my sneakers. I’ve mastered this routine from sneaking out for my morning runs. 

Two years prior Narcissa was sniffling and sneezing her brains out, but didn’t want to wake Madam Pomfrey for medicine. Andromeda insisted we could take care of her ourselves, she just needed a good, hot cup of tea to clear her system. I never knew where she learned it, but she showed me a way to slip into the kitchens undetected. She then showed me which cabinet to find the herbs in, and also which herbs were the right ones. And then she showed me how to use the kettle. 

It was amazing how much better Narcissa was able to sleep after she finished her cup of tea, and the next day she was right as rain. I quickly became obsessed with the simple magic behind a “good cup of tea” and asked Andromeda to tell me everything she knew about the different recipes and ingredients. When her knowledge proved to be rather limited I went on a rampage in the library until I was satisfied─ a good two weeks later. 

My plan was a simple blend to help me sleep and settle my nerves. Chamomile and cinnamon was sounding particularly tasty, although I was considering whether I might like lavender with rosemary more. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice at first there was already someone else in the kitchens. Thankfully when I did I only jumped a little. 

Confused, I stared at Sirius Black as he took a kettle off one of the stoves. He gave me an amused look in return. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He guessed.

“No, I’m quite afraid not.”

He gave me a sad smile in understanding. “Have a seat, I’ll make you a cup,” he offered. I can’t say why I listened, but I did. Maybe in a moment of weakness before a highly stressful event I didn’t care that I didn’t know him much, I just wanted to let someone take care of me. 

“Any preference on what kind?” He asks.

“Hmm, I was debating between chamomile with cinnamon or lavender with rosemary,” I say. Then, because I can’t help myself, I proceed to list off my many thoughts on the benefits of each ingredient and what might best suit my current situation. 

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice that Sirius has made a decision for me and already started steeping the herbs in the water. I’ve somehow veered off onto what might make a good combination if Sirius was having a headache, or if his headache was caused by a cold and he had other symptoms what could help with that. 

To his credit, he never once interrupts or even looks bored. In fact the entire time he seems to regard me with mild amusement, and I begin to get the impression that everything he encounters in life amuses him. 

I don’t even stop rambling about tea when he sets my cup in front of me. After taking a sip, I start to tell him how very fond I am of lemon balm, then pause when I finally realize the cup of tea is already made. 

For the first time since Sirius asked what kind of tea I wanted, he is finally given a chance to say something. “Are you sure you weren’t meant to be in Ravenclaw?”

I scoff at his suggestion. “Don’t be absurd, Slytherins can be just as studious as Ravenclaws, we just typically hold our cards a little closer to our chest.”

“Right.” He nods. “This was you holding your cards close to your chest?” He then questions.

“Well it’s not like there’s any great secret behind tea. And besides, even if I haven’t been able to sleep I am quite tired.” A yawn escapes me just then to prove my point. “Narcissa always complains about my tendency to ramble when I’m tired.”

“Why would she complain? I found it rather entertaining,” he says, lightheartedly. Even though his tone has a hint of joking to it, I feel like he’s being honest. 

I give him a small smile before taking another sip from my cup. It’s still quite hot, but the flavors are still strong. “Mmm, this is quite delicious,” I compliment. “Is it chamomile with… rosemary?” 

Sirius gives me a proud grin. “Ten points to Slytherin,” he jokes. A smile falls on my face. 

“What have you made for yourself?” I ask, glancing at his cup. 

“Vanilla and rose.” 

“That sounds lovely. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that before.”

“James’s mum makes it for us all the time. Do you want to try a sip?” He offers. I nod quickly and he passes over his cup. Sure enough it’s a delightful mixture. I tell him such and he tells me the measurements so that I can make it for myself. 

“So what’s keeping you up on this otherwise peaceful night?” Sirius asks.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I groan. He looks at me dumbly, confused as to what the obvious answer might be. “We start our OWLs tomorrow,” I scoff. 

“Merlin, you can’t really be this stressed about it.” He sounds disbelieving, though I’m not sure why. 

“I can and I am,” I say, matter-of-factly. He rolls his eyes and turns to begin putting away the tea kettle. “Why are you up, if not because of the OWLs?” I then ask.

