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#i have to stop at the bookstore after work
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I hadn't read that one!
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Despite an initially awkward interaction in your favourite bookstore, maybe things start going well for you after meeting that handsome stranger.
a/n. My academic anxiety allowed me to finish this! Maybe it's because this type of situations it's all I need right now. 😩 I would really appreciate if you tell me if you liked and your opinions about it! Any advice would be appreciated. And please, remember English is not my first language.
Word count: 1.2k
You entered your favourite bookstore, knowing that you were going to buy something even if you didn’t plan on it. You went there a lot, it was on your way home from work and always a comfort place for you.
“Hi, Y/N! Are you buying something today?” The booksellers already knew you and you could even consider them as friends, you can’t remember how many times you just went inside only for a chat with them when the place was empty of customers. “It’s been a week since the last book I bought, so… you know I will.” You laugh knowing it was impossible to leave with empty hands.
You went to your most loved section, the fantasy one. The hunger games, The maze runner, A court of thorns and roses… Oh, how you loved those books. You were too focused on the book titles that you missed someone, only noticing the person when you bumped into him. “Oh my god! I’m sorry! I didn’t see you! I’m so so sorry!” You looked up to the man staring at you and, oh god, he was captivating. His blue eyes were the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. 
He looked at you and nodded, not saying anything. He stared at you for a few seconds and then he went back to his task of checking the book in his hands, The Hobbit. You hadn’t read that one. “Nice book, I guess, I hadn’t read that one!” He looked at you and nodded again. Realising he wasn’t going to say anything, you kept reading more titles until you decided for one. 
“So, today I'm choosing this one, The invisible life of Addie LaRue, have you read it?” You asked the bookseller as you pay. You love to talk about books. You both start a conversation about it, but you couldn’t stop looking at where that handsome man was. You hoped to see him again, maybe not bump into him… or doing it, no matter how as long as you saw him again.
The next day, after having an awful day at work, you stopped again at your favourite place at the same hour, again. “Hey guys, today it's just looking! I need some distraction.” They nodded in your direction, understanding that some days, you just needed your books, not talking, not socialising, just books. Or that’s what they thought. 
You did in fact need someone, someone that you didn’t have. You longed for someone like the men you read about, someone to love you like Hozier loves in his songs. Those days at work were the absolute worst, your boss being an asshole to you and without someone waiting for you at home for some cuddles to forget about everything else. So you searched for that comfort in books, alone.
You went again to the fantasy section, surprised (and excited) to see someone familiar there. It was the same man you’d bumped into the previous day. Should you say something? Maybe apologise again? “Hey! Hi again! I bumped into you yesterday… sorry about that again.” You cringed at yourself, you regretted starting to talk. “Hi, yeah, I remember, don’t worry.”
Oh. My. God. His voice. That’s all you could think about. You didn’t know what to say so you stayed there looking at him and wanting to disappear. “I’m Y/N, by the way, not that you care, but… yeah, hi.” You were two sentences away from punching yourself right in the face. Why couldn’t you just shut up? It wasn’t that hard, was it?
“Bucky.” Oh god, he was making clear that he didn’t want to keep talking, you were definitely annoying him. He didn’t deny that he didn’t care. “Well, nice to meet you, Bucky, I’ll let you keep looking.” 
You saw that he was looking at some of the books you were looking at yesterday and you were curious about it. Was he doing it because he saw you? Or your delusional self was speaking? After some time wandering in between books, you decided it’s time for you to go home. You looked around to see if Bucky was still around but you didn’t see him. 
Another day, another visit to the bookstore. This time you were excited about seeing someone. Was Bucky going to be there? You wanted to see him again, maybe talk to him if you felt brave enough. When you entered the bookstore, you searched for him, but he wasn’t there. One of your bookseller friends saw you enter and immediately called you. 
“Y/N! I have something for you!” For you? What could it be? A new book that could be interesting for you? “Oh! What is it?” You didn’t understand the smile she was giving you. She handed you a book and a note. You read it.
Dear Y/N, 
You told me you didn’t read The Hobbit, I think it’s time for you to do it. I guess I’m too coward to tell you this in person.
Bucky
You then looked at the book in your hands, The Hobbit. No way! You couldn’t believe what was happening. “Did he… leave this here? For me?” You couldn’t think straight, but the librarian understood what was going through your mind. “Yes Y/N!! He did!! He looked so nervous when he handed me everything! He bought the book just for you!” You were blushing so hard. 
You decided then that you were going to go home right at that moment to start the book, it felt like a way to connect with him. You were slightly disappointed that it wasn’t him the one who handed you the book in person, but you couldn’t stop thinking that it was so cute how he did it. You were now excited to see him again to talk about the book, so you had to start it right now.
