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papercorgiworld · 3 months

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No girls, no fights, no smokes

The things Mattheo Riddle does for love

This is like Theo’s ‘Tutoring first years’ a request based on the scenarios from Pansy’s Interrogation.

If you want a little more context, you can read Pansy’s interrogation, but it’s not a must.

No warnings except maybe foul language, but mostly just fluff and a bit of angst.

Picture source: https://pin.it/4r1PsBsvn

Not proofread. Feedback is as always very welcome. Happy readings, my dears!

“Slughorn is too lenient with him, because Riddle suddenly decided to show up to class, he gets an assignment to improve his grade. Ridiculous.” Hermoine says and Ron raises his eyebrows. “Slytherin privileges.” Harry joins his friends in their judging. “Not just that, Slughorn is making the same mistake he made when he trusted his father and told him about the horcruxes instead of sending him straight to Azkaban.” The three of them are startled to hear Mattheo’s voice from behind them. “You want to say that to my face, Potter!” Harry curses himself, he really wasn’t looking for a fight.

The trio turns around to face Mattheo, but they all keep their mouths shut and surprisingly so does Mattheo. The rage in his eyes is undeniable, but he simply walks by giving the trio only a quick death glare. When the trio is sure Mattheo is out of earsight Ron is the first to speak up. “Odd.” Hermoine shakes her head. “Not as much as you would think.” Harry and Ron give their friend a questioning look. “I don’t know why but he’s been on his best behavior for the past weeks. When was the last time he punched or hexed someone?” No one can immediately come up with an answer, proving Hermoine’s point.

***

“Matt, that’s my jacket.” Theo drily states thinking Mattheo mistakenly took his, while Mattheo searches every pocket of Theo’s jacket. “I know, I’m stealing your cigarettes.” Mattheo mutters with clear frustration in his voice. “You lose your own?” Theo asks as he takes his cigarettes off the nightstand to offer one to Mattheo. “No, I quit a month ago, remember.” Theo thinks for a moment, eyebrows knit together. “I honestly thought that was a joke.” Mattheo just flings Theodore an agitated glare. “Look, Matt, you can’t quit smoking, fighting and fucking at the same time.” Mattheo doesn’t say a word and lights the cigarette, just as Enzo enters the room. “No smoking inside!” “Say that one more time and you’ll be the first I punch in two months.” Enzo stops in his tracks at Mattheo’s ice cold voice and looks over at Theo with raised eyebrows.

“So, if I’m correct, no sex or blowjobs for three months, no fights for two months and almost one month of no smoking.” Mattheo lets himself fall on his bed. “Theodore?” Mattheo asks calmly, making both Enzo and Theo hold their breath. “Shut up.” Enzo can’t help but laugh as Theo rolls his eyes. “Pansy and Blaise were right the other day weren’t they? You’re doing this to impress (y/n).” Mattheo forces his eyes shut. He can barely admit it to himself, leave alone to his friends, but it is true. He so desperately needs you to like him. You are always nice to him, but you rarely ever approach him and honestly he can’t blame you.

***

Transfigurations, that’s where Mattheo realized that you weren’t just nice on the eyes. Three months ago Mcgonagoll had assigned everyone new seats and Mattheo had ended up next to you. Suddenly you weren’t just a kind stranger anymore, you became the girl that he can so easily talk to and laugh with.

Mattheo smiles when he sees you’re the first in the classroom. “Eager to score points with professor Mcgonagoll.” You look up and instantly a little blush creeps up your face. “Apparently, I’m not the only one.” Mattheo avoids your eyes, but takes his seat next to you. “I’m not early for Mcgonagoll, trust me princess.” You stare at your book and press your lips into a line in an attempt to not look like a total love struck idiot. Mattheo glances over at you while reaching for his books. When he notices your cheeks redden his heart fills with joy.

A few more students enter the classroom, forcing you both out of your love bubble. You watch him out of the corner of your eyes, while you gather enough courage to talk to him about what you saw yesterday. You lean closer to him so you can talk without being overheard and Mattheo turns towards you. “I’m sorry about what Harry said yesterday. He’s an idiot sometimes.” Mattheo keeps his eyes focussed on you, but it takes all his effort to not get angry again especially now that he knows you heard what Harry said. “I want you to know that despite that they’re my friends, I really don’t think like they do.” You slowly move your hand to lay on top of his arm as a way of showing him you care and aren’t afraid.

Mattheo searches for words, but all his mind can think of is how badly he wants your arms around him and not just your hand on his arm. When he finally opens his mouth Mcgonagoll walks in and you pull your hand back and focus on her. Mattheo adores you quietly before quickly brushing his fingers against yours. You turn to look at him and he leans in. “I know you don’t judge like they do. Maybe you should hang out more with me, could be fun?” His sweet whisper and genuine smile have your cheeks redden again. You smile and nod, thus silently agreeing that you should most definitely hang out more with him.

You spent the afternoon studying with Mattheo and right before dinner you even spent some time with his friends. It made it obvious that there was something blooming between you two and when you finally said your goodbyes you walked away the happiest girl at Hogwarts, unable to hide that happy glow around you.

***

After you spent yesterday afternoon together, Mattheo hadn’t been able to talk to you. It was like your friends were purposely keeping you away from him or maybe you didn’t like spending time with him. Either way Mattheo’s mind was working on every possible worst case scenario. Part of him wanted to stop pursuing you, because getting attached and then losing you would be worse. Maybe that thought is why he couldn’t keep his cool this time. “Everyone knows his dad’s evil and insane, but I mean his mum must’ve been absolutely mental.” Mattheo clenches his jaw but decides to turn around and follow his friends to the great hall. “Why else would the whore fuck someone like Voldemort.” At those words Mattheo snaps, dropping his bag and taking a few long strides to tackle the asshole who was talking. “Didn’t you hear that you need to keep your mouth shut, ‘cause their son is equally insane.” His fist hits the guy right in the face, causing his nose to start bleeding. The second punch doesn’t come in as hard since Blaise already has a hold on Mattheo.

When Blaise puts some distance between Mattheo and the other guy, Mattheo takes a breath and looks away from the douchebag. Mattheo’s heart breaks when his eyes land on your horrified face. No need to worry about losing her anymore. You just lost her, well done. You watch his figure disappear in one of the hallways and make your way to the great hall for lunch. You feel miserable for not being with him. Even worse, you can’t spot him anywhere in the great hall. During transfigurations the chair next to you stays empty and it’s almost impossible for you to pay attention, but you try your best to make notes with the intention of giving them to Mattheo later.

No need to worry about losing her. You’ve already lost her, well done.

***

The knock at the door of Mattheo’s dorm startles him mainly because he doesn’t hang out with the kind of people that knock. I’m either going to punch, smoke or fuck the idiot that’s come to bother me. He opens the door to see your flustered face, making him drop his attitude. “I first thought you were in the infirmary, but I’m glad to see you’re alright.” Mattheo nods still shocked to find you at his door. “You came to check on me?” For a moment you feel a bit like an obsessed person, showing up at his dorm without invitation, but then you remember your notes. “I also brought you these.” Mattheo laughs a moment and you look confused. “That’s sweet, thanks.” You feel awkward, but Mattheo notices. He clears his throat and opens the door a little more. “I’m really grateful for these, I just- my mind wasn’t thinking about class at all.” He signals you to come inside and you carefully take a few steps. “I honestly didn’t expect to ever see you outside of class again.” Mattheo admits, making your eyebrows knit together as you shake your head expressing confusion.

“The fight, earlier, I know you hate it, me.” You take a step towards Mattheo when you sense the vulnerability in his voice. “I don’t like it when you fight, but I do get that some people really deserve to get punched.” Mattheo stares at you trying to figure you out, but failing miserably. “I remember your face from a few months ago when I was fighting, I’ll never forget the disgust in your eyes and today again you looked horrified.” A soft chuckle escapes you as you feel the embarrassment boil up about what you’re going to confess. “I probably made that face, because I hate to see your pretty face all beat up. That’s why I was so relieved that you didn’t get hurt today.” At a terribly slow rate a bright cheeky smile creeps up on Mattheo’s face. You can’t help but feel like you’re dying of embarrassment as his face lights up at your confession. I’m such a love struck loser with my notes and petty excuses. He totally knows I’m in love with him. This is so embarrassing. You get pulled out of your train of thoughts when Mattheo’s hand reaches for the back of your head pulling you into an intense and loving kiss.

When he realises you really like him.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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gildedkrone · 6 months

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KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

Simon “Ghost” Riley sits with his back into the large lounge chair made specifically for his stature and size. The cushion cradles his worn body now christened with more bruises and scars from a recent mission as a lowly sigh slips past chapped lips.

Simon “Ghost” Riley gently spreads his thighs further apart when you come to a stop beside him. Your eyes search for permission and it’s written in his tired eyes to continue. He gets cold feet—so unlike him—when you sink to your knees and rest your hands on his thighs flanking you.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wonders how he has gotten into this situation. A few weeks ago when Soap badgered him about his sex life and preferences. He almost throttled the sergeant when he mentioned you are a good candidate for his giant dick. It’s true that he is well endowed; if the makers had a favourite, he is one of them.

Simon “Ghost” Riley has had his fair share of unpleasant sexual encounters where his partner would balk at the size of his dick. More than once, he feels objectified when his previous partners would reduce him down to nothing but the organ between his legs and on some occasions, they turned him down after seeing it. The resulting shame burns his face and the ensuing cigarette smoke works in a bid to calm his agitated nerves.

Simon “Ghost” Riley knows it’s been close to a month since his last encounter with his right hand under the spray of warm water in his private toilet and bath. His sex drive is a swarm of bees forming a nest in his consciousness and growing louder by the day until his control over his urges are waned sufficiently for them to take over.

Simon “Ghost” Riley nearly balks when you casually mention you are available—he knows you must’ve heard Soap’s talk. He considers turning it down, that is before you suggest something simple. No penetration; just your mouth and his dick. A kiss ending in pleasure and release for him between two men. He’s worked with you before and trusted you with his life on the battlefield.

Simon “Ghost” Riley takes a few weeks to accept and now, you’ve been summoned to his private quarters on the base. It’s sparsely decorated and he goes to unbuckle his belt if your hand hadn’t stopped him. Let me do it, you eyes say and he relinquishes the act. The belt clicks open and the zipper is drawn down before the whole garment is pulled down to his knees.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wears a simple pair of white cotton boxers for the occasion and he stiffens slightly when a hand gently cups his clothed package. When he’s feeling ready, he grunts at the feeling of wet warmth laving up his boxer briefs. He sees your head resting against his thigh and under the single tableside light, it paints your face something orange and warm.

Simon “Ghost” Riley sucks in a deep breath when he is sufficiently chubbed up from the ministrations of your mouth and the garment feels too tight for comfort; the obscene tent is proof enough. Your hands come to grasp the elastic waistband to pull down his boxers and he prepares himself for what always comes next.

“You’re beautiful, Simon.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley feels it’s a joke when his dick is exposed to the air. There’s no feelings of shame or disgust; there’s only a soft wonder in your eyes reserved for him. He grunts a little louder when fingers come to wrap around the shaft. All the time, your eyes remain in contact with his when he melts at the tentative strokes and squeezes of his engorged dick. Asking if he’s ready to continue.

Simon “Ghost” Riley nods and your response is wordless. A few more strokes has him standing proudly erect and a moan escapes without his permission when your mouth descends on his dick. The previous feeling of damp warmth is replaced with the wet, velvety heat gently making its way down from the head to the base of his dick.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wrestles the urge to slam your head into his pelvis to speed up the process. It feels blindingly good and his hand comes nowhere close to what he is feeling. He exhales roughly when you nose brushes against his groin—he dimly registers your lack of a gag reflex. Never before has anyone taken him fully and his dick agrees as well when it throbs with the unsatiated lust pooling in his groin in something shimmery.

Simon “Ghost” Riley moans when your head pulls upwards to stop at the tip and he groans when a tongue slips past delectable lips to lick at his slit. Nothing is overly sexual in nature, and you blow him a penile kiss as a shiver runs up his spine. The sensation of his balls being caressed gently only serves to make him even harder and his hips jump forward as he leans back further into the chair.

Simon “Ghost” Riley feels some sort of way when you take him again, this time, however, not fully with a hand at the base of his dick. His thoughts flee with his rationality when your mouth combines with the pleasurable message of his balls chockful of his month-old cum. He fights demons, fights gods, and himself to not mistreat your mouth as it brings him waves of pleasure in ever greater crests.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t a vocal man, but the ever growing grunts and groans are his way of showing how much he is enjoying this experience. The pace of the intimate act speeds up and his grip on the chair is leaving deep imprints into the material. It feels divine, the way his dick is encased in a cocoon of sinful sensations his hands and previous partners could never deliver.

Simon “Ghost” Riley rests a hand against your face as he feels the knot of pleasure building in his pelvis. Unlike his previous rough and hard experiences, this slowly growing knot ignites something fuzzy in him. It’s edges are soft and he can’t pinpoint exactly how it feels, just that it feels different in the best way possible and leaves him a lustful man seeking more of where it came from.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t used to the sensual and slower pace of sex you are taking him on and he feels his peak arriving far too quickly. He prides himself on having a stamina rivalling bulls and a self-control rigid as iron clasps. Under the assault of your mouth, however, he finds his defences failing him one by one as his body twitches and flexes with the sheer visceral pleasure thrumming through his core. All from that lascivious mouth also producing the obscene noises of the coupling he’s in.

Simon “Ghost” Riley’s lips aren’t his anymore as he bites out praises and words. "Y-yes, fuck, right there, baby" and "Y-yer doin' so, so fuckin' good" are several of your favourites as you work dutifully to bring the man the euphoria he so deserved. A “good f-fuckin’ boy” is motivation to get you to redouble your efforts and work to give him the best blowjob he will ever have in his life.

Simon “Ghost” Riley grits his teeth harshly when you hollow your cheeks to apply maximum contact against the angry and very ready organ in your mouth. The dance of pleasure nears its grand finale and he seeks permission to dirty your mouth. You squeeze his thigh gently with your free hand and he hips surge when the tongue brushes under the frenulum of the already sensitive head jamming into the back of your throat. Everything, from the air to the coarse feeling of the fabric on the seat serves to inflame the sensations he’s experiencing and further edge him.

Simon “Ghost” Riley is a man standing at the precipice of control and mid suck, you feel it; the telltale shudder of his dick and his sudden choked gasp of “close!” ends in a loud grunt when you sink fully down his dick and warmth floods your orifice. His orgasm hits him like a runaway freight train and he just sinks into the chair to ride out the sexual gratification mending into relief and euphoria at the edges of his perception.

Simon “Ghost” Riley gently strokes your hair and temple as he cums hard and unleashes a month’s worth of pent up ball batter into your throat greedily sucking and milking him for all he’s worth. The world narrows down into this instance of time where nothing matters. Nothing but his feelings catching up to blindside him in a mirage where his fingers intertwine with yours and the dam of emotions fully crumble under a release cathartic as divinity is all encompassing; he finds the waves of satiation lapping at his parched lips.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t a religious man by any means; his childhood is proof god has abandoned him. But this, this might have been his reward for overcoming his demons. Written by the deities of the stars and for him. Only him in the intimacy of his home with someone he trusted to experience the nirvana promised to him and every other man.

Simon “Ghost” Riley basks in the afterglow propping up his consciousness as his wrung out body is content to remain where it is while your mouth keeps his spent dick comfortable and warm. No stamina can ever compete with a release as monumental and with the kind of finality that robbed him of strength and left him strutless and fully relaxed.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wants to repay your act with pleasure when he spots the tightness of your combat pants. You shake your head and tell him tonight has been all about him and making him feel as good as he possibly can. He frowns when you insist but drops the topic when he feels warmth envelope his softening dick. There’s no urgency to do anything; he doesn’t feel capable of another round.

Simon “Ghost” Riley cups your cheek with rough, calloused fingers and lifts the balaclava up to his nose. He mouths, thank you.

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist

#fanfic #cod mw2 #male reader #cod x male reader #x male reader #x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #ghost fanfiction #call of duty

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awritesthings1 · 1 month

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Good Taste

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife reader

Summary: You get made fun of for wearing your sapphire necklace to the foundation dinner. Tommy always finds a way to make things better.

Warnings: swearing, implied smut.

ao3 link

“She was making fun of me!”

“Yeah? And when has that ever bothered you before, my darling?”

“Since all the bloody country wives started debating whether my jewelry was in fashion or not, Tommy,” you huffed at your husband, who was having no luck pinching away the creases between his eyebrows.

Tommy sighed deeply, not really bothered to continue the conversation but irked because the wives down the lane had gotten under your skin, and if you were unhappy, then he was unhappy. He fueled his throbbing head with a cigarette, chain-smoking them back-to-back while he hunched over on the settee.

You were sitting at the vanity, fingers tangled hopelessly at the stubborn latch of your necklace that just wouldn’t let, when you saw how Tommy was beginning to fold in on himself. Guilt consumed you immediately. It wasn’t that you actually cared all that much about what people said, but when you were around Tommy, your guard slipped, and all the things that made you tick during the day would come cluttering out of your mouth like an unwanted clash of symbols and noise. Tommy would sit there and listen, hum, nod, and completely detach himself from the world.

You ran each other around like clockwork. He leaned back, you forward. Lust swelled in his eyes, concern in yours, a tug at your hip, and a gasp from your throat. You smiled sympathetically, apologetically. He kept quiet, forgivingly holding your gaze, until a defeated sigh broke the tension, and you both understood how silly the whole ordeal was. Here was Thomas Shelby, a man of great power, slumped against the settee, utterly exhausted.

“Darling, this is fucking Birmingham. Good taste is for people that can’t afford sapphires.”

That brought a smirk to your lips.

“Oh?” You muse, watching him through your vanity mirror.

Tommy huffs, but it’s more out of amusement than agitation. The cigarette between his lips twitches as a smile graces his face. He hums in affirmation.

You give up on trying to unlatch the sapphire necklace around your neck. You’re far too distracted by the way Tommy leans back on the settee like he knows it’s his damn right, spreading his legs, chain-smoking cigarettes, and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling. He’s completely in the wrong if he thinks you are going to keep your hands tangled up in a necklace when they would be much more useful somewhere else…

When your chair screeches against the wood as you push it back to stand, his head snaps to attention. He has a faraway look to his eye, haunted even, but he swallows when you sink to your knees between his legs, and something else begins to swell other than his pupils.

You run your hands up his knees to his thighs and back again.

“I know it’s stupid. They just get under my skin sometimes,” you resign.

He clears his throat and reaches past your head to set his cigarette on the ash tray. He stays there, bent forward, a breath apart, and begins caressing your face with the back of his fingers. A faint smile softens his features and warms his skin.

You laugh because it really is ridiculous. For marrying someone who spends most of their life buried in their head, you sure have picked up on his tendencies.

“Do you think I’m becoming obsessed?”

He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “No.”

You were; he was just treading carefully. Because while he wandered off to speak to god knows who at the foundation dinner, your feathers were being ruffled by stuck-up old women who were too busy being stuck up to notice their husbands’ lingering eyes. However, being able to defend your vanity was another thing compared to dealing with Shelby Company Limited business. And if it came to surviving passive aggressive remarks from old women or being led into another room to talk with Mr. Thomas Shelby, head of the Peaky Blinders, you would sneer rudely at Margaret any day.

You voice the thought at Tommy, “I take it your night wasn’t as successful as mine?”

He exhales and raises his eyebrows playfully, more or less confirming your suspicions.

“And should I ask you about it like a good wife?”

He hums, “no.”

He’s so entranced in running his fingers up and down your jaw, around your chin, and thumbing your lips that you’ll just have to forgive him later.

You pull a face. You’re not mad at him. Far from it. Those fingers of his dancing across your face are your weakness.

“You’re not listening to me.” You lean in closer.

“Yes, I am,” he smiles.

You try to pull back in faux skepticism, but with his hand holding your face so close to his,

“Where are you going, eh?” Tommy leans forward to steal a kiss, and he feels your laughter against his lips, a pleasant sensation.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby,” you jest.

Together, you fall back onto the settee with you astride his lap. Your hair falls over his face like a curtain, keeping him safe from the outside world. He doesn’t want to move; no, he will stay here for the next couple of months, transfixed inside this moment. The gun tucked away in the holster beneath his arm feels less heavy, and the clock ticking above his head slows. He can breathe. He can gingerly stroke your jaw with his thumb in the way you adore. So he does, and the shuttering thoughts that occupy so much of his head stutter in fear because they know they come second to you.

Then there’s that pretty sapphire necklace hanging from your neck. The one that got you both in this position in the first place. Those fucking people, eh? Those fucking people with their fancy palaces and prim and proper manners judging you, his wife, refusing you, his wife? That got him going.