“Not for any good reason. Have always had trouble sleeping,” he says, but the tightness in his voice, and the way he tugs at a lock of hair behind his ear tells me there’s something else he doesn’t want to share. I can’t fault him for that, though. “Which of your OWLs do you feel most prepared for?” He asks after a moment of tense silence. 

It throws me off for just a second. Most people want to know which test I’m most nervous for, want to know what area I’m weakest in, where the chip in my armor is so that they might strike there. I consider for a moment, not wanting to say something that I end up bombing. Eventually, I decide on my favorite subject. Sirius seems to accept that answer without pushing any further, so I turn it on him. 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he answers almost immediately. “I want to be an auror,” he brags. 

I roll my eyes at the proud smirk on his face. “Of course you do.”

“Well? What do you want to be?” Sirius asks as if expecting a lame answer such as archivist. 

“My parents want me to be an alchemist,” I reply in what I would guess is a lame answer.

“That’s great for them, what do you want to be, though?” Looking into his eyes at that moment feels as if he’s staring into my soul. 

“I… I don’t know,” I mumble slowly and my brows furrow. I can’t help but look at my cup of tea, half empty at this point. No one had ever asked me what I wanted before, not when it came to something so major. It was always assumed I would follow the path my parents laid for me. 

When I find the courage to look back up to Sirius he has a sympathetic look on his face. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap.

In return, Sirius’s face pinches in anger. “I wasn’t looking at you any type of way,” he defends.

“Yes, you were, you had this look on your face like you were sad for me,” I accuse. “Don’t be sad for me.”

“I’m not sad for you─”

“Good, because you have no reason to be. My life is great and everything is perfectly fine.” The way I say it even Sirius can tell that I’m trying to convince myself more than him at this point. I let out a frustrated sigh. I want to say something about how I’m a great witch and I’m meant to be an alchemist, but another voice in my head whispers to explain how I really feel.

“Look,” I start, then trail off. 

“It’s complicated,” he finishes for me. “I get it. I’m sure you know about my family, you know I get it.” His voice is so soft as he talks to me, as if I’m a frightened animal. But despite my flaws I am still a Slytherin, and I do not appreciate being treated like a frightened animal. 

“Leave it to a Gryffindor to be so self-absorbed they assume everyone knows their tragic tale of woe. Maybe instead of staying up late to make tea and trying to relate to girls you hardly know you should work on your form for your smokescreen spell.” The words spill out of me before I even consider them. I don’t even take the time to be shocked at my outburst. Instead I storm off. 

“Yeah, you’re one to talk about self-absorbed, Princess!” He shouts at my back. I nearly flinch at the nickname, but keep going out of the kitchens and straight back up to my dorm.

─ 

The morning before the first day of our OWLs testing I follow my same routine. I wake up early to run with James, and he tries to ask if I’m feeling alright, but I brush him off and neither of us acknowledges the way I push myself harder on this run than I ever had before. 

After our run, I go back up to my dorm to shower and get ready for the day. My dorm mates still haven’t caught on yet that I’ve started getting up hours earlier. They do ask if I’m feeling flush and press their hands to my forehead, though. I shove them off with a grumbled, “I’m fine,” and shove my things for the day into my bag. 

In the Great Hall I can hardly stomach a plain slice of toast, but I just manage to get it down with some orange juice. I feel a bit queasy, but today is too important to pay that feeling any mind. 

On my way to the first test of the day, I think back to Remus’s reassuring words from our study session the night before. 

“Look, I know trying to reassure you that you’ll do great won’t get through to you, even if I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Remus says softly, almost hesitantly. “Instead I hope you know that it will be okay if you aren’t perfect.” My heart hits my stomach and I drop my quill. I start to shut down, prepare to lash out. Why would he say that? He thinks I won’t be perfect? 

“Maybe other people will have different opinions, but I will still be your friend and I know that everything will turn out okay for you.”

Oh. My heart flutters back to life. We’re friends? 

For once in my life, I do not lash out at someone for trying to get closer to me, for saying something honest that I wasn’t ready to hear. 

I give him a sad smile. “Thanks, Remus.” I pause for a long moment. “I’m glad you’re my friend,” I whisper. Then, because I’m not sure how to proceed after that, I stiffly turn back to my notes. Remus, ever the gentleman, goes back to his book and doesn’t push me any further. 

I don’t think anyone had ever told me before that it was okay to be anything less than perfect, but his words become my mantra for the day. 