After arriving home you prepared yourself for a good reading session. You opened the book and saw a post-it on the first page. 
Oh, and by the way, I’m not gonna be in the city this week, so here’s my number in case you want to talk about it while reading it ;). 
Bucky, again.
His phone number was there. You let out an excited squeal. This was better than any romance novel you’ve ever read because this was real. THIS WAS REAL! You lost no time in adding him in your contacts and sending him a message.
Y/N: hi! Y/N here :). thank you for the book, excited to read it!
Bucky📚: Hey, Y/N. Hope you enjoy it ;). Keep me updated.
You were giggling and kicking your feet, you were actually texting the hot guy you met at the bookstore!
Y/N: i will! but… maybe i also want to talk about it in person…🤭
Bucky📚: When I come back to town, I would 
like that too, maybe with a coffee?
Sweet mother of pearl! Was he asking you out? You couldn’t think about what to say.
Bucky📚: Like a date.
Oh. He was asking you out! Time to focus, you think to yourself.
Y/N: sure, i would like that :). 
Y/N: now let me start my book! ;)
Maybe this could be the start of something interesting. Maybe you finally founded the man of your dreams.
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yououghtaknow · 1 year
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they weren’t lying, that going outside, talking to people, going on a walk to get a little drink from the gas station really helps your mental health
#went to the writing thing!!! got a GOOD amount of work done did a Quick Sweep of my second act to edit more in depth later#and talked to some cool people about art and gender and disability and politics and stuff!!!!!!!#it's Nice being around people who aren't My People because i feel like i'm allowed to have opinions#ANYWAYS my bpd has been spiking because of [redacted] doing [redacted] and [redacted] and [redacted]#BUT i have evening plans of watching adventuring party and planning out more Long Term work <3#ALSO I BOUGHT MYSELF A NON-SAFE DRINK AND I LIKED IT#as in not one of my safe foods#i got a little strawberry yogurty drink thing and it was really nice!!!! AND it was only 90p!!!!!#and i walked home as the sun set and it was really nice even though i got lost because i was in a part of the city i'm not used to#BUT i managed to navigate all by myself (by following bus stops of the bus i got up to the place)#currently feeling very in my bejeweled era. feeling very i miss you but i miss sparkling!!!!!!!#i love discovering myself again after Trauma and Horrors. sadly this will probably all go away on saturday but we stay silly!!!1#i just feel more like a Person when i'm on my own or with people i'm not close to#ALSO I BOUGHT A BOOK TODAY#it was one of my favourite poets and i got to talk about him with the bookstore owners and it was so nice to have people Understand#AND I TALKED ABOUT WRITING PLAYS WITH A GUY WHO WAS ALSO WORKING ON HIS PLAY#we talked about being actor-writers and Bridging The Gap of the two mediums#he also recommended me some workshops i was going to sign up for anyway but it was nice of him :)#i LOVE being in queer and neurodivergent spaces!!!!!#i was very shy and socially anxious but i was able to approach people and have conversations the whole time!!!!#i did sit on my own to do my work but i preferred it that way :) i also needed so much table space for all my pages#ANYWAYS. rambling over. had a nice evening. this is my little journal entry :)
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francisforever2014 · 1 year
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walking around campus without headphones should be classified as a form of torture
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thethief1996 · 6 months
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Israel has cut water, electricity and food to Palestinians in Gaza. They are buying 10.000 M16 rifles and plan to distribute to civilian settlers in the West Bank to hunt down Palestinians. They're bombing the only way out of Gaza through Egypt, after telling refugees to flee through it, and have threatened the Egyptian government in case they let aid trucks pass through. Entire families, generations, are being wiped out and left to wander the streets hoping they don't get bombed.
Palestinians are using their last minutes of battery to let the world know about their genocide and are being met with a wall of "What about Hamas? What about the beheaded babies? Killing children on either side is bad!" even though the propaganda claims have been debunked over and over again. How cruel is it to ask somebody to condemn themselves before their last words? Or before grieving the loss of their entire families? When there's no such disclaimer to Israelis even though their government has shown over and over genocidal intent? Like who are you even trying to appease? What will your wishy washy statement do against decades of zionist thought infiltrating evangelical and Jewish stablishmemts?
Take action. Israel will fall back if public opinion turns its tide. The UK fell back on its bloody decision to cut aid to Palestine under public scrutiny. The USAmerican empire spends $3.8 billion dollars annually solely on this proxy war while its people suffer under a progressively military regime as well. News outlets are canceling last minute on Palestinian speakers while letting Israelis tell lies unchecked. Palestinian refugees are being targeted in ICE establishments and mosques are already being hounded by the FBI. France and Germany have banned pro-Palestine protests, while Netherlands and the UK have placed restrictions . You have the chance to stop this from turning into repeat of the Iraq war.