You can tell he is in his head by the way his eyes linger on your sapphire necklace. He looks irked.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

He shakes his head lazily.

“Speak to me, love,” you insist.

Fuck em. Fuck the bastards that made his wife feel unworthy. They wouldn’t know taste if it hit them like a fucking train. He won’t let them bring her down.

Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being in my head, Mrs. Shelby.”

His apology is soothed into your skin with a gentle brush of his thumb at the end of your chin. He tilts it down to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He always knows how to make you smile.

You press more of your weight into him and deepen the kiss, to which he grunts. It stirs a honey warmth in your stomach.

As for Tommy, the need to be closer to you is suffocating; he’d rather just lock you both in this room and throw away the key. He’d rather the stifling walls close in on you both until he can’t even open his lungs, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to be in your skin, in your thoughts, but most importantly, right now, in your underwear.

It’s your goddamn nails clawing at his scalp that do it for him. It winds him up like a fucking pocket watch, boils his blood like good whiskey, and fuels the fires.

He urges your name in warning because he’s so strung up he might just rip the seams of your pretty dress, and you make the mistake of swallowing his plea with a huff and a tangle of tongues.

“The necklace, Thomas,” you gasp.

It would really be a pity if he accidentally broke it in the rush to remove your dress. It slows him down momentarily removing it, and his fingers can’t quite function being away from your skin but he knows ever since he gifted it to you, there’s been nothing you loved more. When the latch finally unclasps, he parts from your lips to gently lower it to the coffee table where it remains unscathed for the rest of the night. The same couldn’t be said about your dress.

Taglist: (i was drunk when I posted this so I forgot to add it lol).

@maliceofwonderland @fairytale07 @goblinjnr @ilovepeoplesdads @multidimensionalslut @blogforficslol @elenavampire21

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greygaunt · 2 months

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How the Slytherin boys would react to jealousy

Theodore Nott

Theo and jealousy? Joined at the hip. When Theo gets jealous, his usually unbothered state turns green and he becomes possessive. Theodore was in the common room with you and the others, you were sat next to him, reading. Adrian Pucey had been giving you the eye for the last half an hour, Theo had clocked. He was not happy. It started as a hand on your thigh. You glanced up, seeing him looking across the room at Adrian. You rolled your eyes at Theo's unnecessary jealousy. It then, progressed. Theo wasn't happy that Adrian hadn't stopped giving you the eye. He was restless, frustrated and started to simmer with anger. He started squeezing your thigh, and you acknowledged him. You knew if you didn't step in, Theodore would end up with a bloody hand and Adrian wouldn't be able to breathe through his nose. “Theo, come for a smoke?" You asked, standing up in front of him and taking his hands. He grunted in reply, standing up and following you, arms around your shoulders. You got outside onto the courtyard when Theo started. “God! He would not take his eyes off you. He's lucky I didn't-" “Theo. I don't care." You interrupted him and silenced him with a kiss, knotting your hands into his hair. You smiled as he groaned into your lips.

Blaise Zabini

Blaise? Jealous? Yes. You were his. He worked hard to actually get you to be his, and he didn't like people treating you like you weren't his. Things escalated at the Slug Club Christmas dinner, you were sat with Blaise enjoying your dessert and having a conversation with Hermione about her parents. You were eating when Cormac McLaggen interrupted you. “You've got some cream on your nose." He smirked as you blushed. Blaise looked up from his glass and gently took your chin in his hand, turning your face so he could remove the cream. He half smiled at you as you melted into his touch. “You're welcome, beautiful." Cormac interjected. You gave him a polite barely a smile. “Oi. Read the room. She's not yours." You watched as Blaise looked over at Cormac. Cormac scoffed in reply and rolled his eyes. You watched as the cogs in Blaise's brain started turning. "Blaise, don't." You whispered. Too late. A profiterole had hit Cormac square in the forehead. You snorted as he ran away, Blaise squeezing your thigh and acting like nothing had happened. Feigned innocence, always.

Draco Malfoy

Draco is a moody kind of jealous. He gets envious. You found it so easy to just float above everything that frustrated him. Everyone admired that about you. Apart from him. He didn't understand how things just didn't bother you. He doesn't get jealous of others, just you. His envy comes from a place of discomfort, he is jealous of the letters you receive from your mum every week, and the smiles you get from all the professors. He wishes he shone like you. You can tell when he is second guessing himself. Instead of getting angry or upset with his frustrations, he pours them all into love for you. You know, without him needing to tell you. You spend time together in the astronomy tower, sharing conversations about your day or the class work you have. He eventually stops talking and you don't ask why, you just let him kiss you. You share a heated, tangled kiss fuelled with emotion, his heart melts and yours swells. As much as he is envious of you being so regulated, he doesn't know that you're envious of his passion, and the way he spits like an agitated flame.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo isn't usually the jealous type. He's secure, confident and knows that you’re infatuated with him, as he is you. Despite this, sometimes he can't help himself. Cormac fucking Mc Laggen had been pining after you for weeks, despite you making it very obvious you were with Enzo. He didn't seem to take the hint. Enzo quietly stewed as he watched McLaggen take another approach, putting a hand on your shoulder and sitting next to you. Enzo began to boil under the surface. He walked over to where you were sat, shooting daggers into the back of Cormac’s head with his eyes. "Is McLaggen bothering you, love?" McLaggen turned to look at Enzo and rolled his eyes. “Seems like you're interrupting, mate." Enzo's eyes narrowed, keeping his cool but you knew steam would be coming from his ears in seconds if Cormac didn't take the hint. “Take a hint, mate." Enzo laced your fingers with his, pulling you to your feet and out of the Great Hall.

Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo enjoys being jealous. I mean, it just gives him an excuse to show off his right hook. People just love to piss him off. What he didn't expect - was you being the jealous one. Slytherin had won a quidditch match that morning, and there was a party going on in the common room. A sea of green bodies all dancing, the music making the walls shake. You were slightly buzzed, dancing with Mattheo. “I'm gonna get some air." You said, motioning to your mouth with your fingers, mimicking a cigarette. You took Theo with you, just to the courtyard and you shared a cigarette. Heading back into the common room, Theo pointed out a girl in the year below trying to give Mattheo a drink, pressing herself to his chest. He looked very disinterested. “Poor girl, what a mistake she's made." Theo muttered as he shook his head and walked away towards Lorenzo, watching you make a beeline for the girl. “Excuse me? Go and slobber somewhere else." Mattheo's eyebrows raised as he watched you shoo away the girl, pride beaming from his eyes. “Damn. You're a bitch when you're buzzed." You looked at him and put your hands on his chest. “No, I'm a bitch when people touch what's mine." He smirked down at you, putting his hands on your hips. “I'm yours, am I?" You rolled your eyes. “Yes, you are." You both shared a drunken kiss, absorbing the atmosphere of the party and being surrounded by your friends. Mattheo's ego was certainly inflated.

#slytherin boys react #slytherin #mattheo riddle #theodore nott #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #Spotify

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neo-percs · 7 months

Text

FACE FUCKING:: ( day 2 )

WARNING:: Face fucking, hair pulling, marking, man handling, smoking (weed), oral fixation.

SUMMARY:: in which you and your smart ass mouth gets you nothing but put in your place.

WORDCOUNT:: 3K

You always run your mouth in the worst moments in time, and if it hadn't been for your loud mouth ex you wouldn't have found yourself like this. It was already past midnight but if it hadn't been for the fact that you had run into him at one of Haechan's parties while you were stumbling out of the packed kitchen while your lungs craved air that hadn't smelled like alcohol, sex, and weed, you wouldn't have been here at all.

You almost cursed at yourself when you had sat down just a few steps on the front porch above a familiar burly figure. When you had perched yourself there you saw the figure turn to you and the burnt orange hue on his skin from the lights had made your heart clench in your chest. Having seen him for the first time in 6 months after your relationship completely blew up in your face, you both exchange casual conversation as if you hadn't last seen each other at your worst.

His eyes sharp and low, glazed over and red as if he had been drinking hard liquor all night. You weren't surprised, you had seen his friends passing around a bottle on the couch deep in the living room corner all on the couch surrounded by many burnt out blunts and cigarettes flicked into vodka bottles and beer cans with barely enough to fill a shot glass. You hadn't caught a glimpse of him until now as you ran with your own crowd around the party talking to who've you grown to know in your towns party environment.

After an exchange of words he could see how tense your shoulders had been as they wrapped around your cold legs, the wind had yet to relent on your bare skin no thanks to your mini skirt. He had eyed your figure once over he meets your gaze. The words "you wanna match?" roll off his tongue like it's nothing. "I can't, my boyfriend and my friends are inside probably looking for me" you answered just as nonchalant as he came off. Only to get a scoff out of his mouth.

"What's a little smoke session here gonna hurt them" he says, but you could only shake your head, just as you stand up finally taking in a deep breath of fresh air around you, you hear the front door open behind you, the bright flickering lights and loud hollering voices spills out past it. Your met with the sight of Yuta, stand with concerned eyes and furrowed brows. "I thought you left without telling me" he walked closer, paying no mind to whoever sat as a bystander on the steps.

You only hum in denial and shake your head "I wouldn't leave without saying bye" you teased only receiving a small grin out of him. The irking voice behind you had reeled you back to earth "she's cool, I was with her. We were gonna match" the voice spoke, you could only let your eyes fall shut as you hoped you would get off scot-free without your ex insisting you stay. "Really, I said I'm good. I just needed fresh air I don't really wanna smoke right now" you turn to him almost rolling your eyes as you see the glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he looks at Yuta with nothing but a low grin.

"She's good" Yuta spoke low yet firmly, you could feel your stomach churn in a way you didn't like, the both of them holding narrow gazes at each other almost agitated by the presence of the other. "Let's just go back in, I wanna chill for a little bit with Jaehyun and Johnny before their out and about trying to get random people to drink bottles with them" you almost smile as you think about your friends habits.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind" the boy behind you spoke up once more making you bite back an irritated groan. Yet once more you hear your boyfriends voice rumble a bit louder this time "she said she's good, so I doubt she'll come looking" he spoke. "This is so stupid" you mumble as you step closer towards Yuta reaching towards you hold your hand out mf or his he grabs it almost tugging you towards him roughly.

"Mhm, right. You look good tonight y/n. I'll see you around yeah?" Your ex says amused at Yuta's tone, you only turn to look over your shoulder just barely paying attention to him you you hum as you pull Yuta along as you tug the door open by the handle re-entering the house that had basically been trashed to the point it barely looked how it did when the party first began.

Almost slamming the front door shut your met with an empty hallway as the party seemed to be mainly in the kitchen and living room. The stairs that faced the doorway with stray people standing there, your poor attempt to pull Yuta along with you back into the living room, your tugs lead you nowhere as he pulls you back. Turning to face him with furrowed brows "what?" You ask your tone filled with attitude that Yuta caught onto quick enough to give you a glare.

"Who was that?" He asks his tone just as stern as before holding the same expression your face held. "Does it matter?" You shake your head. "No. I just want to know, I've never met him before. Is he your friend or something?" He asks pulling you closer. Shaking your head once again rolling your eyes "no, and it doesn't matter who he is because he doesn't matter" you snapped "why are you acting like you can't tell me who he is. It's not like I'm gonna be mad if he's your friend. You know him, so why are you acting like you can't tell me?" He says almost riled up at your words.

"He's not my friend so stop worrying about it" this time you roll your eyes giving Yuta his last straw with your attitude. This time he doesn't tug you a few steps closer, he pulls you chest to chest your face to face with him, his free hand grips your chin between his fingers, the feeling of his warm breath on your skin has shivers sent down your cold skin. "Fix your tone" he spoke grimly as he raised a brow at you hinting you get your act together almost immediately.

You huff as you turn your face away from his narrowed gaze "you first" you snap and almost regret it as it immediately as he tugs your face to turn to him once more "really?" He asks as he looks almost looked like he was fueling at the ears. He was pissed beyond belief. "You wanna show out now?" He asks but you couldn't bring yourself to answer. Letting go of his grip on your face, his grip on your wrist had yet to falter as he drags you up the stairs . Yuta's sense of direction was narrow, the halls are dark yet you've been to enough house parties hosted by your friend to know exactly the location he's dragging you to.

The bathroom. Spacious, the lights are dim in a yellowish color, nobody used it, it was clean the floor not sticky like the one that had been used frequently. "I'm really starting to think you want me to fix that smart ass mouth you got with that attitude you fixed yourself to have" he says slamming the wooden door behind him as he practically shoved you into the bathroom. You can feel slick arousal within you panties begin to sodden the flimsy fabric, fixing your lips to speak once more.

"What attitude?" You ask as the door rattles and the walls shake as the base of rap song plays through the loud speaker downstairs. "So now you don't have an attitude when it's just me and you? Just a minute ago you wanted to show out for your little boyfriend but I don't see him anywhere" he snarked making your head fall back as a groan ripples through your throat. "Why are you so stuck on that? He doesn't matter, like I said I just want to go and have fun" you say your becoming irritated more and more.

"You can go have fun when we're done" he eyes you up. "That why you dressed up all pretty tonight? Got a little attitude to go with it? Hm?" He asks as he nears you with calculated steps. His hands find the loops attached to your skirt pulling you roughly until your hips collide. Gasping as your once again met face to face like you were at the front door. "No" you answer softly "no what? No you didn't get dressed up for your friend? Or no you don't have an attitude?" He eyes your facial expressions "both" you answer shortly.

"No I think you have an attitude, you've been running your mouth a lot since we came in. And I think you want me to fix that" he nods as his eyes flicker between yours holding a strong gaze. Nodding your head, you wanted nothing more than for Yuta to fuck you completely out of your senses you lose your train of thought. He snickers as he watches you look up at him with doe eyes. Humming his hand trails to cup your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip.

'Smart mouth' he'd said it so you couldn't help but wonder exactly what he had in mind. "Fix my smart mouth" you whisper hoping that would make him snap. And surely it did, the harsh pad of his thumb parts your lips you open your mouth wide enough for his finger to rub flatly against your thumb.

Sucking and licking, he pulls back he groans as he watches his finger slips down your tongue and past your bottom lip, settling on your chin leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. Leaning in Yuta presses a harsh kiss to your lips that you return, your teeth clashing against each other, your tongues meeting past your lips entangling, his tongues pushes further past your lips making you suck down and pull back earning a groan as the both of you meet eyes.

Catching his bottom lip between teeth he holds back a moan his hand trails up your jaw to the back of your neck, the feeling of his long fingers trailing up the back of your neck gripping your hair your hand falls back at the tight grip, you moan at pain and pleasure. "You're so quiet now, what happened?" He coos at your almost quivering form as he takes up at the space between the both of you.

Your eyes snapping shut as an attempt to keep your breathing steady, "knees. Right now" he spoke barely above whisper, yet you didn't want to test his patience in the least. Lowering yourself onto the cold and harsh tiled floor, the stinging in your kneecaps subsiding as the grip on your hair seems to get much more tighter than before. Your hand presses against his against the growing bulge in his jeans.

The pressure and friction between his cock and his jeans earns yourself a hiss from between his teeth. Rubbing over him a few times before deciding he was hard enough for you to get rid of all the fabric and anything else between you. Unbuckling his belt almost ripping it out of the loops in his jeans discarding it with a loud clanking sound, your moves not faltering as you tug open the button on his jeans your fingers hook onto the hem of his boxers as pull them down.

"Gonna put that smart mouth of yours to good use?" He asked as his hand yanked on your hair earring a soft wince, you nod looking up at him with evilly innocent eyes. Pulling his pants over his thighs and down to his ankles you could see the precum leaking through his underwear, your index finger rubbing the spot making the man above groan in sensitivity.You palm him one more time before your fingers dig under his waistband and begin pulling it down, seeing what is past his v-line.

You see his hard dick springing past the fabric his tip was blushed and sticky with precum, you could feel yourself salivating at the thought of taking him down your throat. you wet the palm of your hands with your tongue before taking his dick into your fist, slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb. Your other hand resting on his thigh you feel him twitch the squelching sound of your spit and precum rubbing against his dick makes your thighs clench.

Yuta loved the sight of you underneath him with his cock in your mouth. It was nothing more if not the best sight he's seen in all his years of life. The feeling of you rubbing his tip against your tongue having sent a shiver up his thighs you had a pretty firm grip on.

Puckering your lips you press small kisses and his base and up his shaft until you reach his blushed tip, licking a stripe of saliva against his slit had his thighs quiver "fuck" he groaned feeling your lips envelope his tip slowly taking him in your warm mouth,your hand still at his base jerking him off Yuta closes his eyes as his hand pushes your head down furthe.

He's big. thick. and the stretch that comes along with taking him in your mouth is a plaguing reminder. but you don't mind it too much, you like the thought of him when he's all deep in your throat, and you can feel the tip of him hot and heavy in the back of your throat. it makes you gag, and choke, and your eyes get cloudy with tears to the point they spill over, but it's worth it. It's worth it without fail.

you keep your nose pressed into the skin of his pelvis until you physically can't, pulling off of him with a loud pop. your cheek is wet with tears, and your chin is slick with spit, the two coalescing at the tip into a sticky mess.

the sight makes him twitch in your hand, because this is what he's been thinking about all day. this was his selfish wish, to see you below him with this expression. eyes all doe-eyed and desperate.

he can't help but to reach out and rub the callused pad of his thumb over your parting lips, pressing the salty digit flat against your tongue, and retreating it in the same breath to hook it around your cheek.

Flattening your tongue against the underside of his dick you dragged up against the vein running up to the tip— he let out a rich moan that ended with a groan "shit". His head was thrown back and his breathing was labored.

you rubbed your thighs together as warmth between your legs became stronger and stronger. You could, feeling the tip nudge the back of your throat while your nose was nestled tightly against his pubic bone. While your eyes were closed tight to focus on relaxing your gag reflex to not ruin the tight feeling for him. Yuta let his hand guide your head to bob while you hollow your cheeks, Yuta was losing his mind at the feeling.

Breathing through your nose you could barely breath as Yuta bucked his hips into your mouth, losing himself in the feeling of your warm mouth. Spitting on his tip you use your tongue to spread it, earning a moan as his pats become tugs when your lips wrap around his and you push your head down relaxing your throat you feel tears well up in the corner of your eyes.

Pushing your head down further you relax your throat taking him deeper until your nose hits his pelvis. Tears cloud your eyes as you almost gag, pulling your head back just a bit you take a deep breath through your nose and begin to bob your head.

You moan as you feel him buck his hips into your throat. "Feels good," he said as you continued to take him in your mouth slurping and bobbing your head, all without hands you were heaven-sent."Fuck- y/n you're so good, don't fucking stop" he cursed while moaned out, you speed up your pace as his balls were greeted with a squeeze from your hand. He was approaching his orgasm as his hips buck into your throat relentlessly you gag with each thrust. Tears spilled past your lashes and down your saliva-covered cheeks.

The groans made your pussy ache so you clenched your thighs closed. Sounds of groans buzzing in his chest you couldn't help but let out gags and moans at the tall man above you tears pricked your eyes again but you blink them away and continue taking him. He felt so good your warm and wet mouth was doing it but when you hollow your cheeks. Your hand that was at his base continued to move leaving him to buck his hips into your warm and wet cavern.

You gag as he repeatedly lets his tip meet the back of your throat yet you never pull away. "You take it so fucking- good" he slurs feeling himself twitch, your moans muffled sending vibrations to his dick making him shutter. a string of profanities leave his lips. he's close, and you can tell by the way he begins to fuck into your face with unparalleled ferocity. to guide him there, you begin to hollow your cheeks and narrow your throat, using a single hand to massage his balls.

he can feel you start to get antsy, and when you start to scratch and claw at his thighs for air, that does it for him. with a final, lazy thrust, he releases the entirety of his load down your throat, keeping you pressed down on him until he's sure every last drop has been emptied into your mouth.

Pulling your head away Yuta looked down at your kneeling figure seeing your spit mixed with his cum on your cheeks, chin and lips, your breathing was in shambles as you cleared your throat letting your hand touch your jaw that had been aching. Yuta's eyes darken looking at you and wiped away all the fluids on your face. You stand up from the floor feeling the ache in your knees.

"All done with your attitude" he eyes you, seeing your face sport an almost submissive and ready for his next direction, you only nod and hum in satisfaction at forgetting completely what happened before. Reaching out to the back of your neck you stumble forward as he presses a kiss to your lips almost immediately your tongue swirls against his as your holding a tight grip on his shirt you pull away gently hearing a soft 'smack' as your lips part, a string of saliva attached to your lips keeping you connected.