“It will be okay if I’m not perfect,” I think to myself as I walk into the classroom. 

I take a seat next to Narcissa. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

The professor instructs us to start. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I read over every question three times. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I double check each of my answers. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I finish the last question. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I walk up to the front of the class and turn in my test. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

As I leave the classroom I’ve almost convinced myself that it will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

My stomach begins to churn and I walk straight to the nearest bathroom, into one of the stalls, and promptly begin to lose my breakfast. I hear the door open behind me when I’ve stopped heaving. 

“Think you’ve found yourself in the wrong bathroom, Princess,” someone says mockingly. Footsteps come closer to me. “Oh shit, are you okay?”

I hadn’t bothered to lock the stall door behind me, so I’m able to turn and see Sirius Black. Again. I give him a horrified look. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing in the girls’ room?” I nearly shout at him.

“Actually you’re the one who’s walked into the boys’ room,” he informs me. I give him a disbelieving look until he shifts and my gaze falls on a line of urinals behind him. My face blushes profusely and I stare at Sirius, mortified. He gives me a pitying look. “It’s okay, pretty girl, you’re clearly not feeling well. Stay there for a moment.”

Still in shock, I stay put. I hear the sink running for a moment, then Sirius comes back with a damp towel. He hands it to me to wipe my face. 

“Thanks,” I murmur. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he replies. With a tender hand, he helps me to my feet when I’m ready. “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey, then.”

“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary. It must’ve just been something I had at breakfast,” I lie. 

Sirius gives me a disbelieving look. “You’ve clearly worried yourself sick and we both know it.”

I don’t reply as I follow him out of the bathroom. My plan was to start going in the direction of the hospital wing, then double back to the library to keep studying. Sirius’s plan was to follow me.

“I’m more than capable of walking myself to the hospital wing,” I say tersely. 

“And I’m more than capable of walking with you. I’m glad we’ve determined our abilities for this excursion.” 

I shoot him a glare that would scare off most other people. Sirius doesn’t even blink at me. My new plan: ignore Sirius as he insists on walking me to see Pomfrey. 

“How did you feel about it?” He asked after a moment. 

I don’t respond. 

“I personally thought some of the questions were a bit repetitive, like I had to explain myself multiple times.” 

I stay strong. 

“But maybe that’s a bad sign that I didn’t do as good as I thought.” 

Just keep staring straight ahead, he has to shut up eventually, I think to myself. 

“On the second question─”

“Would you just shut up already?” I snapped. I was stressed enough over how I did without reliving it with someone I didn’t even like. 

Sirius holds his hands up defensively. “Someone’s cranky,” he says with a laugh.

“I am not cranky, I just don’t particularly care to discuss the test with you.” My eyes roll of their own volition. 

“What should you care to discuss then?” He asks. 

“With you? Not much.” Maybe if I can discourage him enough he’ll grow bored and wander off. 

“It’s a bit of a trek to the hospital wing from here, though, and I’ve found conversation to be a great way to pass time.” Of course, I should know that Gryffindors are not so easily discouraged.

“I’ve found that there’s no reason for you to walk all the way to the hospital wing with me.” 

“Wow, are you like this all the time?” He finally snaps back.

“Like what?” I pretend to be ignorant. 

He scoffs at me. “Rude, Princess. Are you always so rude?”

I flare up at the nickname. The way he says it, it feels like he knows I don’t like it. 

“Nobody asked you to pester me,” I say. 

“Most people would consider this an act of kindness, not pestering.”

“How unfortunate for you that I am not like most people.” 

“It would do you a bit of good to learn something from them, maybe you could start with some manners.”

“I’m perfectly well mannered, thank you very much. You’re the one who didn’t listen when I told you I was fine to walk by myself, and you’re the one working yourself up by staying with me when you could bug off to literally anywhere else.” With that I begin to speed up to leave him behind.

Sirius actually stops for just a moment, as if really considering my words. Then he rushes to catch up to me. “No, I want to know what’s so bloody great about you,” he says. 

I give him a strange look. “I never claimed for anything to be so great about me.”

“Maybe not but you sure act like it, so tell me: what is so bloody great about you? What makes you so special that you think yourself better than everyone else here?”

It’s my turn to stop in my tracks. “Who the hell said I think I’m better than everyone?”

“No one has to say it, Princess.” The way he says Princess feels like venom on his tongue. 