"That's my ex" you say finally giving him the answer he was looking for "and no, I won't be looking for him later"

#𖦹—( neo percs )#nct smut #mark smut #yuta smut #nct 127 smut #johnny smut #taeyong smut #yuta x reader #jaehyun smut

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dearhargrove · 2 years

Text

Seeking comfort

Billy Hargrove x f!reader

summary You're uncomfortable after a few guys catcall you. Seeing Billy still at his car, likely waiting for Max, you go to him for comfort.

a/n based on a dream my best friend (@yourcatsmilk) had! To you, sas; hope you enjoy this ;) <3

warnings sexual harassment

word count little over 2,186

masterlist

navigation

Leaving class you shoulder your backpack and start making your way through the crowded hallways. The last class was over, meaning the majority of the students would be going home now. Every once in a while Billy, your boyfriend, would give you a ride - but only if Max went home herself or visited someone. You've only ridden with him along with her once before and it was extremely awkward.

She didn't want to say anything so she stayed quiet the whole ride, which in turn agitated Billy.

You didn't want to interrupt whatever they had going on - after all you definitely didn't have the right to.

At the entrance stood a group of guys, the cooler crowd. They were all jocks, completely idiotic and blinded by their popularity among the other students. They saw themselves as something better which you found weird, after all the only thing they had was looks (though in your opinion they lacked that, too).

Pulling your skirt down as it had ridden up you quickened your pace - planning on slipping past the boys without disturbance.

But you've always been unlucky, haven't you?

One of them, Tommy, turned to you and with that turned all of the attention from the others to you, too. One of them whistled at you while the others made crude comments about your looks and the shirt that hugged your figure well.

You'd worn this outfit because you knew Billy loved it, otherwise you were pretty insecure about your looks.

"Damn, she's begging for it, isn't she?" Jason snickers and his friends all laugh. Tears well up in your eyes and you grip the straps of your backpack tightly, you hated that you were going to cry so quickly - usually you could hold your emotions really well but today was a bad day anyway.

Not only had you fucked up your math exam but your best friend ditched you for her boyfriend. The only thing you were excited for was seeing Billy after school and seeing him in your shared class. He seemed to be in a bad mood, laying his head on the table the whole class and not looking at you even once. Admittedly, it had hurt you a little and you'd wondered at first whether you had done something or so.

Walking past the boys one of them reached out, slapping your behind. You flinched and practically ran the last few steps out of the doors. When you were outside you quickly wiped your tears and shakily breathed in.

Looking around you see Billy, standing at his car while smoking. Since the beginning of your relationship you'd tried to get him to stop or at least lessen his habit of smoking, and so far it worked pretty well. Around you he usually completely ditched it, so it was clear he hadn't planned on taking you with him today.

You were kind of disappointed - today was that one day you really needed him and yet he's pissed off at whatever.

Someone behind you pushes you, since you were still standing in the middle of the way, and you stumble forward, barely saving yourself from falling onto the hard gravel below.

This is what catches Billy's attention; his eyes flicking up and meeting yours. You were about a hundred percent sure your eyes were still strikingly red from the earlier tears as well as sleep deprivation.

His face softens and he stumps out his cigarette, waving you over. His soft but small smile breaks your refusal to come over and you make your way towards him with quick steps, falling into his arms.

You didn't want to publicly cry but as soon as his scent surrounded you and the comforting warmth you broke down. His arms were wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. "What's up, baby?" His voice is softer than it sounded all day, meaning he'd probably calmed by now.

Shaking your head you reply, "Just wanna go home." Your voice is barely a whisper and your sobs make it crack halfway through your sentence. He rubs a hand up and down your back, "Alright, we can do that. Max can skate home."

At that you shake your head; you wouldn't want that for the girl. It was still a long distance from the school to their house and while she probably preferred making her way home alone, you didn't want anything to happen to her.

"No," you stutter out, "No, we'll wait. I can wait, it's okay." He looks skeptical but nods, sighing a little. "God, what even happened to you, honey?" Ignoring him you decide to tell him later, otherwise he'd probably start a fight as soon as he found out about what happened.

"I'll tell you later." He nods hesitantly and then you feel him look up. You turn around too, when he stiffens and grunts.

Approaching you two is Max, skateboard under her arm. You smile at her, hoping you don't look too disheveled. She sends you a concerned glance, looking at Billy afterward. You shake your head, indicating it wasn't Billy's fault and she nods, slightly relieved.

She would never admit it, but since you came into Billy's life he's gotten a lot calmer. Apart from that she enjoyed your presence, since you didn't pry or interfere with stuff that didn't (and shouldn't) matter to you. So, she liked you a lot and if Billy ended up hurting you, she'd have an honest talk with him.

"You're late again-" Billy started and Max interrupted him, "-I'm skating home. I know." you giggled a little at her attitude and Billy didn't have it in him to retort anything to Max.

He opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to get in, closing the door behind you afterwards. Getting in himself, he started the car, loud punk music immediately invading your ears. Max just sighed annoyed and Billy turned to her for a second, "I'm letting you off at home. I'm staying at (y/n)'s today." Max nodded, acknowledging it without another word. It was usually calmer at home without him anyway.

He laid a hand on your thigh, moving his thumb in soothing motions.

After Max gets out, saying a quick goodbye to you, Billy tells you he'd get a few of his things quickly.

You nod and he leans in, giving you a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving to get his things.

Meanwhile you lean more into the comfortable leather seat and close your eyes, the fatigue taking over you.

When Billy comes back - Duffel bag slung over his shoulder - he sees you sleeping, head resting against the seat in a comfortable way. He smiles a little, if your day was half as bad as he expected, you deserve some rest.

He turns his music off, driving the way in silence. Since it was only spring it got dark early, meaning the sky wasn't as bright anymore and the sun started to set when you arrived at your home.

When he parks his car a bit down the street he turns to you - caressing your cheek with one hand to try and wake you up.

He watches as you whine in your sleep, grabbing his hand and pulling it close. He smiles, endeared, "C'mon, sweetheart. We gotta get going." His voice is soft and soothing, something no one but you would ever get to hear.

You grumble at the disturbance but wake up, looking at him with a glare, "I hate you." He's used to this by now, after sleeping you were usually quite grumpy.

Chuckling he gets out of the car, getting his bag, and opening the door for you, too. You get out and search your pockets for the keys opening the front door for you two. Your parents weren't home as they still worked, so you two were going to be alone for at least the next two hours.

Walking up the stairs you enter your room, falling down on your bed with a sigh. You hear him close the door and drop his bag on the floor before laying down next to you, hovering over you.

"So? You wanna tell me what happened at school today, darling?" you absolutely lived for the pet names he called you, also meaning there was no way of resisting him when he did. You grunt and take his hand to play with his fingers while trying to fight the tears that were already building back up.

"Just… thought you were angry with me." It's not the reason you'd cried but it did contribute to making this day absolutely horrible. He looks a little surprised, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Why?"

You turn your head to him and can't help but coo at the sight. His head was titled, making his hair hang to the side and he had his big puppy eyes that made you melt all the time. Reaching out, you push one of his curls out of his face.

It had taken a long time for him to get this comfortable with you. At first, he was more of an asshole than anything, constantly ditching you or making harsh comments about whatever you did.

That led to a serious talk in which you explained you wouldn't stay with him if he didn't at least try. He was a damaged soul, growing up with only negativity surrounding him and without his mom for support. It was to be expected that after opening up to you he told you he still felt like you could leave him at any point. Constantly reassuring him was a little tiring but for him you would do everything.

He needed some time to think after that, calling you up some days later and apologizing before taking you out on a date.

Since then, he's only gotten better, although there sometimes still were outbursts of anger. So, you could be proud of yourself for helping him become the person he now was.

"I dunno. You ignored me in class, so I just thought-," he grunts, "Oh, you've got it all wrong. I really didn't sleep last night and as soon as I sat down I fell asleep." That made sense, he often had nights in which he couldn't find rest - you've spent enough of those with him to know how exhausting it was.

"Oh," he smiles a little and leans down to press short pecks to your face, making you laugh. "You know I could never be mad at you." You nod with a smile before it gets more quiet again, so you continue with your explanation. Now, this was the part you didn't want to tell him. Don't misunderstand, you trusted and loved him so obviously he's the first person you'd go to with something like this. But he was also the first person who would beat the absolute shit out of Tommy and his friends.

"It's just… Jason and his friends made some… gross comments about me. 'cuz of the skirt, you know?" you mumbled the last part but he heard it anyway. You could see the anger in his eyes, so you were quick to lean on your elbow, one hand on his jaw. "Don't get mad. They're not worth it. If they want to act like a bunch of ten year-olds, let them."

He frowns, "No one's messing with my girl, you know that." When he called you that it always made you swoon. It was still hard to believe but you were his just as he was yours.

"Hm, I know."

He lent in and gave you a slow kiss, your arms winding around his neck. When he pulled away he looked deep in your eyes, making you feel more vulnerable than anything.

"Did they do more?" You hesitated. It would definitely cause a fight if he knew about them actually touching you, but he would find out either way and you didn't want to protect them even more when they deserved a beating. Yes, you contradict yourself with that but going over all they did you changed your mind.

"When I walked past they, uh," he noticed you getting uncomfortable so he brushed his hand through your hair. "Don't stress yourself out about this. You know you're safe with me." You nod and quickly finish, "Slapped my butt?" it sounded questionable as it was awkward to admit.

The second you finished his eyes went dark and he clenched his fist. "Baby, I won't let them get away with this. How could they do that to you? To anyone?" he's angry, so you do the only thing you can think of that would soothe him now.

"Deal with them later. Stay with me now." you tug him on your chest and feel him relax again, exactly what you wanted. He huffs, "Just don't keep me from teaching them a lesson, cuz I will." you laugh at his determination, nodding again. "Yep, and I'll watch." Grinning, he leans in to peck you. He stays the night and it's spent with cuddling and joking around - a perfect safety blanket to forget what had happened.

From then on, he walks with you whenever he can, protecting you from whatever he saw dangerous. It was kind of funny, but a lot more attractive.

All in all, you were happy and safe - what could you want more?

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove

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wuahae · 2 years

Text

✶ seventeen when you take your promise ring off during a fight

ft. performance unit

-> vocal unit | hip hop unit

junhui: he only notices it when you start to walk away. there's a lull in the kitchen, the type of weighted silence that lies thick and suffocating in the air, waiting for someone to make the first move. junhui takes the knife and slices. ("we can talk about it tomorrow," he says.) it gives you both time to be angry about it, sleep it off, then apologize. except, he sees the glint of metal rolling around in your fingers, and your still-empty ring finger when you turn around to leave. junhui has always given you time, given you the space to cool off and talk about it next morning, but he feels if he lets you and the ring go to sleep like that—("your ring," junhui calls quietly, his voice almost fragile with the way he speaks it. he hopes it's just a reminder, not a plea.) the band freezes in your fingers before you silently slip it back on.

soonyoung: he goes quiet. arguments with soonyoung are agitated, barely contained words exchanged like the beginning spark of a lit match; it's never loud, always tense, but soonyoung sees the fidgeting slide of your ring on and off your finger and his match snuffs out. his words trail off into nothing but a wisp of smoke, argument dying with it as he silently walks over to you, a careful yet gentle hand on yours. ("stop." it's the ash that falls from the top of burned incense, the soaking of a matchstick in water.) if you held your breath, you'd notice the slight tremble in his hands before your fingers left your ring and entwined with his instead.

minghao: the second you touch the band on your finger, he stops. ("let's talk about it later," he amends, eyes flickering to your hand before looking up at you as a sort of silent mutual understanding, only to find a hard stubborness in your eyes.) to him, the small gesture is a sign that you need time to cool down, to talk about it civily when the fight isn't so fresh in both your minds; to you, the postponing is something he just says. when is later? when will you talk it over again? when will his words mean something more than just pacifying platitudes? ("no," you declare, firmly planted, metal burning. "we need to talk about this now." you need him to understand this, to understand that it's worth it.) and to him, nothing was worth more than you. so he sits down, and you talk it through, and you apologize.

chan: you see the panic fly through his eyes. the ring has always been a comforting presence to you, grounding you when you need it most. but in the midst of a fight, the metal feels too tight around your finger. you needed to feel the skin beneath it again. chan stops mid-speech the moment he sees you pull it off your finger, alarm in his voice when you move to put it on the table. chan says your name like a fraying thread, as if wide eyes and closing distance were the only things he could do to keep it together, to keep you with him. (he looks between you and the ring, panic barely kept within its confines as chan tries not to spiral. "what...what are you..." is all he can manage to get out, words buzzing as they leave his tongue. you pause, startled, following his shaky gaze to the ring between your fingertips, and you breathe out a single noise. "oh.") you're not, you assure him, metal band warm in your palm. you would never. chan doesn't stop looking at you with trembling eyes until he can slide it on your finger himself.

#seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #svt headcanons #svt reactions #seventeen scenarios #svt senarios #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #jun x reader #junhui x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #chan x reader #lee chan x reader #dino x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst

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smuttyaf · 2 months

Text

The Heist

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

wc: 6.5k | part three of the business

manipulative!h + lil bit of coercion

Tangle limps glisten with sweat as they ruffle against the smooth sheets. The atmosphere carries clouds of smoke floating through in swirls. Harry voice is agitated speaking into the receiver of his phone, flat and commanding whoever is on the other line.

There’s muted noise throughout the room, like the newscaster playing in the distance or the blares of cars on the other side the wall. It emulates the palpable tension from the harsh words that vibrate from below you, the arrangement from whatever affair being planned is escalating his frustration.

The few months with Harry went by in a whirlwind of romance and laughter. Days being filled with luxurious gifts or underneath his graceful touch. Such affirmations of love are simple buds of affection luring in your desire to crave and lust only after Harry. It was relieving reassurance that he saw more than just your work position.

Chanel and Valentino greeting you every other day. Finding yourselves at the Met, eyes roaming amongst the beautiful sculptures bound with years of beauty. Dinner at expensive steakhouses and sipping on overpriced wine to quench your thirst. Nights spent taking you to extraordinary theatres — finding yourself tucked away in the corners or the room listening to the alluring melody that the orchestra plays, while watching ballerinas float along the stage in bliss. It all leads to the escalation of emotions that draw you both closer each night; touch running across skin leaving loving bruises in their wake, lips painting messy sentences against clammy skin. You basked in every moment of it. You’re completely whipped.

It was Thursday night, and instead of being at Jaspers, you called out of work. Preferring to be wrapped in Harry’s arms rather than ones of your clients. It was the decision you’ve been making more recently, taking up your sick days and burrowing them under his touch.

That is why your head is resting on his chest, he’s smokes away on his cigar, fingers lazily running patterns onto his shoulder with the heat he radiates seeping through the pores of your skin.

“I can guarantee the delivery for Saturday. Yeah… make sure Johnny has everything on his end set in place tomorrow,” Harry demands. Voice lace with frustration as he corresponds whatever his plans are.

“That’s not my problem, get one of your men to contacts his. He’s probably out doing god knows what.” The sound of his phone is heard dropping against the night stand.

Your gaze turns away from your moving fingers and to his annoyed expression. There’s smoke swirling in the air when it leaves his mouth, jaw tensing with sight locked on the television ahead that displays the weekly news.

“Are you alright?” You question, brows furrowing as you watch him draw in heavy breaths.

“Work bullshit.” Harry mutters. His hand that once occupied his phone now ventures to glide amongst your bare skin.

Your ears perk up at that. The simple mention makes your stare much more intense as they gaze at him. Harry rarely discusses work, always keeping the conversation to small talk about having an annoying schedule or dreadful co-workers. He never once discuss deeper about his profession, not even telling you his position or salary.

His lies accumulating every time the question found itself mention between the both of you, it only made your heart wrench in doubt.

Dishonesty stretched along for weeks, days, months; diverting attention, timid fingers, and tensing jaw always the sight being displayed. It hurt you. Of course it would. He knows every intricate detail about you, yet you didn’t even peel a sliver of information out of him. No matter how many bombarding questions treaded on he kept the deception going. Nearly three months together, all of your conversations left to the idea of him being a simple business man.

“Oh… tell me baby, what do you do again?” You ask curiously. Puzzled written over your features, as if you don’t already know the truth.

Smoke once again bellows in the space, his eyes going between you and the newscaster. Teeth biting into the flesh of his bottom lip before he’s removing his hand off your waist and going to grab his whisky.

You watch his adam apple lunge while sipping back the liquor. You catch the way his version glazes over in frustration with heavy inhales drawing in to exaggerate his emotions.

“What’s wrong?” You question, now spreading your palm across his skin to sooth him.

He shakes his head lazily, placing his drink back onto the table before his gaze is connecting to yours, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Heart thumps against your chest. Sight scanning over every feature in his face that gives away the impression that he’s concealing what you already know.

“The family business I’m in… it’s dangerous.”

Lashes flutter amongst the hollow of your eyes from the revealing truth. There’s a beat of silence between you. The space filled with hesitant inhales and roaming eyes. “Dangerous how?”

The commercial blaring in the background doesn’t over shadow the loud pounding in your ears. Or the fact that his jaw tenses as it normally does when questioned with the truth. You catch the way his fingers fidget through his curls, nose crinkling with deep sigh escaping. The smell of his cigar shifts through the air dressed in white clouds passing in the tense ambiance.

“My family has ties to people. Some whom you might consider threatening… but it’s not even just those connections, it’s our business. It’s not something you would consider legal… to certain extents.”

And all you can do is blink at him; mouth parted, lashes fluttering and an uneasy feeling overcoming you from his words. You’re not surprised just, flustered. He admitted the truth.

The facts that you already know. It made you starstruck. Not only that he’s confiding this information to you, but that Harry’s dreamy eyes and touch witness and controls things that should compel you to draw away from him and this lifestyle.

“Legal to certain extents?” You reiterate, nails gently scratching his skin as he goes to breathe in tobacco.

“We own restaurants, involve in stupid shit like stocks and sports. It’s nice and all, it’s eh,” Face resembling contemplation as he thinks over their agenda. “They’re good disguises for all our other transactions, the ones, I guess you can say that we do under the table.”

“Under the table?” You point out.

That collects another frustrated sigh to escape him. His eyes shutting momentarily with body ruffling below you.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this.” Green orbs reveal themselves with hesitation written all over his face. “Just think of… I don’t know?” His head swishing from side to side as he ponders.

“The Godfather have you watch it?” You nod you head, blinking up at him while chewing down on your lip. “That’s kinda my life but different.”

“You’re telling me you’re like Don Corleone?”

That makes Harry burst into laughter, the frustrated look that once paints his features turns into one of amusement at your comparison. Skin by his eyes folding over with chest rumbling, you can’t help but break into a smile as well.

“Oh no, not at all,” He chuckles, free hand going to rub down the expanse of your back. “The stuff they do in the movie, it’s quite similar to my life in a way.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment, relaxing into his touch as you twist your gaze up at him. He finally told you the truth; no more careless questions or lying. He really confessed what you already know, all because he trusts you. Or, at least you can’t help but think he does.

“So if you’re not like Don? What do you exactly do?”

Harry inhales his cigar again, sight going between you and the television ahead. Warm fingertips glide down your skin with his heart sounding through his chest. You’re being nosey and you don’t care. You to want to uncover the secrets that he concealed since he first lied.

“I orchestrate deals and plans. The men I always send for you, they’re my team. Anything I say they’ll do.”

That guides memory to the numerous moments were bulky tattoo men help you into trucks, escort you into buildings, greet you by the entrance of his penthouse or hold doors open. Always having vague looks over their faces.

“And Johnny?” Questioning the man that Harry always seems to be annoyed with. The name influences Harry to roll his eyes with irritation. You giggle playfully at the change in mood.

“He’s another Capo, but he’s Lorenzo son, that’s the man above everyone.”

You nod your head acknowledging his words before threaded eyebrows push together in confusion.

“So if Lorenzo is the boss who’s Luciano?” Harry’s face resembles your features being flustered; creases in his forehead perch themselves high as he gives you a stern look.

“Luciano? How do you know about Luciano?”

Fuck. You twist your lips into your mouth and divert your gaze, heat rising in your cheeks with your fingers gently tapping into his skin. You just blew your cover. Of course you would. Being so enthralled in finding out this information, it was just like you to catch yourself in a lie unlike Harry.

“Grace may have told me lil’ bit about you.” You confess, eyes catching with his. His expression relaxes, smug grin crossing his features as he nods his head in understanding.

“I’ll let you get away with the gossip.” Giving you pointed glare. “Luciano is Lorenzo’s great grandfather, he’s why the business is the way it is today.” It’s your turn to dip your head in understanding the family tree.

“But… you knew.” Harry breathes, coasting your frame and studying your appearance; the way your chest raises, fingers twitching every few seconds with expression looking utterly distraught.

He had to give it to you, every time he lied, you knew. The many occurrences when you asked him about work and what he does replays in his mind. Mornings were drowsy voice and sleepy eyes ask where he’s going, or nights when you would knock at his study wondering when he’ll come to bed. All those moments flashing back remembering your doe eyes looking up at him with mystery, so easily concealed.

“Why?” Your gaze roams between the bed frame and his hair falling loosely across his forehead.

Already dishonesty on both parts of this relationship. Both bodies in the room being cornered with the revelation unveiled. Who was even to be more upset? You, who already knew the truth and played along to lies he told you. Or him, deceiving you every chance he got to protect you of the life he lives. In all honesty, you would consider your lie to not be at the same extent of Harry’s. However, you still strung along and kept this false facade up. But so did he.

“Wanted to see if you’ll tell me. If you trust me.” Biting into your bottom lip confessing to him your thoughts on why you didn’t corner him with the truth months ago.

The genuine words have Harry nod his head knowingly. The hand that draws down your skin grips it roughly, breath releasing shallowly to look over your features.

He likes having you all to himself, away from the gore and narcotics he sees on a daily basis. Even moments like this he appreciates the most, you lying on top of him bare with flesh running amongst each other after lips littered those very parts. Harry loves to wake up in the morning on the way to his first meeting to catch a glimpse of you curled in the empty space of him; oversized button down and ruffle hair framing away from the twisted things he sees.

The time he spends with you shelters him from what he grew up around, what he lives with everyday. The way your sight burns holes in his heart because they feel so safe to burrow in. Your touch being a boost of warmth washing over him in comfort. Your presence fulfilling him in the love he’s been strained of. The smell of your perfume; floral and light, relaxing his tense frame after a long day. Harry was completely enthralled in you and the safe haven you bring towards him.

He can’t decipher if he’s mad or not about you gossiping behind his back, already knowing the truth about him. But, he’ll take it for face value. You want his trust, just as he wanted the same from you. So he will no longer play along to the games that hold this palpable air during every conversation about his profession, he knows what needs to be done to fulfil your wish.

“I’m under omertà. I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this baby.” There’s clouds of smoke dancing in the air as he speaks. Pulling away the cuban and looking at you longingly. “But believe me, I trust you. I hope this shows you that I do. I hope everything I do can show you that.” Harry leans down, lips pressing into your forehead to reassure you with his touch.

“How about this love,” His hands halting on the wings of your back and looking at you mischievously.

“Why don’t you spend tomorrow with me. I’ll show you the ropes.”

October in New York is bustling wind with dark clouds. The highlight of mustard cabs illuminates the streets brimming with sedans and vans all on their own journey. The usual horns blare and people walking amongst the crowded streets fills your ears as you strut along the road.

The breeze pasts you with fury, the fall weather in full effect with orange and brown leaves scattered amongst the side walk. Heeled boots echoing in determination as Harry’s entourage holds the door open for you every step of the way.

Jet black fur lined coat protects your body from the breeze passing through. With each stride your thighs brush together confined in lace pantyhose, your tight pencil skirt adoring your hips shields the wind gracing your waist.

“Thank you.” Bowing your head to the man with intricate script going down the sides of his face.

Stepping into the restaurant you smell beautiful aromas of spices with light chatter in the air. The establishment was large with oak tables filling the floor. The atmosphere is a subtle dark aesthetic. Compelling artwork adoring the walls as the vast windows display the energy outside in its dim sphere. There’s customers conversing, wine glasses clashing together, and servers resting plates down presenting them to the guests.

As your eyes rake through the crowd and the many dishes that have your mouth watering, your eyes catch on Harry. Resting along the wall in the back of the room, his gaze connecting with yours as his men delivers you in his direction.

Once stepping into his proximity rough hands linger between the open space of your jacket, drawing you into him gracing your nose with the scent of his signature cologne. His palm messages the skin of your hips, guiding you past the double doors of the restaurant and directing you to his office. Long drawn out steps sounding throughout the hallway till he’s retrieving the door open. His guards standing outside as he ushers you in.

So this is where he would spend his time when he’s not laying by your side in the morning. Intricately craved mahogany desk set in the back of the room. Chairs made out of the same material sat themselves in the middle of the area with books and paintings roaming amongst the spaces without windows.

Finding interest in the colour hard copies you trail away from Harry’s side. Your view roams amongst the papers filled with knowledge printed in charcoal ink. Eyes searching the many different authors while the heavy pads of his feet strides over to his liquor cabinet in the corner of the room. Glass clinking together as he pours himself his usual order.

“Did you want anything? Wine, food?” He retrieves towards his desk, pulling his chair out, at the same time you’re running your finger over a book, head twisting towards him and smiling.

“No darling.”

Harry was wearing his usual suit, curls tousled along his forehead with his lips covering around the rim and sipping the amber liquor.

You began stepping towards him, hands peeling your coat off and placing it on the chair parallel to his desk. The sound of your heels add eerie tension in the atmosphere as you’re making your way over to him. Fingers running over the smooth material on his shoulders looking down.

“Sit.” He gestures, foot pushing his chair out even more to make space for you on his lap. You smirk, twisting around and settling yourself on his thighs.

His warmth washes over you, hands going around your hips as he leans in, lips pressing against the side of your neck making you smile bashfully.

“Did you read all these books?” Suggestive tone with the playful pinch of your fingers has Harry landing another peck on your shoulder.

“Will it impress you if I say yes?” Breathless laugh escapes you, turning towards him to kiss.

Bourbon drapes itself along your tastebuds as he sinks into you. Muscles settle into his scent drifting from his button down onto your sheer long sleeve. Your presence also sends a wave relief through Harry, relaxing him as well.

The fragrance adorning your own body that swishes in the strands of your hair, comforts his nerves leaving him to soften against your touch, humming into the light pecks that you litter amongst each other.

Furious heavy knocks erupt the moment. The scene that was once brewing in the sparking affection between you both has Harry pulling away, head running down your arm in comfort before he’s answering whoever is behind the door. It creaks open, bulky man in black attire standing with harsh expression, completely ignoring your place on his lap.

“Final call. Everything is in place sir.” It makes Harry nod his head in acknowledgment, raising his glass toward him.

“Alright.” The door echos close, the click retrieving your attention towards him with brows raised. He sips back his whisky, eyes closing momentarily before he’s placing it on the desk.

His fingers peel open his laptop, typing in his password and pulling up surveillance footage, puzzled expression expanding deeper with hands pressing into his thighs rotating your position.

“What’s this?”

Clear footage points towards buildings with numerous civilians roaming amongst the walkways, there’s an armoured truck park in front of one establishment, a man rolling in heavy coal bags; while on the other half of the screen displays footage inside a bank. People standing in line waiting for tellers, with some sitting in crowds talking as if in a meeting. Your heart pounds in your ear… it’s clear what’s about to happen as your gaze adjust to the screen.

“Adam Brewcheski, Wells Fargo courier. Fifty years old, 5’10, and weighs two hundred and twenty pounds. He picks up every Wednesday and Friday at exactly 6:15pm.“

Harry draws back from the machine, hands running down the desk to drag along your thighs — his mind diverts back to his original plan. Nails catching in the lace on your skin, breath heavy along the nape of your neck with his intense aura captivating your senses. You shouldn’t be feeling aroused right now, but with his fingers roaming higher and higher, bunching up your skirt as he gropes over your clothed skin, it was luring you into his calculating actions.

A shudder runs through you, digits curling into his tailored suit, just as your gaze catches onto two black vans peeling onto the street with swiftness.

Bodies dressed in all black exit out of the vehicles with distorted masks in long veils. Your eyes squint, leaning forward as they rush into the building, sight flickering to the other surveillance camera of one man hitting the courier in the back of his head with a rifle. Men storming in pointing guns in the directions of people, jumping behind the counter tops and collecting the staff members to all gather amongst the floor.

“Harry…” His roaming hands still venturing deeper down your hips and feeling over your panties. A heavy sigh draws from your chest at the feeling of his fingers gliding up your folds. “This isn’t right.” Wet kisses seep onto your skin, his chest warm as you continue to relax into his touch. Digits still dragging down your pussy agonizingly slow.

“But doesn’t it feel so good?”

There’s thunder in your chest with the vintage film displaying innocent people arranged on the floor with weapons pointed to their heads. Studious men roam amongst the room, some ushering bank tellers for more money while others guard the door for any law enforcement.

But even with all this taking place before you, there’s wetness brewing between your legs. Whimper slipping out of your lips as you find yourself runting into his hand.

“I can’t… watch this,” Voice rush and strain as you turn your head into his face. Harry’s sight is already locked on you, malicious eyes taunting and thrilled at your appearance.

“You have to baby. Do it for me.” One hand leaving your thigh, gripping your cheeks to direct your attention back to the screen. “If you want to be with me, you have to baby.”

Your gaze flickers, sight going back to the men walking through the room with vengeance, completely emptying the vault with numerous bags being shuffled throughout the bank.

“H —How do you get away with this?” You utter, mind telling you to fight his torment but heart falling into those very tanitiazling ways.

“Anything can be bought, no matter the price.” Hand running down your neck agonizingly slow, the other presses into your clit roughly. His manipulating motions only affects your pulsating nerves and weary thoughts.

The grip on your throat tightens to keep your view ahead. The scene now beholds the men all emptying out of the bank in a rush. Muffled and distress victims lie helplessly on the ground as one guard peers over everyone before following the many. They trail back into the vehicles now arranged at the side of the building. Escalating trucks dash through out the tight knit streets with speed making haste to the previous events.

“But Harry…” Voice trailing as you see occupants now gather off the floor and start alerting the authorities.

“This is what you want, the truth. So there it is. Are you satisfied?” Condescending tone rushes over you. Almond nails curl into his slacks, head turning in fury causing his grip to fall.

“It’s wrong.”

“It’s why you’re with me.”

His words hang in the air, dizzy connection halting the once passionate atmosphere. Those words with his ominous expression has your heart sinking and mouth run dry. The stare down is intense, the haunting sentence settling truthful tension in the air that once held heated pleasantries.

“If you’re going to be with me you must know there are circumstances you have to accept no matter your personal beliefs. I need a woman who understands that things like this are gonna happen, are you gonna be her or not?”

Forest eyes examine your emotions crossing its way over your features; fluttering lashes, lips pierced together as pink blossoms amongst your cheeks.

It strung a cord in you — once again the craving to want to be his wholeheartedly, his ideal woman. Those thoughts constantly wander your everyday occurrences whenever with him. All the memorable events of the relationship already being so profound and nearly straight out of a fairytale. You know you want Harry, quite frankly you know he was the one for you, he’s a man that you simply cannot pass up.

“Okay.”

That makes him smirk, happy glint in his eye as he leans his head in, lips pressing into your timid ones. His hands find themselves back on your skin, trailing their way to the very spot that craves him through the evident tension.

“Always so good for me. My perfect girl.” Harry breathes into the kiss, fingers twisting your thighs in his hold. They roam deeper between your legs as he captures your lips back in his.

Heart swells with admiration, nails relaxing their tight hold and finding themselves venturing to his curls. This situation is alarming, it should have you distressed and rattled but instead you’re yearning for his touch, flexing your hips against his torturous movements.

The roar of your pantyhose ripping tears through the room, hungry fingers no longer continuing their teasing motions but now running along the heated folds of your pussy.

Harry grip draws circles along your clit, toying joyfully with your fluid coating it in all its moisture. This is wrong, on so many levels, but god does it feel so good.

His lips capture your moans falling into the space, mouth sinking onto yours and nibbling on the red flesh. Intriguing hands continuing their enticing motions, fingers diving between your folds and sinking deeper into your pulsh walls.

“Baby,” You moan, the hold you have in his hair tightening as he continues to press kisses into your heated skin.

Harry is addicting; broad, rough hands roaming over you, his aroma letting your senses fall into his touch. No matter what he does, it had you drawing towards him so easily with no regard, no restraints, just simply submitting to him completely.

“That’s right…” Fingers rocking into your pussy sensually, hot breath roaming down your neck assaulting the skin there. “Be my perfect girl.”

A whimper draws out, nails scratching his scalp with waist rocking against his provoking touch. You’re loving the attention with the electrifying intensity of his hands thrusting into your tight heat. It has you desperate for more. Your legs slip lower amongst his thighs, only carrying your skirt higher up on your hips.

Harry’s lips descend down in fury sucking bruises onto the hot skin. His body drinking in your slacked demeanour, with arms flexing between your dripping nectar as you cry out.

He relishes in the rattle waver of your tone, eyes drifting open every few minutes subsiding to the pleasure he pours into you. He adores the tremble that resonates with each whimper, arousal trickling down the length of his fingers with each jolt of his wrist.

“All this for me baby?” Curving his digits to the depths that he always reaches.

Shivers pulse throughout your body, another coat of fluid expels from your pussy at his words. The presence of him has your head lowering and slipping your lips back onto his. Pleased moan escaping once they meet with tongues swirling amongst each other in harmony at the exchange.

The room dances with starving vulnerability dwelling between you both; rush hands and raged breaths swirling in the air. Circling waist meets every rolling thrust of his fingers, stream of arousal coating his urgent speed sliding down your walls passionately.

“I want more,” You whine against his bruised flesh. Back curling against his posture riding him.

“Mhm… that’s what you want?” Teasing tone running along your cheeks.

“Yes… please,” Sliding deeper into his palm with nails gliding down his shoulders in anticipation.

His furious thrust pace themselves, slick fingers drawing out of your pussy and sliding along your clit spreading your lips wide with your nectar. Your body goes lucid, thighs contracting from his hands leaving their position.

Torn pantyhose clings tight against your sweaty flesh as Harry picks you up with ease, his hands gripping your thighs roughly placing you on the desk.

The clatter of the laptop rings through the warm atmosphere. It doesn’t make him hesitate for his attention to push every miscellaneous object off his desk while your hands venture to undo the belt of his trousers.

“Been wanting to fuck you on this desk.” Every touch that roamed amongst each other is rushed tugs of clothing shredding off, wet kisses dipping along the once covered limbs.

“Yeah, how about the one at home?” Taunting voice recalling the study in his penthouse that you’ve walked in numerous of times.

“Gonna fuck you there too,” Your fingers curl around the crown of his cock spreading his pre-cum as you slide him through your palm.

The motions draw heavy sighs out of Harry’s chest. Hot breath running against your skin as he lies in the nape of your neck. Hands gripping you roughly and bringing you towards his hips.

“Gonna fuck you every where,” Nails caving deeper as he begins to rock into your hand. “Paris.” Fingers carrying his cock towards your arching pussy. “Spain.” The head of him running between your folds lazily. “Morocco.” High pitch whine leaving your throat as he breaches your entrance.

“Anywhere baby, just tell me.” Harry pulls his head away from your throat gazing into your dilated eyes. “Fuck you anywhere you want.”

God he’s so sexy. So handsome, and the words that fall from his lips leave you on an intense high. Wide torso with broad shoulders dancing with intricate tattoos, flexing his body under the golden hue illuminating the room, only adding to the intoxicating arousal pulsing in your clit.

“Stretch your pussy nice and wide for me.” Your grip tightens in paste when drawing him down the expanse of your pussy, palm letting him sink between your folds.

“Yeah that’s it.” Heavy weight of him fills your tight walls. Smooth glide of his hips coating his cock in arousal. “Just like that.”

Blissful gasp travels through the space between your lips, hungry touch pulling him into your body, drinking in every stimulating draw of his hips easing into your pussy.

Harry needs you to feel every inch of him; he wants to program it in your mind how he spreads you out and leaves you crying for more.

In the dim light, every move is rough grabs across slippery bodies. The heat in the room is mixture of submissive energy and manipulating tactics. Harry knew what he was doing letting his hands pleasure every part of you while watching innocent people be taken advantage of. It turns him on watching your face decipher whether you should belong in his life.

He consumes the seductive vocals of your love trailing along his lips. Hips beginning to find rhythm in his thrusts. Every jolt of his cock into your pussy drags along your cervix in aggressive beats. It has your nails twitching against his curls, the grip he has over your waist restrains any efforts as he fucks you into the desk.

The table creaks with every stroke of his hips. Utensils that litter the desk ring into the harmony of Harry pounding away. Impatient fingers roaming with pleasurable moans escaping.

Your pussy pulsates with each thrust, quivering vibrations shocking you with each torturous movement. It never helped that Harry was dangerously handsome but also knows how to fuck. Low grunts and piercing jabs adding to the charisma of him at his most vulnerable.

But even in that state he’s conscious. Alert and precise vision looking over you coming undone around him. Harry watches over every twitch of your lips, strands of hair sticking to your temples and pink hues of passion roaming amongst your breasts. He grows aroused with the trance he has over you, knows that just at the call of your name you’re ready for him. That you’ll say yes no matter what.

“My perfect, perfect girl.” Breath expanding over your skin as he continues his rough strikes.

The praise allows an array of butterflies to spread in your stomach. It quivers in anticipation at the tiny pinches stinging down your spine. It’s the foreshadow of your climax on the brink.

The draw of your hands venture down his throat and scratch the skin, broken moan trailing out with each frantic buck of his hips.

“M’gonna… cum,” Lashes flutter up at him as he looks down on you deviously, loving the expression transforming over your face.

“Mhmm,” Harry hums, one hand leaving from your hips and towards your bundles of nerves, fingers toying with the ball resulting in you curling into his chest.

“I love your pussy. Love the way you feel darling,” Words instigating the tremors running throughout your body.

“Harry,” Filthy call of his name falls from your mouth with each recoil of his hips.

“Cum baby, cum on my cock.” Husky breath spreading over your lips making you submit to his words.

The stimulating sensation of your climax leaves you lightheaded. Head craning back, eyes squeezing shut with waist stuttering against his movements. It showers all through you, furious needy appetite being filled by Harry as he fucks you through your high.

Tormenting hips continue barreling down your walls quivering in satisfaction. Your body goes limp, vision slowly cracking open with hesitating inhales drawing in. The fierce thrusts has your pussy grow sensitive beginning to shudder away from his touch.

“That’s it baby,” Harry mutters, hips rolling forward tenderly. Your nails run down his shoulders shaking in adrenaline. “So pretty… just for me.”

Moan trembles from your throat, head shifting to press light kisses into the marks you created. Tiny bubbles of blood streaks down the sides of his neck as you can’t help the shake of relief that surges through you.

“C’mere.” Harry states, his cock slipping out as his grip goes to your arms beckoning you off the desk.

Numb legs finds the ounce of strength you emit to fall to your knees. His thickness glistening in your fluids as you don’t waste time to take him into your mouth. The warmth you radiate releases pleasurable grunts from Harry in response to your twisting tongue.

It roams down the underside of his shaft, licking all over the intense veins with dreamy eyes looking at him. He watches over you, fingers carding through your hair as his bottom lip sucks itself between his teeth. Sight lost on the way you pleasure him with your slick muscle.

“Yeah clean me up.” Chest heaving with each inhale. His hands follow the motions sucking his length into your mouth. Your throat welcomes him with each rock, spit mixing with your nectar that burns on your tongue.

“Good girl.” Harry condemns. Watching closely to the way you suckle on the crown of his cock.

Your fingers pull away from your thighs beginning to stroke him with rushed lips, they trace all along the expense of him sucking every crevice that your slick seeped into.

With each descend it’s electing moans of delight from you at the heaviness of Harry dragging through your throat. The familiar stretch of him spreading your mouth adds to the brewing addiction you have for Harry.

“Up. Come here.” He’s manhandling you again, his grip falling to your neck as he tugging you up and spinning you around. Chest pressing into the desk as his hand goes to raise your knees up, having your backside sit against his hips as he begins to rub himself against you.

You can’t even catch your breath as he already positions himself and thrusts in. Sore walls expanding as he slips back in, cock filling you up once again and driving back into your heat in determination.

Harry’s hips are practically bouncing off you. One hand roaming up your thigh and gripping onto your hip as the other latches into the nape of your neck, turning your head to look over your expression.

It’s the same breathless look of being embraced with his pleasing thrusts. Lengthy cock stroking your pussy roughly has his balls rock against your clit. The switch of positions is hitting the pulsating cushions of your pussy, the feeling caters to every nerve devouring in the pleasure.

“F —Fuck me s’good,” You mumble completely drunk off him fucking you so roughly. Vision blurs with tears of arousal as your nails curl against the wood of the table.

“I know baby, I know…” Drifting down your walls in urgency.

The air is thick in greed with hips meeting each other craving another sweet release, moans and groans share in the space as hungry eyes stare at each other in complete submission to the others desires. Spread across his desk making mess of yourselves in the inky ambiance of the room. It reveals the sheet of sweat coating feverish skin. Harry can’t get enough of the obedience you behold, the fact you’re looking back at him in virtue makes his hips drill against your cheeks.

The attraction that draws you two together is apparent with the sight of your gaze locked on each other. It shines in the way your plump lips hang open in change of his thrust. And it displays itself further when Harry shoves you deeper into the desk as if wanting to break you in half. The movement is causing your eyes to gloss over with cheeks shoving into the table.