I want to hit him. Punch him in the face and give him a great bloody nose. I want to hex him. Maybe knock him off his feet. I want to scream at him. Scream that I don’t think myself better than everyone, that I’m just an imposter pretending to be perfect all the time. 

It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

Tears start to well in my eyes. I haven’t cried since I was eleven and my family was getting ready to drop me off at Hogwarts for the first time. 

“Do not cry, darling, it’s unbecoming,” my mother says to me. “Soon you will be sorted into Slytherin and prepare to continue your family’s legacy. You must show strength at all times, even if you do not feel it. We can not be perceived as weak.”

A single tear snakes out of the corner of my eye and down the apple of my cheek. I look down and it falls to the ground by my feet. Another tear falls, and before I know it I am fully crying. I start to struggle to breathe. 

When I look back up to Sirius he looks terrified. He must think he’s what’s made me cry. The truth is it’s the last five years that have built up to weigh on me continually. It’s the way my life was gilded and no one had ever cared to look below the surface until a few weeks ago when Remus Lupin offered to help me study. Until James Potter offered to go for a run. Until Sirius Black offered me a cup of tea. 

My quiet tears begin to turn into choked sobbing as I realize how sad my life really was, that these three Gryffindors had shown me a kind of genuine caring that I hadn’t known could exist. 

Hesitantly, Sirius takes my hand to lead me over to a nearby bench so I can sit down and try to collect myself. It takes several minutes for me to control my breathing, and several more for my tears to subside. I finally look down to notice that I’m still holding Sirius’s hand, that I’d actually been holding it quite firmly. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse, as I release his hand from my grasp. “You were right. Everything is so very complicated.”

Sirius gives me that same look he did last night, and I realize. He wasn’t sad for me, he understood me. But how was it fair that he would get to leave, when his brother and I were left behind with our authoritarian families? Selfishly, I think maybe he could show me the way.

I sit there, lost in my thoughts, for a long while. Sirius stays with me. Eventually the bells toll to indicate it was time for lunch. When I glance up at Sirius, he’s already looking at me. 

“Can I make you an offer?” He asks. 

I grow weary at his words. “I would suppose that depends on what the offer is.”

“Well, your eyes are red and swollen and you’ve got mascara tracked down your cheeks,” he starts and I grow horrified as I realize what I must look like. There was no way I could go into the Great Hall looking like the mess I surely am. He lets out a small laugh at my expression. “Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll grab us some lunch from the Great Hall. We can meet in the south courtyard.”

I was amazed that even after I’d been so mean to him, he would still be so kind to me. 

“That would be quite nice actually. Thank you,” I reply softly. 

Sirius gives me a swift nod, then helps me to stand up. We go our separate ways, me to my dorm to wash my face and apply some fresh mascara and concealer, and Sirius to the Great Hall. 

─

I’ve just sat down in a corner of the courtyard for a couple minutes when Sirius shows up. I try not to look too shocked when James and Remus appear with him. Of course, I knew they were all friends, they went galavanting around the entire school proclaiming themselves marauders, but I’d never interacted with all three of them together. 

It suddenly occurs to me that they likely share a dorm, and very well could have planned this all to be some grand prank on me. But they had all seemed so genuinely kind to me until this point, and I was so tired of constantly second guessing everyone’s intentions. I decided that if this were some prank I would let them have their fun at me, then show them the real wrath of Slytherin. 

The three of them quickly set up a small picnic and begin lighthearted conversation. James compliments the way my hair looks today. Sirius teases James for the way his hair looks everyday, although I would argue it flatters him I don’t say that aloud. Remus gives me a knowing look as the two begin bickering. 

Spending time with the three of them is easy, and feels right. Like it was always meant to be the four of us all together. None of them mentions my earlier breakdown, or even anything to do with our tests. I wonder what Sirius told them before they all came out here. Whatever it was, none of them shows me any judgment so I can guess he must have skipped over my rude behavior. 

I’m sad when the bells ring again to signify the end of lunch. We clean up our area of the courtyard, then head back inside. Over the course of my time with the boys I feel my spirits lifted significantly, feeling much better and ready to face the next two weeks of tests. 

It will be okay if I’m not perfect, I think to myself again, and this time I really do believe it. Because even if I’m only just getting to know Remus, James, and Sirius, I know that they are my friends and they’ll be there for me.