“Take it like the good girl you are.” Drumming his hips to the point the desk is dragging along the floor, shuffling into the of middle the room.

“Harry,” You cry, breast jerking with every thrust of him.

Pins and needles tingle the underside of your foot. Toes curling against the wooden floor as the burning rush of your climax makes itself known when flowing through you. Your throat goes strain with mouth dropping open not even able to vocalize the emotions overcoming you.

“Aren’t you such a good girl,” The hold he hands on your neck releases as he wipes the strands of hair clinging to your face. “Look at you.”

Voice completely filled in admiration as he stares at you. His eyes dark yet comforting as he seeps into your pussy. Harry drinks in the shutter of your eyes, gaze disconnected as chest strains for air.

He feels the quiver that courses down the expanse of him. Creaminess wraps around the thickness of him in a blanket of squirms. It has Harry cursing. Creases of skin fold in the middle of his eyebrows with teeth grinding against each other. It makes his hips draw to a sensual pace.

The added slick causes him to bow his eyes slowly. The combination of your tight walls and stuttering body of yourself contracting around him results in his seed spilling. Warmth of his cum absorbing into your plush walls as he continues to rock into you.

“So good for me.” Harry cranes down peppering kisses along your shoulder. Pulsing cock rolling into your pussy slowly as he catches his breath. “Always so good.”

Your eyes flutter open, vision clearing yet mind still in the clouds over the second climax. Your body is slack against the desk. Your hips and knee now bruised to the grip Harry had over you, however it’s not something you mind, especially with the way he’s drawing you back in from the sub space you’re in.

His dick trails out of your walls letting his seed spill out. It’s running along your lips and spilling droplets onto the desk.

Harry feels over your limps, nails drawing against flesh of your ass drinking in the pleasure that courses through him.

“Oh baby. You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #smuttyaf #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fandom #harry styles fic #harry styles fic rec #mafia!harry #manipulative!harry #harry styles one shots #honestly i’m gonna edit this later #i hope y’all like the third part :))

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moongreenlight · 2 months

Note

Need more secret wife please 😭😭🙏🙏🙏

WIP Wednesday? WIP Wednesday.

Secret Wife p3 SMALL UPDATE that I have been hoarding like a dragon with treasure lol (I am riddled with guilt)

It takes Johnny upwards of two hours sat alone in his car in silence to fully process what just happened. He’d tried to ask a thousand follow up questions in some rapid-fire babble, but he was met with a wall of stony silence. Goes on stupidly for well over two minutes until Ghost knocks him with a cupped palm on his temple. Little rougher than could be considered friendly, but nowhere near harmful. Served to bring him back to earth.

“Take a breath, sergeant.”

The low rumble of Simon’s voice barely rises over the dull roar of the cars around them.

“Fuck off.”

Johnny looks less gobsmacked than he feels.

“Mind your manners.”

A bite. He must’ve quit smoking around you for the time being. Made him more waspish than usual.

“Cannae believe you, bastard. Kept a secret tha’ big from us all this time?”

Simon took a labored breath in. A sigh like the stiffness of his muscles was creating a vice around his lungs. He threw a sideways glance back toward your car a few aisles over. Like he was making sure you were still there and situated. Pursed his lips and rubbed the bridge of his nose while saying something about how Soap was to under no circumstance take you up on the dinner offer. Turned on his heel and made his way back over to you without a goodbye.

Johnny had half a mind to disobey out of sheer bull-headedness but decided against it just before he sent you a message on his last day of leave. Deleted the text he’d drafted and resigned to trying to press Simon more about things when they got back on base.

He tried, persistent bugger that he is, to pester his L.T. to give up more information. When the two of you’d gotten married. Why he hadn’t said anything. Why wasn’t he invited to the wedding? Was there a wedding? Does anyone else know? All fruitless. Snubbed each time.

He would have been offended if he hadn’t come to know Ghost so well over the years. He’s cagey at his warmest, so it’s no real surprise that he’s kept this under lock and key. The real shock came from the understanding that it happened at all in the first place. Johnny had a hard time wrapping his mind around someone as kind and welcoming as you somehow getting tangled with someone as stoic and brutish as Ghost. He tried to conjure up infinitely many situations where the two of you met and the coupling made sense, but he never stumbled on one that felt right.

Your went into labor over a month early. Just a few weeks after the boys had returned to base. Four hours before the boys were due to board a flight that would deploy them for three weeks. It was the only time Simon had ever been late to call. Johnny was sent to go track him down by an extraordinarily eggy Price.

He found him ready to leave, rifle slung over his back like a soldier. Pacing the hall outside your room in the bay. Down a short corridor in the back that usually hosted surgeries. He was whale-eyed and hostile toward the sound of Johnny’s boots echoing across the brick. It was jarring to see him so agitated. His hulking frame tangibly vibrating through the pounds of gear he was sporting. He truly considered just walking away. Spinning some tale about desertion because that seemed entirely less daunting than trying to corner an animal like Ghost.

Johnny eventually got him to leave. It was a non-option at this point, just a matter of getting the big bastard into the chopper. Tugging him away was like leashing a feral dog. He was fanatical, tugging at the lead and choking himself the entire way across the landing pad. Didn’t stop snarling until he was pushed down into his seat by Price and made to shut up.

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peachyspaceslvt · 3 months

Text

Pretty When You Cry

Tangerine x fem!reader

read it ao3

summary: Tangerine has a tendency of dropping back into your life at the most unexpected times. An incredibly frustrating habit, considering your efforts to forget him after you woke up to find him gone the first time you slept with him. No matter how hard you try to let him go - and how hard he tries to avoid his own feelings - something always brings the two of you back to each other.

word count: 6.2k

warnings: canon-typical violence, no use of y/n, smut (minors DNI), p in v sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, excessive use of the word fuck, porn with a little plot

a/n: reuploaded bc i accidentally deleted the original post ahasdhagd :,) - this started out as an idea I had been sitting on for a while, but I gave up fighting the itch in my brain to write for Tangerine. I may take the concept and expand on the story with a series, but for now enjoy some good ol' smut.

You step into the warm night air, the loud music of the club becoming muted by the walls. Your head spins as you lean against the brick. You’re burning up and the fresh air is a pleasant change from the thick, hot air inside. Sighing, you pull out a box of cigarettes and place one between your lips. You fumble with the lighter for a moment before you light the cigarette. You don’t usually smoke, but fuck you were feeling stressed. You’d finally agreed to go out with your coworker Carter, who’d been pestering you for a date for a while now. You thought it might be a good way to get your mind off of someone else. Unfortunately, you hadn’t expected him to bring you to a loud-ass club for a first date.

As you take a drag, the smoke swirls inside your lungs, making you feel light and dizzy. You tilt your head back against the wall and close your eyes as you exhale the musty cloud of smoke. You could feel the edge melting away from your nerves.

“Those things will kill you, ya know.” A familiar voice appears beside you.

“Fuck!” you jump, dropping the cigarette on the ground. You look up to see an even more familiar pair of eyes. Tangerine stands before you, arms crossed as he fixes you with a look that you don't recognize. He’s uncharacteristically dressed down tonight, wearing only dark gray slacks with a white button-up, the sleeves already rolled up. You try not to let your gaze linger on his tattooed arms. Why is he here? You were doing your absolute best to get him off your fucking mind, and yet here he is.

“What the fuck brings you here?” He slurs. The smell of alcohol on his breath is strong and it catches you by surprise. You’ve never really seen him drunk. Not like this, at least.

“I could ask you the same fucking thing,” you shoot back. He has a lot of audacity to show up here. You would be shocked at his ability to track you down had you not known just who he was. He has his ways, not to mention an incredibly frustrating tendency to end up in the same places as you.

“I thought you didn’t smoke,” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

“I don’t,” you reply flatly.

“Then what was that?” He points to the still-smoking cigarette you dropped.

“A distraction, maybe,” you mumble, leaning your head back against the wall. “You’re drunk, Tan, drunker than me.”

Tangerine laughs and runs a hand through his slick curls. “What are you runnin’ from, love?” His demeanor softens and he turns to lean on the wall beside you. Even now you still feel so small under his gaze.

“Oh fuck off,” you groan back. He chuckles again and you feel agitation stir within you.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He really is drunker than you.

“Why do you have so many fucking questions?” you snap. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Got another?” He motions to the cigarette on the ground.

“What happened to ‘those things will kill you’,” you mock his words from earlier as you pull another from the box for him.

“You might not smoke, love,” He says in a low voice as he places the cigarette between his lips, “but you know that isn’t the case for me.” He dips down slightly so you can light it for him, something you’ve done many times before. The close proximity of his face to yours sets off alarms in your brain. As you flick the lighter, his eyes shift up to yours and his cerulean gaze bores into you, making your skin prickle as you stand under his large frame. When the cigarette is finally lit, he straightens back up to lean on the wall. You watch as he takes a long drag before taking the cigarette between his ring-clad fingers and exhaling the smoke. Silence fills the space between you, only the sound of the music thumping inside can be heard. After a moment, you push yourself off of the wall and turn to walk back inside, trying not to stumble as you make your way to the door.

“Where are you going?” you feel his large hand wrap around your wrist and pull you back towards him.

“Well, you made me drop my cigarette, Tangerine. I don’t have any reason to be out here now,” you tell him, refusing to look at him. “Carter is probably wondering where I am anyway.”

“Don’t.” The tone of his voice causes you to falter. It’s unfamiliar, something you can't place. Not quite demanding, but not quite begging.

“I’m just going inside,” you huff and pull your wrist from his grip. Just as you turn to walk away again, his arm wraps around you and pulls you to his chest. You reach for his biceps to steady yourself. “Tan. You’re drunk,” you whispered.

“So are you.” His voice is raspy in your ear. You hesitate for a moment as you search his face. You couldn’t do this again, but god damn was it difficult to pull yourself away. Ultimately, you follow your better judgment as your hands come up to his chest and gently push him from you. He stays silent, watching as you turn back towards the door and head inside. The blaring music takes over once again as you push through the bodies and to the bar. Tangerine’s words echo in your mind as you take a seat. You sigh.

“Can I get you anything?” The bartender asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Double vodka cran.” He nods and busies himself with your drink.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Tangerine’s voice comes from behind you. You roll your eyes.

“You think you can go five minutes without questioning my decisions?” you retort. Tangerine chuckles again, taking the seat next to you. “I’m trying to fucking enjoy myself.” He doesn’t reply, instead ordering himself a drink when the bartender brings yours over.

“Hey!” Oh fuck. You hear Carter’s voice and look up to see him getting up from a table and heading in your direction. Running into Tangerine on your little smoke break has caused you to nearly forget that you even came here with him and you feel a bit guilty as he approaches the bar. “I thought I’d lost you for a moment th-” He stops when he notices Tangerine. “Is he bothering you?”

“No, we were just talking. I know him. It’s fine.” you wave your hand dismissively and take a sip of your drink, feeling the alcohol burn your throat.

“Yeah I know you do, he’s the fuckin’ asshole from the party.” Of course he remembers, Tangerine wasn’t even supposed to be there that night. He and Lemon had barged back into your life again, asking you to help sneak them into some fancy party that your job was catering for. You’d dressed them up as waiters and gotten them inside to do god knows what. Carter was none the wiser, assuming they were simply extra hands hired for the event. Until, of course, Tangerine’s inability to keep his mouth shut nearly started a fight with Carter.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Carter says, putting a hand on your back. The gesture sends icicles up your spine and you fight the urge to recoil under his touch.

“What? No, I said it was fine.” You look up at him, furrowing your brow a bit.

“And I said let’s go, don’t make this difficult.” He says harshly. What the fuck.

“Excuse me?” you set your drink down.

“She doesn’t want to go,” By now Tangerine is standing up and putting himself between the two of you. Carter scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking your wrist in his hand.

“Fuck off,” he hisses at Tangerine. You try to snatch your wrist back, but his grip is stronger than you expected.

“I don’t have to go anywhere with you!” You’re raising your voice now. You can feel Tangerine’s anger brewing without even looking at him. He’s practicing excellent restraint right now, but you know him well enough to feel the anger rolling off of him.

“Listen,” Carter starts, “I’m not going to sit here and let you whore around with every dude at this bar.” Before you can even fully register what he said, Tangerine’s fist is colliding with his jaw, knocking him back.

You stand up, your barstool falling over as you back away from the two men. Carter puts a hand to his jaw, looking up angrily at Tangerine before rushing forward and slamming him against the bar. Tangerine’s arm hits the drinks and sends them to shatter on the floor.

Carter draws back and punches Tangerine in the face, his other hand holding onto Tangerine’s collar. Tangerine grabs Carter’s shoulders, slamming his forehead into the other man’s nose. The sudden impact causes Carter to stumble back and Tangerine takes the opportunity to shift their position so that he’s the one holding Carter against the bar. His knuckles are white as he grips Carter’s shirt, his curls breaking loose from their slicked-back position and falling in his face as he rears back and punches him again. He punches him a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth…

“Tangerine! Stop, that’s enough!” you yell. By now people had noticed the fight. Two men quickly approach the three of you. Shit. One of them reaches Tangerine, who was now on his seventh punch, and pulls him off of Carter. The other one grabs Carter off the bar, his face bruised and bloody. You follow them as they drag the angry, panting men to the door.

“God dammit!” Carter yells as he recovers from being thrown outside. He lunges for Tangerine, who’s already prepared to catch Carter’s weight. He pivots them around, pinning Carter against the brick, his forearm pressing into his neck.

“Unless you’re not particularly fond of havin’ your arms attached to the rest of ya, I’d fuck right off if I were you,” he threatens in a low voice. He holds him there silently for a moment more, eyes wide and burning, waiting for a chance to make good on his threat. Carter finally nods, shoving Tangerine off of him and gathering himself up.

“He’s fuckin’ crazy,” he says looking at you. “Fuck both of you.” He throws his hands up as he backs away for a moment, then turns to leave.

Tangerine watches him round the corner, waiting until he’s completely out of sight before turning back to you.

You aren’t even sure how to process what just happened and you fight the tears threatening to well up in your eyes because you’re drunk and this isn’t how your night was supposed to go.

“Are you alright, love?” Tangerine asks, hands grabbing your face gently. His thumb strokes over your cheekbone as he searches your eyes and gives you a slight once-over. You close your eyes and nod. “Let’s get out of here.” He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him as he leads you off toward his car without a glance back.

“I’m not mad,” you break the silence as you sit in the passenger seat of his car. He clenches his fists around the thin steering wheel, sobered by the fight and rush of adrenaline.

“I wasn’t going to let him get away with sayin’ some shit like that to you,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road.

“I know,” you say softly.

“Why’d you even agree to go out with that prick anyway?”

“I’d never heard him say anything like that before. He’s always so nice at work, or at least he seemed like it. He’d been interested for a while, but I kept brushing him off. I don’t know, it didn’t seem smart to go out with my coworker.” You know that part is a lie and you’re not sure if Tangerine sees through it because he doesn’t respond. “I finally just agreed because…” you pause, not wanting to tell him that the reason you agreed to go out with Carter was because you would have done anything to get Tangerine out of your brain, “it doesn’t matter.”

He looks over at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Well darling, you have absolutely awful taste in men,” he finally says in a playful tone that makes you laugh for the first time tonight.

“Do you think you could stop at a gas station? I need a drink or something,” You feel the fog beginning to clear from your head and you really don’t want to face the impending headache.

“Yeah, of course. Could use a pack of smokes anyway, rather than bummin’ ‘em off of you,” He says as he searches for a place to stop.

The hum of the engine comes to an abrupt stop and Tangerine pulls the keys from the ignition. He looks over at you. “You comin’?” He asks. You nod and give him a small smile before he exits the vehicle. Neon lights dance across the damp pavement and draw your attention to the flickering sign above the convenience store as you step out. You're surprised at the number of people at the store at such a late hour, and the way they lean against their cars and eye Tangerine suspiciously gives you an unsettled feeling. He looks rather disheveled and it doesn’t help that his knuckles are bloody and busted. You look like a mess as well you’re sure and there’s a bruise forming on your arm where Carter grabbed you. The jingle of a tiny bell snaps you out of your thoughts and you see that Tangerine is holding the door for you. You mumble a low “sorry” and he continues inside. The cool air hits you as you follow him quietly.

You head for the drinks in the back and swing open the cooler door. The chill air feels good on your flushed face and you take it in for a moment, taking a deep breath in your attempt to gather yourself. You settle on some flavored water. Closing the door, you make your way through the fluorescently lit aisles, back to Tangerine’s side. Your head is still swimming from the drinks but you can feel sobriety reaching through. You stand silently beside him in line until you hear someone clear their throat behind you. When you turn to look, a man is looking Tangerine up and down with a suspicious look. You know he’s noticed the bruise on your arm and the way your makeup has started to run.

“Are you good?” He asks quietly, trying not to draw Tangerine’s attention. He hears him anyway, but before he can open his mouth with a snarky reply, you answer.

“Yeah, I am now,” you say softly, leaning a bit closer to Tangerine as you shift your gaze up to him and offer a smile. He feels a swell of pride in his chest at your words, thankful that you beat him to speaking, since he would’ve just told the guy to fuck off and mind his business.

The two of you reach the front of the line and Tangerine takes your water from you, placing it on the counter. You observe the way he moves as he talks to the cashier, his gold pendant glinting against his chest almost obscenely, the way his muscles shift under his buttoned shirt as he reaches into his pocket for his wallet, how the lines around his eyes crinkle when he smiles and -

“You coming, love?” He asks you, pocketing a pack of Marlboro Reds and handing you your water as he reaches for the door handle.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say and follow him out, hoping you don't appear as flustered as you feel. You don't see the beginnings of a smirk playing on his lips. You are once again greeted by the humid air but you don’t mind. There’s a lack of words between the two of you after what happened tonight and you can’t seem to tell if it’s good or bad. It frustrates you that you struggle so much to read him. What’s even more frustrating than that is how much it seems to get under your skin that you can’t. Since when did you care about trying to read people? Since you ended up in sketchy gas stations at almost four in the morning with a contract killer, you remind yourself.

“You’re being awfully quiet, darling.” Tangerine’s words catch you off guard as he starts the car again.

“I just… don’t have anything to say,” you shrug, watching him fumble with the radio. It’s true. You were desperate to get your mind off of him, but the night took an unexpected turn and now you're here. With him. He doesn’t say anything, instead opting to switch off the radio and turn around to back out of the parking space.

The city lights pass by in blurry gleams of color. There is truly no calm here, you think as life still bustles about despite the time of night. Your mind wanders back to Tangerine. The way he found his way to you still tonight. You know that none of it would have happened if he hadn't shown up, but you're glad nonetheless. Carter wasn't someone you wanted around, and truthfully you were never interested in him. You know, that despite being unwilling to actually admit it to yourself, a part of you hoped Tangerine would be jealous. You also know that given the circumstances, whatever it was you felt for Tangerine, wasn't realistic. It was stupid and you knew it.

“Shit,” Tangerine’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you look away from the window, "missed the bloody exit." The green of the exit sign illuminates his face as you pass under it, almost taunting him.

“Maybe you should pay more attention when you're driving,” you tease. He looks at you but doesn’t speak. It’s quiet the rest of the way back to your apartment.

Tangerine pulls into a parking spot and turns off the car. You begin to thank him for the ride, expecting him to simply drop you off, but he gets out and heads towards the stairs.

“Walking me to the door? How sweet,” you say teasingly as you step out of the car.

“Jus' wanna make sure you're safe,” he mutters, looking past you. You only nod, understanding what he doesn't say.

When you unlock the door, you stand quietly for a moment, not sure if he intends to leave or come inside. He looks at you with an unreadable expression before speaking.

“I guess I should be off then, I’m sure Lemon’s probably wonderin’ where the fuck I am right now.” You feel a twinge of disappointment but you nod, knowing it's best if he leaves.

“Thank you, for, well, you know. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s always a pleasure havin’ the opportunity to rough some bastard up a bit,” he jests.

“Of course it is. Goodnight Tangerine, thanks for getting me home.” You smile and shut the door the moment he turns to walk away, not wanting to watch him leave for another time.

You stand there with your hands on the door for a minute, your mind reeling with the events of the night as a flood of emotion hits you. First, a wave of affection for Tangerine, the way he leapt to your defense without a second thought. A pang of sadness follows, knowing you have fallen for a man with walls so high you’d never manage to scale them, a dangerously unhinged man that fell out of the fucking sky and right into your life. Then finally, anger washes over you. Anger for showing up tonight, when you just wanted to move on. Anger for leaving you to wake up alone after you fucked him, for making you fall in love with him all while knowing he’d keep you an arm’s length away. Anger that despite all of this, he just keeps showing back up in your life. In your heated frenzy, you reach for the door handle, hoping to catch him before he drives away, fully prepared to tell him off. You swing the door open but are taken completely by surprise to see Tangerine standing on the other side. He seems surprised too, not expecting you to fling open the door while he stood there still.

“You been standing there like a fucking dickhead this entire time?” You ask, crossing your arms. He gives you a defeated look.

“Couldn’t bring myself to fuckin’ knock. Couldn’t bring myself to just fuckin’ walk away either.” You watch him for a moment before deciding he’s being sincere and step aside to usher him in.

“Why’d you even fucking show up tonight, Tan?” You demand, closing the door behind him. He exhales deeply, his back still to you.

“I had no intention of showin’ up. I knew you were out with that tosser and the fuckin’ bottle got the best of me, darling. Next thing I know I’m gettin’ in the fuckin’ car because I couldn’t stand to think about you with that prick for one more fuckin’ second.” He finally turns to face you. His raw honesty is something new to you, usually, you’re left trying to piece what little bit he gives you together like some fucked up emotional jigsaw.

“I should’ve never agreed to go out with him,” you admit, meeting his eyes. “I just,” you draw in a breath, “I couldn’t get you off of my goddamn mind. I thought if I went out with him, then it’d take my mind off of you.” Tangerine’s lips press into a thin line, the crease between his brows deepening as they knit together.

“And,” you say, taking a step forward, “there was a part of me that thought maybe,” you swallow thickly, embarrassment creeping up on you, “that maybe you’d be jealous, even.”

“Oh you’re playing a very dangerous game, sweetheart,” Tangerine murmurs, his demeanor shifting. “You’d be smart to move on, forget me and find someone perfectly ordinary bloke instead.” You stare up at him as he moves in closer to you. “But you’re too fuckin’ stubborn, you’d rather nearly get your coworker killed to try and fuckin’ get at me.” There’s a sinister edge to his voice that sends a shiver up your spine and you wonder if you should’ve even admitted that to him.

He grabs your chin with one hand and looks at you through half-lidded eyes. Your pulse quickens, but your anger hasn’t completely dissipated.

“You’re the one who fuckin’ left in the middle of the night after you fucked me,” you spit back. His grip tightens and you swear you see the end of his mustache twitch.

“I did you a fuckin’ favor,” he hisses and lets you go. “You’ve got no business gettin’ tangled up with some fucked up bastard like me.”

“So why do you keep showing back up? Why haven’t you fucked off for good then? You said I’m stubborn but you won’t let me move on.” You’re starting to raise your voice now, your emotions running hot. Everything you’ve felt since he walked into the little cafe you work at on that ordinary fucking Wednesday afternoon is now bubbling up to the surface. You turn from him, walking away toward the living area of your apartment but he catches your wrist, gently.

“Because it turns out I just can’t get you the fuck off my mind either, love.” Your stomach is in knots, somehow both fluttering and sinking at the same time. “And maybe the thought of some fuckin’ asshole takin’ you home ate me the fuck up.” You stare at him, feeling weak under his burning stare. Emotion flashes across his face and he looks down in contemplation. You step closer to him again to close the distance.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? That you’ve fucked right with my head? Got me showin’ up to clubs off my fuckin’ face because the thought of anyone else havin’ ya makes me wanna put a bullet right through their skull.”

Your mouth is on his the second he stops speaking. His surprise fades quickly as his lips start to move against yours and you take him in. He tastes like vodka and cigarettes. He drops your wrist and wraps his arm around your waist. Your thoughts are consumed by him as you feel his tongue glide across your lower lip. Without a second thought, you let him in and your hands reach up to tangle in his curls. You run your tongue along the back of his teeth and he groans into your mouth. You wince slightly when he pulls away and trails his lips down your jaw.

“You make me fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He says between kisses.

“Show me,” you say breathlessly, biting back a moan when he nips the skin of your neck.

He doesn’t waste a second backing you up to the couch. You collapse onto the cushiony fabric below the moment you feel it hit the back of your calves, pulling Tangerine down with you. He’s still leaving marks along your neck so you grab his face and redirect him to kiss you again, his mustache tickling your nose. Your hand ghosts over the bulge in his trousers and his hips buck into the palm of your hand. The sound he makes is so pretty it sends a flood of arousal straight between your legs.

He pulls away again and looks at you, lips wet and glistening. His hand reaches the waistband of your pants and he meets your gaze in search of approval. You give him his answer by grinding your hips against his hand.

“You’re eager, darling,” he says as he slips his hand below the elastic, “but I’m taking my time with you.” He runs a ringed finger through your folds. “Fuckin’ hell you’re already so wet for me baby.” You bite your lip and lift your hips in an attempt to remove your pants. He swats your hands away and pulls them down for you, followed by your panties, tossing them both aside. He sits back on the couch, drinking in the sight of you.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous thing you are,” he swears as he returns his attention to your cunt, gliding his fingers through your slick and gathering the wetness on them. His thumb rubs a tight circle around your clit and you instinctively try to press your thighs together. He grabs one of your thighs with his free hand and forces them apart, holding them in place with his forearm. His ring and middle fingers plunge into you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp.

“Ah- Fuck, Tan-” You whimper as he curls his fingers inside of you, feeling the pleasure beginning to pool inside of you. He lowers himself so that he’s kneeling on the floor in front of the couch. He bites at the inside of your thigh, working his way down to your soaked heat as his fingers still pump deliciously in and out of you.

“You look so fuckin’ divine with my fingers inside you, love, need to taste you,” he mutters against your skin. Your hand flies to tangle in his curls when you feel his breath against your exposed cunt. He licks a single, flat-tongued stripe up your entrance stopping to swirl his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers are still working your pussy and you tighten your grip in his hair. He grunts when you tug on his curls, the vibration sending a shiver through you and causing you to buck your hips in response. His fingers dig into your thighs as he holds them apart still, fighting against your efforts to squeeze them shut.

You feel your orgasm building up, chasing the sensation as you fuck yourself on his thick fingers.

“Feels so good baby, gonna cum,” you manage between breaths, his fingers repeatedly pressing into your g-spot. He hums against your clit and the coil snaps. Your orgasm washes over you and you feel your walls spasm and tighten around his fingers. He doesn’t relent, still sucking and swirling his tongue around your clit, his fingers working you through the orgasm until you’re twitching from overstimulation.

He pulls away, lips still glistening as he sits back and brings his fingers to his mouth to lick your juices off of them. You watch him, mesmerized at the sight. Then, he moves back to the couch, caging you underneath him as he shoves his fingers into your mouth. He watches you through lidded eyes as you swirl your tongue around them, tasting the metal of his rings.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he pants, removing his fingers. His pupils are blown and his hair is a tousled mess of curls, he looks so goddamn beautiful that it sends a sudden wave of affection through you, causing you to reach up to touch his cheek. He leans into your touch, dipping back down to catch your lips. His tongue slips back into your mouth and you feel his cock press against your thigh. You grind your hips up, reaching for his belt at the same time.

“Want you to fuck me,” you whisper as you break the kiss. He curses and pulls away to finish the job for you, discarding his belt and kicking off his trousers. He works at the buttons of his shirt languidly before shrugging it off and tossing it aside as well. You take the chance to pull your shirt over your head and unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as Tangerine looks back up at you. He’s left in his briefs, his cock straining against the fabric as he moves to you once again. You reach for the elastic, freeing his cock and wrapping your fingers around him. He’s hot and heavy in your hand as you pump the velvety skin.

“Thought you wanted me inside, darlin’,” he grunts as your hands glide over him.

“Yes, need you.” You lean back onto the couch cushions, your legs spread. He kicks off his briefs and hovers over you, propping himself up on one elbow, the other hand taking his cock to line up with your entrance. He drops his head down to your ear, a growl vibrating through his chest as he bottoms out inside of you. The mild sting of him stretching you sends a surge of pleasure through you.

“Fuck, missed how you felt around my cock, love,” he huffs out.

“So good, baby,” you moan, throwing your head back. The feeling of being filled by him is almost overwhelming. It doesn’t take long for him to find a steady pace, dragging his cock along your slick walls. You hook your legs around his waist and pull him to you. He growls when you dig your heels into his back, needing to feel him deeper.

His rhythm picks up and he sinks back down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You gasp as he nips the sensitive skin, then swirls his tongue around it soothingly. Your hand finds purchase once more in his hair, the other clawing at his back as he splits you open on his cock, sinking into you repeatedly. He releases your nipple and licks a stripe between your breasts.

“Tangerine,” you cry out his name when the blunt head of his cock hits your g-spot. “Fuck right there.”

“Look at you, my little fuckin’ cock-drunk slut,” he groans between thrusts. Suddenly you feel something cold hitting you in the face and you see his pendant dangling in front of you. It slaps obscenely against your cheek with every rut of his hips. You tilt your chin up, looking at Tangerine through your lashes as you take the gold charm between your teeth with a gentle tug on the chain. The gesture alone is enough to send him into a frenzy and he reaches a brutal pace, pistoning into you as he chases his own orgasm.

“You gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” He rasps, “I’m close.” He adds, reaching between the two of you to massage your clit. You choke back a moan, writhing beneath him. You manage to nod and he hits your g-spot again. Your back arches up from the cushions, your chest pressed to his.

“That’s it, pretty, come on my cock. Wanna feel you squeezin’ me.” His words send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you blindingly. Your pussy clenches around his length and his name spills from your lips like a prayer as your walls flutter around him. His hips still rut into you at an unrelenting pace through your orgasm.

You feel his cock twitch and know he’s not far behind you.

“Want you to cum inside me,” you breathe. His head snaps up to look at you, eyes wide and pupils blown with pleasure.

“Bloody hell,” he pants, “you’re fuckin’ filthy. Wantin’ me to fill you up, love.” His hips falter. “Anything you want. Anything for you.” He thrusts again, reaching even deeper this time. His mouth finds your shoulder and he bites down hard as he cums. You feel his cock twitching, painting your insides with his cum.

He collapses onto your chest after he empties himself, panting heavy breaths. You feel his heart hammering in his chest against your own. You lay in silence, your mind reeling as your breaths echo inside the room. After a moment he peels himself away from you, his gaze devotional as he takes in the state of you. Breath ragged, your chest heaving as his cum leaks from you.

“Why don’t we move to the bed, yeah?” He says, getting up and slipping his briefs back on. You hum in agreement, feeling completely blissed out. He disappears into the bathroom and you sit up, spotting his discarded shirt laying across the coffee table. You reach for it, pulling it over your shoulders and buttoning it halfway before heading into your bedroom.

Tangerine returns from the bathroom, coming into your room and stopping when he sees you sitting in his shirt. You smile at him from the bed, still feeling a bit like a tingly pile of jello. Affection blooms in his chest, a feeling that terrifies him each time it creeps up. He knows you deserve better than this, his entire lifestyle posing a risk to you. He really should just fuck off for good.

You watch Tangerine move to the bed, scooting over to him as he flops down beside you. He turns his head to look at you, and you take his hand, kissing his busted knuckles.

“You know, I didn’t tell you earlier,” you start. “If it wasn’t already clear.” He looks at you quizzically. “That I feel the same way, about you, I mean,” you finish.

“Yeah, pretty fuckin’ obvious,” He rolls his eyes, but you see him crack a smile before pulling you to him.

Excessive amounts of sweat on your body wake you up but a weight on your torso stops you from sitting up. You look down, just able to make out Tangerine’s head on your stomach and his arm draped across your body. You feel a wave of relief to find that he’s still here with you. It’s barely light outside but you can’t go back to sleep so you slide out from under Tangerine’s grip. He stirs slightly, grabs a pillow, and rolls onto his stomach with his brow furrowed and curls flying wildly about. You’re still soaked in sweat from the heat of Tangerine’s body pressed up against you all night and your hair is a filthy mess so you decide to take a shower.

You start the water and peek out of the bathroom to make sure he’s still asleep. You’re relieved to see he hasn’t moved so you close the door and step into the small shower. The hot water erases the grimy feeling of sweat and oil but you’re annoyed as thoughts from the previous night creep into your mind. You should probably be angry but you’re only slightly annoyed, which comes as no surprise. How can you be angry thinking about how he kissed his way down your body, how his teeth grazed the skin of your neck as he sank his cock into you, your name pouring from his lips as he spilled into you. Then you remember what he said before.

He loved you. You didn’t even know if he meant it. He didn’t leave this time, so that had to mean something, right? You couldn’t have expected the night to turn out the way it did, but it was certainly full of surprises.

You stay in the shower until the water runs cold and forces you out. You wrap a towel around yourself and exit the bathroom. When you step back into your room, Tangerine is nowhere to be found, and your heart plummets. But before you can dwell on it too much, you hear a loud noise in the kitchen. Startled, you quickly head to investigate.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” Tangerine greets you, standing at the stove with a frying pan in his hand. “How do you like your eggs?” The scene before you feels very domestic. His pants hang low on his hips, and he is very noticeably without a shirt. The sight of him in your kitchen, with messy curls and a dumb grin spreading across his face, makes your stomach flip.

You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your own face. Maybe, just maybe, he meant it after all.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine smut #tangerine bullet train #tangerine #bullet train #tangerine fic #reader insert #peachys fics

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leafjoon · 4 months

Text

Between the lines - pt. II

words: 5k warnings: swearing, alcohol, age gap, slight angst, jealousy, mentions of cheating, smut, spitting, one slap, unprotected sex, daddy kink (barely). its also v fluffy n has aftercare

It was Saturday evening, and you decided to go out with your friends and enjoy yourself a little. You knew you deserved it after the absurd week you had. You finally turned those pages to Alex in time, cramming and staying home almost every night—the assignments you had neglected piled up, and you had to catch up.

But none of that mattered tonight. No, tonight you would have fun with your friends and let loose. Most importantly, you wanted to ignore the desire that had crept up on you for your editor since that night.

"Let's do shots!" your friend Rachel yelled out. You chuckled at her enthusiasm, deciding to join in. "Tequila?"

"You know it," she replied with a wink. It was half past eleven, and most of you were already drunk.

After you ordered your shots, everyone quickly shot them down their throats, some scrunching up their faces due to the sour taste. "God, this never fails to fuck me up," you said.

As you were listening to Sophie rambling about in her drunken state, you spotted a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. Squinting a little, you weren't sure if it was him. He looked like one of your ex-boyfriends. You quickly turned, not wanting him to see you.

Things had gone sour with him last year when you found out he had been talking to another girl behind your back. You were stupid to trust him. His lack of insincerity was evident to everyone else but you.

You huffed, not wanting to bring down the mood but getting agitated at the reminder of his existence and the insecurities he had brought out of you.

"Show me your phone," you said sternly, your nostrils flaring up. You felt insane for making such a demand, but your gut told another story.

"What the fuck? You've gone crazy," he said, letting out a chuckle.

"James. Just show me your last text, and we can forget about this. Okay?" you said, pleading with him. You wanted to trust him.

He looked at you, his face laced with guilt, and looked away. "No."

You let out a shaky breath. "Get out," you whispered. You knew exactly what this meant. You felt your chest tighten.

"What?" he asked, confused and angry.

"Get the fuck out!" you screamed at him, tears forming in your eyes. "I don't want to see you." Your heart was thumping in your chest.

He looked at you and clenched his jaw. Grabbing his coat, he let out a huff of disbelief and left.

“(Y/N)?” Sophie called out your name.

Your eyes, completely zoned out, now focused on Sophie's face. "Huh?"

"Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?"

"Uh. Yeah. Sure," you said, nodding, trying to be convincing, and taking a sip of your drink.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes at you, visibly annoyed.

"Sorry, I'm just drunk," you told her, pouting a little and giving your drink to her as a peace offering.

Your eyes searched for the exit, beckoning you to take a much-needed break outside. A quick smoke and a breath of fresh air sounded good. You weren't a smoker, but this situation called for it.

"Hey, can I grab a cig?" you asked one of your guy friends, Finn, as you pulled him in for a hug from behind. "Sure," he said, extending his pack of cigarettes to you.

When you went outside, you were met with a cool breeze. You lit up your cigarette, bringing it to your mouth, and felt slightly calmer as you exhaled the smoke.

Suddenly, you heard a voice from behind calling your name. “(Y/N)? Is that you?"

You froze. No. You didn't turn around, hoping he would leave you alone.

"Hey," he approached you with a slight smirk. "Started smoking, huh?"

"No, not really," you said in a dull tone, glancing at him for a split second and then looking away.

"Haven't seen you in a while. How've you been?"

"Fine, thanks," you replied, slightly turning away from him. You hoped you didn't have to cause a scene to get him to leave.

"What, that's it?" he chuckled.

"I came out here to avoid people, James," you said, looking anywhere but in his direction.

"Come on, lighten up," he rolled his eyes.

Your head snapped. You were about to throw a snarky remark at him when you heard a low voice calling you. “(Y/N).”

When you turned around, a pair of gentle eyes met you. Your face immediately fell into a relieved expression, and you smiled. "Alex?"

James turned to look at him, eyeing him up. As Alex approached the two of you, he sensed your discomfort.

He talked to James and exchanged pleasantries. Alex wanted to snatch you away, not let him have the time of day with you.

"Do you mind if I steal her for a second, mate?" he asked, not waiting for a response. "Sure," James uttered, his intense gaze settling on him.

You and Alex started walking away from him, turning around the corner and settling in an alleyway.

"What a nice surprise." You said, your cheeks flushed. You took note of his appearance. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a brown blazer. His hair styled as usual, with a few strands falling on his face. He looked gorgeous.

"You seemed uncomfortable earlier," he furrowed his brows. "You alright?" he asked, squeezing your arm.

You shivered slightly from his touch. "I-uh. Yeah. Thank you for that. I didn't know how to get away," you admitted.

"Who was that anyway?" he asked, his eyes glued on your face, taking in all your expressions.

"Just some dickhead. You know how terrible college guys are."

He chuckled lightly. "I do. I used to be one."

"Oh, were you also a dickhead?" you joked.

"I don't think so." You laughed. He smiled, admiring you.

"So, you've taken up smoking in the three days we haven't seen each other?" he teased you.

"No," you laughed shyly. "Just really needed one right now."

"Care to light mine then?" he asked, his eyes glinting.

You brought your lighter close to his face, feeling his faint breath on your hand.

"Thanks," he blew the smoke the other way.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, sounding like you were interrogating him.

"Well, you know, sometimes we older people like to go out too."

You laughed, slapping his shoulder lightly.

"No, actually, I was passing through on my way home. Then I saw a familiar little head."

"Oh. Well, that's lucky," you smiled.

His gaze lingered on you. His pants slightly tightened when he took notice of your flimsy outfit.

You were wearing a thick jean jacket covering your dark blouse. Your breasts peeked out of your top, revealing your supple skin.

Alex felt himself growing jealous, imagining the amount of men that leered at you throughout the night. A beautiful girl like you, he was sure they were foaming at the mouth.

You suddenly felt shy under his gaze and looked away. Your phone vibrated, and you took it out of your pocket, slightly humming.

"Where the hell are u?" Finn had texted you.

You checked the clock, and it was already 12:07 am. You felt a little tired and wondered if heading home would be a good idea.

"Friends?" Alex interrupted your thoughts.

"Yeah. They're wondering where I went." He nodded.

"Think I'm gonna go home, though. I'm getting a bit sleepy," you said, glancing at him and waiting for his reaction.

"Sure." He replied.

You tried again. "You know, the apartment I'm staying at isn't that far from this bar," you looked at him expectantly.

"Would you like me to walk you?" he said softly.

"Sure." You mimicked him.

After saying goodbye to your friends, you returned outside, meeting Alex by the door.

The apartment was only a fifteen-minute walk from there, but it felt much quicker than that. You had good company, after all.

You started shivering a bit, crossing your arms to emit heat.

Alex took notice of that and came closer to you. He removed his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, one of his hands lingering on your arm.

You felt your body tense at the close contact. He slowly let his hand fall as you were walking.

"Don't you live in a dorm?" he asked.

"I do. I'm cat-sitting for one of my friends. She went to visit her family for the weekend."

He nodded. "Is the cat behaving?"

You chuckled. "He's adorable. You have to see him."

A smile played on Alex's lips as you both arrived at your friend's apartment. The evening had been enjoyable, yet you felt a subtle disappointment as you stood there. You hesitated, not wanting to say goodbye.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked as you met his gaze.

His eyes flickered to yours. Silence stretched between you, and he struggled to find the right words.

"I, uh... It's getting a bit late for me," he finally said, his gaze momentarily dropping.

"Okay," you replied, your gaze shifting downward, a sense of vulnerability washing over you. You handed Alex his jacket, your fingers lightly grazing.

"It was nice seeing you again," he said, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across your face. The touch lingered, leaving a trail of warmth.

"Night, Alex," you replied, your gaze fixed on him. As he turned to leave, the quiet echo of your thoughts filled the space, leaving you to wonder about the possibilities that danced in the corners of the night.

As the days passed, you were distracted by endless thoughts about your editor. It became evident, especially during class. Images of his warm smile, big hands, and fluffy hair filled your mind. You felt yourself growing more drawn to him whenever you weren't together.

When your professor dismissed the class, you realized you had been daydreaming about him almost the entire time and scribbling gibberish in your notebook. You let out a long sigh and started gathering your belongings, stuffing them in your bag.

Sophie joined you as you exited the class. "God, can he give us any more assignments?" she let out a huff of frustration. "What assignment?" you asked.

"Didn't you hear him?" she asked. "No," you shrugged.

She laughed. "What were you doing? I kept looking at you, and you seemed so zoned out."

"Oh. Nothing. I was thinking about my novel," you blurted out.

"How's that going, by the way? Is Mr. Turner treating you well?" she asked.

Mr. Turner. Oh boy.

"Sure! I mean-yeah, no he's great," you stuttered.

"Okay..." she glanced over to you. "So what are you doing today?" you asked, changing the topic.

You quickly returned to your dorm room, not wanting to run into anyone else you knew. When you entered your room, you kicked off your shoes, threw your bag somewhere on the floor, and flung yourself on your sofa. You groaned. What the hell were you supposed to do with these overwhelming feelings?

Flicking your phone open, you saw a text message from Alex. Your heart started racing.

Hi. I hope you're well. I will not be available tonight to help with your assignments. Would it be all right if we rescheduled for tomorrow?

You felt a pang of disappointment as you read the text. You had felt so jittery all morning and couldn't wait to see him, and now this. Sighing, you replied to him and immediately texted Sophie. You needed to go out tonight.

You made dinner plans with your best friend and decided to try out a new restaurant that had opened downtown. The menu looked amazing, and the prices were pretty decent. Your parents had always been generous with you about money, but you made sure to save and indulge occasionally.

As you entered the restaurant, you felt a warm ambiance enveloped you. The smooth jazz tunes filled the place, and the hostess escorted you to a free table nearby.

When you sat down, you and Sophie excitedly looked through the menu and ordered your drinks and meal. While Sophie was telling you about her latest situationship, your eyes wandered around the restaurant, taking in the beautifully decorated place.

The warm lights cast a beautiful glow on your friend, and you listened as she told you about the intense chemistry she felt with this guy. "Ugh, I don't know, there's just something about him." her eyes sparkled.

"You mean the incredible sex you're having?" you said playfully.

She cracked up. "I mean…among other things."

"So why aren't you making it official?"

"I don't know (Y/N). I'm unsure if I want to be in a relationship right now. It seems like too much work. I got my plate full with everything going on," she sighed.

You nodded, glancing behind Sophie. She continued talking about how he wanted to see her all the time. Wait-You thought you spotted someone. Was that Alex?

Your gaze focused on him. He was seated at a distant table, laughing with the woman beside him. Your mouth slightly dropped, and your eyes fixated on them.

Frozen in your seat, you felt a surge of emotions within you, the sight creating a knot of unease in your stomach. What the hell? Had he canceled on you to go out with some woman?

You swallowed thickly, and Sophie noticed the change in your demeanor. "Hey, you okay?"

"Uh-yeah," you replied. "Who do you keep staring at?" she said, looking over her shoulder.

Then she spotted the man who preoccupied your mind. "Oh, is that Mr. Turner? Should we go up to him?"

"No! I mean, he seems busy," you lowered your gaze.

"Yeah, I guess he's got a hot date," she giggled.

You nodded, taking a large swig of your wine. You prayed he wouldn't see you. The last thing you needed right now was for him to notice how stupid you looked.

You cringed, hearing their distant laughter and shared joy starkly contrasting to the quiet ache that tightened within you.

You decided to distract yourself and urged Sophie to continue telling you about the boy she was seeing. "Well, at least one of us is getting some action," you joked, feeling slightly bitter.

You tried to enjoy your meal and ignore the pit in your stomach. Forcing yourself to focus only on Sophie, you refilled your wine glass and continued talking to her.

Later in the evening, you noticed that their table had become empty. Glancing over, you caught a glimpse of Alex and the woman leaving, and an inexplicable mix of relief and regret washed over you.

You were thankful he didn't see you and talk to you, but at the same time, you couldn't believe he blew you off to go on a date. He didn't owe you anything. After all, he was only your editor.

That night, tipsy and emotional, you stumbled to your dorm room. How were you going to face him tomorrow and ignore your growing feelings? In your drunken haze, you decided that was a decision for sober you to deal with, and you went to sleep, comforted by the spinning room.

The next day arrived with a weight on your shoulders that matched the dull ache in your head from last night. As you walked to Alex's place, slightly hungover, the memory of him having dinner with another woman gnawed at your thoughts.

You awkwardly entered his house, exchanged a few words with him, and immediately buried your nose in your assignment, minimizing any chances of small talk. Alex finally spoke up after an hour of you struggling to make any progress.

"Is something the matter (Y/N)?" he asked gently.

"What do you mean?" you mumbled.

"You seem agitated today." He sighed.

"I'm fine," you huffed.

"Are you sure? We aren't getting anywhere with this assignment," he continued, face laced with concern.

You clenched your jaw. How the hell could you? Oh yeah, well, I thought I felt a spark with you, but that went to shit when I saw you having dinner with a gorgeous woman. Not to mention, I'm probably insane for even thinking there was something between us.

You sighed. "Nothing is wrong; let's just finish this," you murmured.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he pressed.

"Why not?" you said, annoyed.

"We've been stuck in this section for an hour. Maybe we should take a break, or you can go home and rest," he replied, his worried eyes meeting yours.

Oh, so now he's kicking me out. Fuck this shit.

"Fine. I'll go," you spat out, getting up and grabbing your papers and notebook roughly.

He stared at you, confused, wondering if he had struck a chord in you.

"Hey," he said gently. "Hold on."

You ignored him and continued gathering your things.

"(Y/N)."

Disregarding him, you shoved everything into your bag.

"Will you stop acting like a brat and tell me what's wrong?" he said, slightly irritated.

You looked at him in disbelief. "Excuse me?" You swallowed thickly. "You wanna know what's wrong?"

You huffed. "I saw you!"

His head tilted in confusion. "Saw me where?"

"The other night, with that woman," you blurted, the words leaving your mouth faster than your thoughts could catch up.

You continued, "Am I crazy for thinking that- that," you stuttered.

Groaning, you ran your fingers through your hair.

"That what?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing," you replied.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice softening, "why are you making such a fuss?"

Your attempts to brush off the situation faltered. "I-" Your voice caught in your throat. "It seemed like you were on a date," you finally said.

He stared at you for a moment, his expression softening. "I wasn't on a date. I was catching up with an old friend."

You couldn't meet his gaze, your eyes fixated on your hands.

The weight of the misunderstanding pressed on your shoulders.

"Why does it matter if I was on a date or not?" he asked, a genuine curiosity in his tone.

"It doesn't. You're allowed to do whatever you want," you whispered.

"But you don't want me to, right?" he pressed, with a hint of concern.

You looked at him, your expression uncertain. "Whatever. I'm gonna go. Please forget I said anything," you mumbled, hurrying towards the exit.

"Hey, hey," he said, grabbing your forearm gently but just enough to stop you. "Is this why you've been so moody and distracted all day? Because you thought I was seeing someone?"

You shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "You canceled our session to see her," you mumbled.

He sighed. "Let's sit down and talk about this, okay?"

You mumbled an 'okay' and followed him to the couch.

He started, "I wasn't on a date, and I certainly don't want you to think I'm not considerate of your feelings. I did cancel our session to see her, and I apologize. She's only here for a few days before returning to Sheffield, where she lives with her husband."

"Oh," you said quietly.

"Maybe I should've communicated better," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"It's fine, I guess," you muttered.

"I'm sorry. You mean a lot to me, (Y/N)," he smiled at you, putting a hand over yours.

He scooted closer to you, his face merely a few inches away from yours, and your breaths mingled in the small space between you. Alex's eyes lingered on your lips.

Your heart started racing. With a slow movement, Alex leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You felt a wildfire of emotions as the kiss intensified, leaving you breathless.

Barely pulling away, he whispered, "How 'bout I show you how I feel about you?"

You felt a flutter of anticipation in your stomach and nodded in response.

His hand found its way to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours again. His other hand settled on your thigh, his fingertips tickling your skin. His tongue slid against yours, massaging it gently.

He pulled away slightly, panting, "Do you want to go upstairs?" You nodded.

He dragged you upstairs to his bedroom, the air charged with desire. His eyes were filled with an intensity you couldn't ignore.

Alex's hands found the small of your back, pulling you closer. His lips found yours once again, slipping his tongue inside your mouth, letting you taste him again.

He guided you to his bed, and you sank into the mattress, sprawling beneath him.

He settled on top of you and pressed his body against yours. His nimble fingers squeezed your thighs as his half-hard member rested between your legs. You gasped quietly when you felt him on your arousal, feeling his hot breath tickling your skin.

He sighed as one of his hands found its way to your cheek, grazing it lightly. You felt soft, just like he'd imagined. He gently pressed his lips to yours, and you opened your mouth, your tongues tangling.

You let out a sound when his other large hand came down to caress your waist, settling below your breast.

He broke the kiss with a smack, leaned down, and whispered in your ear, "I'm gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart," his words sending goosebumps all over your body.

As he left a trail of hot kisses and bites down your neck, he made sure to suck a spot, marking you. He wanted to ruin you. Pleasure you until he was the only thing on your mind.

"Alex," you sighed, bringing one of your hands to grab his hair, the other settling on his back, gripping the material of his t-shirt.

He smirked against your skin as his big hands roamed your body. He cupped your breasts roughly, pulling a whimper out of you.

Pulling away from your neck, his eyes settled on your face. His fingers flicked your nipples, playing with them. This made your arousal only grow more.

He retreated his hands and took off your shirt slowly, revealing your tits. He hissed, "Fuck. You're stunning," as he caressed your naked breasts. He leaned down to suck softly on one of your nipples.

"A-alex," you whispered, gripping his hair tighter.

He moaned, enjoying it in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. He bit down softly on it, making you gasp and your back arch.

"So stiff," he muttered, making your face heat up. His mouth found your other breast, leaving open mouthed-kisses on it, his lips wrapping around your nipple.

His hand made its way down to the zipper of your trousers, and he asked, "Can I take these off?"

You nodded, and he slipped them off you, throwing them on the ground.

He towered above you as his hand went down to your delicate panties, rubbing your arousal, feeling your wetness. The sight would be plaguing his mind for weeks on end.

"Already soaked for me, yeah?" He whispered, soliciting a quiet moan out of you. "Hm?" he looked at you. You gulped, "Yes."

He half-grinned as he pushed the thin material to the side and started stroking your slit. "So drenched," he gasped.

Your skin was on fire, and you moaned quietly. He started teasing your entrance and gathered your slick. He then slipped your underwear past your legs, throwing them somewhere on the bed.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he uttered, and you obliged, feeling shy under his gaze.

He licked his lips at the sight and stroked your thighs tenderly before returning his finger to your clit. He rubbed it softly, emitting soft moans out of you. His other hand crept on your throat, resting there.

"Oh!" You moaned loudly when he found a spot that made your legs shake and started rubbing your clit faster.

He looked at you in awe, his mouth slightly agape. You were adorable, giving yourself to him completely.

He continued rubbing your bundle of nerves, drinking in all your reactions. He slipped a finger, and you threw your head back, gasping softly.

He pumped in and out of you, and his cock twitched in his pants. He felt painfully hard. He slipped in another finger with ease and stretched you out, his knuckles deep inside you.

Curling them inside, he hit a sweet spot that made your eyes roll. "Think you can handle a third one, sweetheart?"

You nodded, whimpering. Alex's hand snaked to your jaw, opened your mouth, and stuck his thumb inside. You made sure to suck on it.

He pushed his finger in, pulling out a loud whine from you and spreading you out like never before.

"Good girl."

He noticed you clenching around his fingers. "Like it when I call you that?"

You nodded. "Well, you have to earn it," Alex said as he fucked you with his fingers.

Your chest heaved as his other hand went down to your pussy, now playing with your clit.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he continued to pump in and out of you. "Such a perfect cunt," he mumbled to himself.

You grabbed his wrist roughly, signaling to him that you were getting close. He noticed you were clenching his fingers more, and your moans were getting louder.

He slowed his movements and gently slipped his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty.

"Alex…" you whined, your hands grabbing the front of his shirt. Breathing heavily, you looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

"What is it?" he teased you.

"I need you..."

"Need me? For what?" he asked. His cock needed stimulation so badly, but he wanted to make you beg.

You huffed. "I need you to fuck me," you whispered quietly, bringing him closer. "Daddy," you whispered.

He groaned, "Fuck. You're so greedy. Can't be satisfied with what I give you, huh?" he asked, unzipping his trousers, slipping out of them.

You started unbuttoning his shirt quickly, tossing it to the ground. Alex sighed as you roamed your hands on his toned chest.

He removed his boxers swiftly, exposing his thick cock, precum pooling on the head already.

You bit your lip as your hand went down to his member, stroking it, earning a few moans out of him.

He pulled your hand away after a few minutes and grabbed his member, positioning it near your entrance.

He teased your folds with his cock, gathering your wetness and rubbing your clit, letting out soft moans.

He then tapped your entrance and started entering you slowly, filling you to the brim, the sensation bringing tears to your eyes.

You gasped and closed your eyes. Alex grabbed your cheeks. "Look at me," he said hoarsely.

You wrapped your hands around his back and pulled him flush against your chest.

He started moving slowly, letting you get used to the stretch of his cock.

"F-fuck. You feel amazing," he stuttered.

You barely managed to keep your eyes open. You felt so full of him.

Your breaths mixed together, and you pleaded, "Faster, please," he obliged, fucking you faster, making you whimper loudly.

"You look so pretty, taking my cock," he soothed as he slammed his hips into yours, making you gasp.

It felt so good you couldn't contain any of your whimpers and moans. Filthy squelching noises filled the room, making you even more wet around him.

Your sweaty bodies were pressed against each other, and he engulfed your senses. He grabbed one of your breasts roughly, massaging it as his pace became fast and steady, fucking you deliciously.

You felt so fucked-out, your eyes were rolling to the back of your head repeatedly. You felt desperate for him. As he hit a delicious spot inside, you repeatedly cried out his name.

"That's it, baby, scream my fucking name."

He held you close to him as he slammed his cock in and out of you, making you feel every inch of it. He grabbed your jaw and ordered, "Open your mouth."

You did as told, your tongue peeking out, slightly panting. He pursed his lips and spat roughly on your tongue, uttering, "Swallow."

You swallowed, whining, and sank your nails into his back.

"Such a slut for me," he hissed.

You moaned loudly, clenching on his cock uncontrollably. You felt yourself approaching your climax, and he could feel it, too.

"What? You wanna cum?" he teased you.

"Please," you begged, nearing your release for the second time.

"Gonna have to do better than that, love," he replied, slowing down a little.

"Alex, please," you whined. "Don't stop. I need you," you pleaded with him pathetically.

"Do you, now?" he asked, stopping abruptly. He grabbed your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him.

"No!" you whimpered, your chest heaving. "I'll be so good. Just let me cum."

"Where?" he asked in a husky tone.

"I-," you stuttered.

"Go on, say it," he encouraged you.

"On your cock," you whispered, flushed.

He grunted, "Good girl," his hand immediately going to your pulsating clit. His other hand smacked your cheek harshly.

You whined, tears gathering in your eyes while reveling in the stinging feeling. Cupping it gently, Alex alleviated the pain a little.

"It's alright, princess," he soothed, leaning down to capture your lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

He started fucking your drenched pussy at a fast pace, making you see stars. As he grabbed your waist for leverage, you felt overwhelming pleasure pooling in your abdomen.

Your orgasm was building quickly, ready to snap at any moment, as he thrust into you repeatedly. Your legs were wrapped around him, needing him as close as possible.

His movements were becoming sloppy, an indication of his own climax approaching. Your skin was ablaze, and the way he was moaning was making you delirious.

"Cum on my cock, sweetheart," he said.

"Fuck, Alex!" You screamed and felt waves of pleasure spreading throughout your body as you orgasmed on his cock, convulsing. You were whining uncontrollably.

Your nails were digging into his arm, surely breaking the skin, but you were too cock-drunk to care.

"Fuck, your cunt is so tight," he groaned as he struggled to thrust into you. It only took him a few more thrusts for him to cum inside you, letting out a drawn-out moan.

His hot load completely filled you up, his jaw hanging slack. After he emptied inside you, he collapsed on top, burying his face in your neck.

As you both came down from your high, he pulled out of you gently. He couldn't help but look down at your pussy, admiring the mess he made out of you.

He loved the way his cum seeped out. No one could have you now.

He laid down beside you and stroked your waist. "You alright?" he uttered.

You were still catching your breath and opened your eyes slowly. "Yes," you sighed.

You turned your back to him, feeling exposed. You were still trying to figure out what to do now. Should you…leave or stay? Your thoughts were interrupted by him as he pressed his body against yours and draped an arm over you.

"We should get you cleaned up," he whispered, kissing your shoulder, his arm stroking your stomach.

"Okay," you whispered.

"Want me to draw us a bath?" he asked.

"I love baths…" you muttered.

He chuckled. "Perfect." He pressed a kiss to your head and headed for the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water reached your ears, and you sat on the bed.

Alex returned with a tender expression. He extended his hand, inviting you to join him in the bathroom.

You felt a bit shy, especially since you were still naked and not hazed by your lust anymore. Alex made sure to hold onto your hand, which reassured you.

You stepped on the cool tiles, and Alex asked, "You want bubbles?"

"Yes," you murmured.

After a few minutes, you eased yourself into the hot water, and so did he, sitting on opposite ends of the bath.

The water had a comforting effect on you as your body melted into it. Alex broke the silence. "Why are you so far away?"

"I don't know. Why are you?" you replied. "Come here," he said, extending his arms to grab yours and turning you around, pressing your back to his naked chest.

You settled yourself between his legs, relaxing against his body, and he wrapped his arms around you. "Why'd you get all shy on me now? You were yelling at me an hour ago," he chuckled.

"I wasn't yelling at you," you furrowed your brows, growing defensive. "I'm just teasing," he whispered close to your ear.

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever," you puffed. "Why are you getting so defensive?" Alex said, holding you tighter.

"Because, I have no idea what this means now," you mumbled.

He smiled, sensing your uncertainty. "Well, what I do know is care about you and…would love to take you out sometime. And do this again," he said, kissing your cheek.

"Me too," you replied, your cheeks flushed.

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hm."

"Why don't you stay the night? It's getting late anyway."

"It's like 8 pm, Alex."

"Exactly. So late," he replied.

You laughed. "I have nothing to wear to bed nor do I have a toothbrush," you protested.

"I can give you a t-shirt. They'll look better on you anyway. And I'll go to the shop and buy you one. How's that sound?"

You giggled. "Okay, you've convinced me."

Leaving the bath, the air between you and Alex felt different, as if the weight of unspoken tensions had been washed away. Wrapping yourselves in fluffy towels, you talked to him effortlessly and discussed what you should eat for dinner.

The decision to spend the night together unfolded effortlessly, and you decided to get some Chinese take-out and watch a chick flick.

Later in the night, you found yourself nestled on Alex's big, comfortable bed and drifted off to a dreamless slumber, comforted by the presence of the man spooning you.

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #if u see any mistakes simply ignore them ok thx #alex turner fluff #alex turner angst #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fic #alex turner smut #i have no idea what to do for chapter 3 bro #if anyone has any requests hmu #n they lived happily ever after ????#no there must be conflict !!

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brotherblaze · 1 year

Text

double black² —wednesday addams

▹ wednesday addams/gn!gorgon!reader

▹ synopsis: Wednesday witnesses exactly how the fights you get into usually start out, and the aching consequences.

▹ content warnings: violence, angst

▹ word count: ~2,2k

▹ part 1 | navi / AO3

"The movie was shit, by the way; pure torture. At least I was alone 'cause normal people don't go to the movies on a fucking Tuesday."

You cradle the flame from your lighter in the palm of your free hand as you bring it to the end of your cigarette. The sweet smell of mint washes over you as it ignites and the lighter snaps shut with a resounding click. You inhale and the tip glows bright red.

"That's a horrible habit," Wednesday comments, sitting next to you on the stone railing surrounding the front lawn of the school. She eyes the cigarette with a look of contempt.

"It's supposed to start tasting more and more disgusting as time goes on." You pluck the cigarette from your mouth and balance it between your pointer and middle fingers. "Like soap, I think. Guess I'll quit when I get there." You take another drag and tilt your face up. Smoke rings float into the air. Gray soot falls off the burnt end and lands on the stone you're sitting on. Wednesday brushes it off with a frown.

She opens her mouth to respond with a biting retort but a sharp whistle cuts her off. It's painfully loud and she whirls around to tell whoever it is to fuck off. You beat her to it, shoulders turning and body following until you're sitting so you're facing the school. The man grins and says something in a foreign language.

You reply, tone sharp and biting, and extinguish the red-hot end of your cigarette against the stone railing. "Stay here," you tell her before you push yourself off the railing. Your boots thud dully when you land, scraping along the cobblestone-paved road to the stranger as you approach. Whatever you tell him next is drawn out.

Your voice has a lower pitch in this language. Rougher. Throaty.

(Wednesday finds herself liking it.)

Whatever you talk about, it leaves you agitated. There's a straightness in your shoulders she doesn't usually see, hands curled into fists at your sides. The man raises his hand to jab you in the shoulder and you slap his hand away. When his eyes meet Wednesday's, you immediately step into his line of sight. She watches a grin curl onto his lips. He leans down slightly to whisper something to you.

Your answer to whatever he said is a mouthful of spittle in his face.

He moves fast, too fast for him to be just human. The speed leaves her dizzy from just watching, and her heartbeat leaps into her throat when he suddenly has his arm wrapped around your throat from the back. You only hold a hand out, pointing a finger at Wednesday. "Don't." You wheeze loudly when he tightens his grip around your windpipe but your gaze stays on Wednesday like you're ordering her to stay where she is. "Don't."

The stranger says something. She sees his mouth move, but can't decipher what he's saying. The letters in his words don't make sense and the shapes his mouth makes when he speaks are odd. She can't focus, her gaze pinned to your face, the way your teeth grit together.

His hand is suddenly in your hair, arm around your throat loosening just enough to force your head forward and down to meet the brunt of his knee. Your teeth snap together as the world tilts on its axis and you fall onto your side, palms scraping along the gravel lodged between the cobblestones.

The spring air is cool and you welcome the burn in your lungs when you inhale. It doesn't last.

The hard nose of his boot strikes your ribs. It rips a pathetic wail from your lips as the pain rushes through your torso. Your eyes are watering. You attempt to roll away from him and your efforts are met with another hard kick.

The burn in your lungs becomes unpleasant all at once as you attempt to breathe. Every muscle in your torso is screaming when you attempt to pull yourself onto your knees to stand. Another kick to the ribs, another screeching wail of a banshee. This time, something crunches.

You roll onto your back, chest heaving. There's a lump in your throat you force back down.

Wednesday is rooted to the spot. Her feet feel like lead and she can't will them to move, to step forward and drag you away from the confrontation by the lapels of your jacket—maybe whack your assailant over the head with a thick branch.

She can't even startle when a new figure pulls the man off you, can't focus on the way coach Vladimir presses his knee against the stranger's throat. She just stares at your slowly moving figure, curling up with a wet gasp, shielding your head with your arms. The snakes in your hair are lying limp on the ground.

Larissa Weems arrives moments later, crouching next to your curled-up body. Her hair is in disarray, large strands of white falling out of their neat updo, curling around her face. Her fingers curl around your wrist, her mouth forming words to say something in a language Wednesday can't understand. You only curl further into yourself with a choked sob.

Wednesday's feet finally move and her boots scrape against the gravel. Weems' head snaps up and her eyes narrow on Wednesday.

"Ms. Addams, return to your room." Weems brushes a particularly annoying loose lock of hair behind her ear. Her gaze is hard, scrutinizing—like she's planning a murder and willing to commit it right in front of everyone's eyes. "Now, Ms. Addams."

Wednesday doesn't argue, can't even find her voice to argue. She places one unsteady foot in front of the other, knees weak, and heads towards the dormitories.

Your body aches.

It's dull, but it's everywhere.

Pain tingles in your ribs when you breathe and you almost want to growl out a swear but your jaw aches, too. Your tongue feels like dead weight in your mouth.

The muscles in your neck are tense, erupting in searing hot pain when you let your head tip to the side. The pillowcase against your cheek feels scratchy and you make a mental note to buy a new set of bedsheets once you're able to stand.

Wednesday is sitting in the beanbag chair next to your bed. Her textbooks are placed on the edge of your bed and she's furiously scribbling something into the notebook in her lap with a fancy fountain pen. She's wearing your sunglasses.

"Good evening." She continues her hasty scribbling, not bothering to look up as she greets you.

"I feel like I got into a fight with a bear. And lost." Your voice is hoarse and your throat dry. It's like you've swallowed sand.

"Something like that."

She caps her fancy pen and finally looks up. Her lips are pulled into a tight line but you can't see her eyes. She gently adjusts your sunglasses but doesn't remove them. Yet you can still feel the intensity of her gaze. So, you turn your head to stare at the other side of your bed.

You're met with a pile of colorful decorative pillows, fuzzy blankets, stuffed animals of all colors and breeds, with weird, bulging acrylic eyes. Even Enid's pink-and-orange sweater is resting next to your pillow, neatly folded. It's a size too small but you appreciate the sentiment.

"Enid thought you'd be more comfortable this way," Wednesday says from her spot in your beanbag chair. She doesn't move. You clear your throat and grumble something under your breath.

"Lotsa colors."

You have an accent, Wednesday realizes. It's faint, but it's there. English makes your voice softer—higher. She misses the roughness it had the night before.

She abruptly stands, straightening her sweater and pants. You turn to look at her with wide eyes, lips turned into a small frown like you're afraid she's leaving for good. Ask me to stay, she thinks.

But you don't.

"You missed dinner," she says. Her voice has the same lilt but for a moment the intrusive thought that maybe it's too harsh for your current condition flashes through. But you make no deal of it, only hum like you've resigned yourself to accepting any bad news she might announce. In a move that surprises even herself, she speaks, "I'll go get it."

You stare at her with wide eyes, mouth moving like you're about to tell her not to, to tell her you can do it yourself. Her reply is the most venomous look she can muster and a curt, "Don't move."

She's out the door before you can argue.

And she returns with a large tray in hand, holding not only your dinner but every single vegetable she could stand the sight of. Something about five different colors of vegetables.

Instead of where she left you, Wednesday finds you lying face-down on the edge of your bed. You groan, voice muffled.

"I take back what I said. I feel like I got run over by an 18-wheeler."

"Why are you out of bed?"

"I had to pee, like, really bad." Your arms are shaking when you push yourself onto all fours to climb back into the still-warm spot. You move slowly, every single fiber of every muscle in your body is screaming at the slightest movement. Wednesday watches from the side.

She places the tray on the edge of your bed once you've settled in and you bristle when you see that's plated.

"I hate mashed potatoes."

Wednesday ignores your comment as she sits next to the tray. She digs the spoon into the mashed potatoes on the plate and stirs it with the diced meat and gravy. She picks up a spoonful and holds it out to your lips.

"Eating like a poor 18th century eastern European peasant—my ancestors are rolling in their graves." Yet you lean forward to accept what she's offering. "They didn't survive the treat of gulags for me to eat bland mashed potatoes in the 21st century."

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

You lift your hand in front of your mouth and swallow. "Tastes like cardboard." But she doesn't give in to your complaints, only hums and lifts another spoonful to your mouth. You accept it. "The texture's horrible." You accept the next spoonful, too. "I can keep going."

"I have a lot of mashed potato left."

That shuts you up. Instead of arguing, you let her feed you. It's silent, only the sound of the metal spoon scraping against the ceramic plate when she reaches for another spoonful, accompanied by your grumbles when you discover an unmashed potato chunk in your mouth. She hands you a baby carrot once the plate is empty.

You pat the empty space next to you on the bed and shimmy slightly to the side to make more room for her. Your ribs strain and you clamp down on your tongue to keep a pained hiss in your mouth.

Wednesday places the empty plate onto your nightstand and climbs onto your bed. She tentatively lies down, like she's waiting for you to change your mind and reject her, to tell her to get out. You don't, you just break the baby carrot in half and shove both pieces into your mouth at once.

"How come you have a two-person bed?"

That sounds like a safe enough topic to start out on.

You look at her with a raised brow and hand her one of Enid's gaudy pink pillows to rest her head on. You clearly find joy in the face she pulls at it.

"I work in Jericho in the summer. Everyone else goes home and Larissa doesn't want me to sit around for three months, so she said she'd let me get new furniture if I made the money myself. I guess my constant begging was getting annoying."

Wednesday's eyes flicker to your lips. She reluctantly drags her gaze up again.

"What did he say?"

Your face drops. The crease between your eyebrows appears and she wants to reach out to smooth her thumb over it. Instead, her hand tangles into the sheet.

"Doesn't matter."

She sits up, leaning her weight on her hand still tangled with your bedsheet. "So he was just a douche whose girlfriend you flirted with? Another one of your conquests like everyone in school keeps talking about?"

"I think you should leave."

You turn onto your side with a string of swears under your breath and pull the blanket up to your chin. For good measure, you grab one of the stuffed animals Enid had left and bury your face into its soft fur.

Wednesday doesn't move for a few long moments. The seconds tick by on the alarm clock on your nightstand. Finally, she stands, straightening out her sweater, and quietly packs her things. On her way out, she grabs the empty plate.

The door clicks shut behind her and she stands in the hallway. She takes a moment to collect herself, a breath in, a breath out, and adjusts her backpack before she takes the first step towards the stairs at the end of the hall.

Something in her chest aches.

taglist: @stupendousbananajudgeshark @vaeeeel @eclipsesmoonshine14

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #fanfiction #fanfic

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aintnorainbows · 5 months

Text

Good Days (On My Mind)

jey uso x black! afab oc

word count: 783

Summary: Jey helps Julisa destress after another long day in the office.

Tags: oral (f receiving), domestic au sorta?

Warnings: mild swearing, smut

Jey was deeply invested in the round of Tekken he was playing, when he heard keys in the door and his girlfriend Julisa rushed into the house. If he couldn’t tell by the agitated look on her face, the way she threw her stuff to the side made it clear she was not in a good mood.

By the time he finished the round and told his friend Xavier he’d be back online later to play some more, Julisa had re-emerged from the bedroom, out of her expensive work clothes and into comfy house clothes.

Jey licked his lips at the sight of her in those form fitting black shorts and the white tank top with no bra. “Hey baby,” he greeted her, crossing from the living room to the kitchen to kiss her.

“Hey, babe.” she said, gloomily, reaching into the cabinets for pans so she could begin dinner.

“What’s wrong, something happen at the office today?” Jey pulled out a stool to sit at the kitchen island while she talked.

Julisa rolled her eyes, letting out a huff. “They testing me at that job so bad. I’m telling you I'm on the verge of quitting…” she began ranting. She went on and on about her managers, some ‘hatin ass bitch’ named Britt.

Jey was listening, he swore he was listening.

He just couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted down her body as she spoke. And when the ceiling fan sent a small breeze through the room, causing her nipples to harden in that tiny tank top… he got a little distracted.

“Damn that’s crazy,” he found himself saying, finally forcing his eyes away from the bit of her ass cheeks that peeked below her shorts when she turned around to stir the food.

He got up, slowly walking toward her a predatory gleam in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “I been telling you to quit that job tho. Yeen gotta work, I make enough money for the both of us,”

It was true, he came from a successful family construction business. He, his brother and his cousin were handed the business from their fathers and they kept things running smoothly. Money was no object and he told Julisa that all the time.

She sighed, turning around to look up at Jey and run her hands over his wife beater covered chest, “I know, I just like being independent. But, this stress is getting too much.”

He snuck a kiss onto her neck as his hands trailed down to caress her ass. “Let me destress you then,” he said in her ear in that low voice.

He lifted her up, sitting her on the counter, tugging at her shorts. “Jey quit, the food is gonna burn.”

“That’s fine,” he murmured, trailing kisses down her body. “That’s not what I wanna eat anyway,”

He pushed her legs apart, revealing the meal he really wanted to devour. He wasted no time running his tongue up her slit, slurping at the wetness that collected there.

His tongue danced over clit causing her to moan out loudly, “Fuuuck, J-“ his name was cut off with an even louder moan as he sucked the clit into his mouth.

She tried to shut her legs, squeezing around his head as the pleasure became too much for her, but Jey used his strong hands to force them apart, “Keep them legs open girl,” he chastised her, smacking her thigh with one hand.

He continued going to town on her pussy, licking her clit and tongue fucking her hole when he started to feel her breathing begin to shallow. “You gonna come for me?” he breathed, placing a kiss on her soaking pussy before continuing his work.

She nodded vigorously. Jey moaned, reaching a hand up to stick two fingers in her mouth. Her eyes rolled as she sucked them, “Good girl,” he said as she began grinding against his face as she came.

Almost on cue, the smoke detector started going off and the rice had began boiling over onto the stove. Jey rushed over to move everything over, laughing to himself.

“Told you we was gon burn the food.” Julisa complained once she caught her breath, tugging back on her shorts. “Your lil horny ass finna burn down the house cause you wanna eat pussy,”

Jey sucked his teeth, “And you wasn’t saying none of that when you was getting your pussy ate, little ungrateful ass.”

The two laughed, “Now go put on some clothes, so we can go pick up a pizza, I’m starving.” Jey said giving her a kiss and swatting at her backside as she walked away.

@harmshake @bebesobrielo @venusesworld @trc-punzel @unfriendly--blvck--hottie@2-muchsauce @romansnumberonegirl @ariieeesworld @heyitsnajabrinee @afterdarkprincess @southerngirl41

#jey uso #wwe #jey uso x oc #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black!reader #jey uso x black!oc #wwe smut #jey uso smut

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cookie-crumblr · 6 months

Text

The smell of smoke

Innocent F! Reader x M!Yandere Bully OC

Part 1~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part: 1 2

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, reader in a skirt, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, name calling (bitch, slut, ), BULLYING, non con touching-shoving stuff like that, non con exhibitionism, burning, hand gag, non con oral on m!, severe violence against reader, non con foreign object use in vagina, SA by ml!, sadism

“Ooof!” the wind is all knocked from your lungs as you slam yourself into something solid right outside your dorm room door.

“Want sum bitch!?” A tall, strawberry blonde guy shouts as he shoves you away from him.

Your poor body slams into a wall, you squint at the pain and at the same time a lewd warmth starts to seep between your legs.

A fist punches the wall above your head causing your eyes to shoot open.

“hah, this bitch thinks she’s cute or sumthin’” His other hand roughly pulls your skirt up by the hem, showing your little-white-ribbon-having panties to all his friends.

They laugh and leer at you.

“Oh, what’s this,” His fingers roughly press under your hood, “She’s fucking wet, what a slut. Trynna look all innocent an shit” he spits.

In one blink he’s roughly assaulting you, the next he’s leaving with his friends laughing about you on the way.

You fix your clothes as you stare after them and try to calm your racing heart.

At least you won’t see him again…

You make it to your class only a minute late, and find a seat open in the back.

While you doodle puppies in the margins instead of taking notes, that same guy slams down a book on the table next to you.

You glance up to his chilling smile, “Listen bitch, I know you want this,” He grabs his crotch, “but I’m not fuckin’ interested, gotit? so move.”

“Th-there aren’t a-any seats op-” you peep before being cut off-

“Not my problem.” He sits and leans back, his ankle crossing his knee.

From a pocket somewhere he pulls a pack of cigarettes, and sparks one, his curious and agitated eyes not leaving yours.

The professor walks in at the same moment “Ezra, put it out.” he says without even turning to look.

In that moment his big hand covers your entire mouth forcefully, his lips come close to your ear, “Don’t scream, or else,”

As you grunt out in confusion and reach up to try and pry off his hand, you feel the searing hot pain of him putting out his cig on your thigh.

The pain is white hot, searing and blinding.

Your scream is muffled by his hand, and tears prick at your eyes.

Nobody even turns to look.

You claw at his hand.

His breath tickles your neck, “I said~ Don’t. Fucking. Scream.”

Goosebumps prickle all over your flesh.

“Now yer gonna get it, bitch” he nips at your ear while his finger trails your jaw. A shiver ripples through you.

For just a second too long he gazes into your eyes, your heart beats thunder in your ears.

You’re a frozen deer staring into the headlights of your doom.

Ezra moves a hand to your throat and tightly squeezes. You strain to breathe and fail to notice him opening his pants.

he shoves your face down into his lap.

For a second you can breathe and you gasp, trying to take in any air at all, and instead getting a throat full of dick.

“Mmmf!!!!!” Your throat contracts painfully.

He pushes his hips up and your head down further so that your nose presses against his thigh.

You can’t breathe at all!

He knows it and rotates his hips, grinding into your face harder before he pulls you off of him enough to get some air finally.

That doesn’t last long before you’re shoved back down.

It feels as though he doesn’t even want to come. He’s literally just holding you there to torture you.

You get only the air he allows you.

Tears roll helplessly down your face, mixing with snot and saliva alike.

This lasts the entire class period. Him keeping your puffy lips pressed against his body, and only giving you air when you’re just about to black out.

It didn’t take long for you to just give up the fight entirely.

He finally lifts you off, his still rock hard dick bobs as you leave it, before standing straight back up.

He lets you drop onto your desk.

You let out a shaking groan, while you catch your breath.

“Not gonna give anything t’a bitch like you,” he stands to leave and spits onto your back.

You run from the room, to the relative safety of the laboratories.

In the reflection you inspect your bloodshot eyes, and the red spots on your face from the oxygen deprivation.

Remarkably, you make your next class on time.

Though, your heart pounds, terrified of the possibility that he could just walk through these doors too.

Thankfully, he doesn’t.

The rest off the day passes without incident but the memory stains you. It keeps flashing through your head. you keep sighing deeply, the air you’re getting not feeling like enough.

You’re zoned out while you walk to your dorm room, not even feeling happy to finally be so close to your bed, so close to salvation…

Everything good left in the world is torn from your reality completely, and utterly when your book bound arms slowly bump into the back of someone once again.

You know who it is before you even focus your eyes…

Your body shakes violently as you begin to sob again.

“You just don’ fuckin’ learn, do you, bitch?”

“What’s this chick’s problem?”

“Yeah, she obsessed with you or sumthin’?”

“Dunno. wha’ d’ya say? Ya obsessed with me, slut?” his head tilts as he smirks.

You continue to cry and sob louder and louder.

“The fuck? We’re talkin’ t’ya, bitch,” his smirk morphs into a snarl.

“I-I-I’m s-sorryyyyyy” you stumble over your words as you choke over your tears.

“Did I ask fur a fuckin’ apology?” He grips your hair and slams your head into a cement brick wall.

“Ahh haaaaa!!! Noo!! P-leaseeee!! Nno!” You plead desperately while you try and weakly push your body away from the wall, blood pours from your forehead into your eyes. The blood burns and makes you squint, your vision blurred and crimson.

He pulls you up to his slightly tilted face by your scalp, “Choose your next words carefully, bitch” his breath tickles your lips.

“S-s—sorr-yyyy” you don’t know what you did to deserve this. You don’t know what he wants from you. and you honestly don’t know what is going to happen now.

“This your room?” he uses your jaw to spin your head painfully around, “Get her fucking keys.”

His friends surround you both as hands grope you and fondle areas that definitely don’t have pockets until the jingle of metals can be heard.

You’re still sobbing and his hand is still grasping a fist full of your locks.

The one with the keys unlocks the door, and you all flood into the room, Ezra forcing you forward.

Your roommate wakes up from her nap in shock, “Wh-what’s going on!?”

“Get ‘er out.” He commands his friends, as he throws you onto your bed. “Somebody get this bitch’s clothes off. Now”

“Y/N!!!! Y/N, Oh my gods—Stop!!!!” Your roommate screams as the force the door into her face.

His eyes scan the room as he lights up another cigarette. He finds the first thing he can shove into your vagina, and grabs it.

You’ve been kicking and pleading for them to stop as they stripped you. “hold her down.” he says, and they do.

Whether you’re lucky or unlucky is up to you, as he holds up a wooden handled broom from the corner before snapping it in half.

“N-no!”

He throws the half with the sweeper away and comes at you with the other.

“Which end bitch?” he holds the thing up for you to see.

“ROUND!” Your brain at least works when it desperately needed to.

“Glad you’re finally fucking getting it,” The broom handle still struggles to go in despite how wet you are.

He shoves past where your body wants it to stop.

He shoves it in and out of you while his friends hold your limbs spread apart.

He pinches and slaps your clit, bruising your mound.

Your body convulses as you cum, Ezra shoves it in as hard as he can before backing up and pulling out his phone.

His friends continue to hold you as he snaps a few pictures of your body, with your pussy exposed, and a broken handle sticking out of you.

You twitch in their final grasps, before Ezra flicks his still lit cigarette at you, and they let go.

He practically rips the door off the hinges and he ducks to leave.

Your roommate rushes in after they’re gone and calls an ambulance for you.

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