I want to do something but there's hardly anything for me to do from Brasil besides spreading the word and not letting these testimonies fall on deaf ears. I'm asking you to do this same ant work from wherever you are.
Follow:
Eye On Palestine (instagram / twitter)
Mohammed El-Kurd (instagram / twitter)
Decolonize Palestine (website with a chronological explanation of the occupation and debunking myths)
Muhammad Shehada (twitter)
Plestia Alaqad (directly from Gaza. Many of her videos are interrupted by bombs)
If there's a protest in your city, please attend. Here's an international calendar of events:
Friday, October 13
ALBUQUERQUE, NM (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 3 pm, UNM Bookstore, University of New Mexico. Organized by Southwest Coalition for Palestine.
BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA (US) – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, Sproul Hall (Vigil), University of California Berkeley. Organized by Bears for Palestine.
DOUAIS, FRANCE – Fri Oct 13, 6:30 pm, Place de’Armes.
GOTHENBURG, SWEDEN – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Brunnsparken. Organized by Palestinska samordningsgruppen Gothenburg.
GREENSBORO, NC (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 4 pm, Wendover Village, 4203 W Wendover Ave, Greensboro, NC. Organized by Muslims for a Better NC.
LONDON, ENGLAND – Fri Oct 13, 5 pm, Keir Starmer’s Office, Crowndale Center, 218 Eversholt St, London. Organized by IJAN UK.
MEANJIN/BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, King George Square.
MIAMI, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Bayfront Park. Organized by Troika Kollectiv.
NAPOLI, ITALY – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Piazza Garibaldi, Napoli. Organized by GPI and Centro Culturale Handala Ali.
NGUNNAWAL/CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Carema Place.
PERTH/BOORLOO, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct. 13, 5:30 pm, Murray Street Hall, Boorloo/Perth. Organized by Friends of Palestine WA.
PORTLAND, OREGON (US) – Fri Oct 13, 3 pm, 1200-1220 SW 5th Ave, Portland.
PORT RICHEY, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 7:30 am, Route 19 and Ridge Road, Port Richey. Sponsored by: Florida Peace Action Network; Partners for Palestine; CADSI
PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA – Friday, Oct. 13, 7 pm, UP Main Campus, DSA Building opposite Thuto. Organized by PSC UP.
WITSWATERSRAND UNIVERSITY (SOUTH AFRICA) – Fri Oct 13, 1 pm, Great Hall Piazza, Flag demonstration. Organized by Wits PSC.
Saturday, October 14
ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, St. Nichlas Square. Organized by Scottish PSC.
AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Aotea Square, Queens St, 291-2997 Queen St. Organized by PSN Aotearoa.
DETROIT/DEARBORN, MICHIGAN (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Ford Woods Park, 5700 Greenfield Road. Organized by SAFE, PYM, SJP, Handala Coalition, more.
DUNDEE, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, Place TBA. Organized by Scottish PSC.
EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct 14, 2 pm, Princes Street at Foot of the Mound. Organized by Scottish PSC.
FRANKFURT, GERMANY – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm Hauptwache, Frankfurt am Main. Sponsored by Palestina eV, Migrantifa Rhein-Main and more.
GLASGOW, SCOTLAND – Sat. Oct 14, 2 pm, Buchanan Steps. Organized by Scottish PSC.
HOUSTON, TEXAS (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, City Hall, 901 Bagby St. Organizd by PYM, PAC, USPCN, SJP and more.
LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND – Sat Oc 14, 12 pm, Church St. Organized by FRFI.
LONDON, ENGLAND – Sat Oct 14, 12 pm, BBC Portland Place, London. Organized by a broad coalition.
MILANO, ITALY – Sat. Oct 14, 3:30 pm, Piazza San Babila. Organized by Young Palestinians of Italy, UDAP, Palestinian Community, Association of Palestinians.
ORLANDO, FLORIDA – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm, Lake Eola at Robinson and Eola, Orland. Organized by Florida Palestine Network.
TORINO, ITALY – Sat. Oct. 14, 3 pm, Piazza Crispi. Organized by Progetto Palestina.
VALPARAISO, CHILE – Sat Oct 14, 6 pm, Plaza Victoria, Valparaiso. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.
WASHINGTON, DC (US) – Sat Oct 14, 1 pm, Lafayette Square. Organized by AMP.
Sunday, October 15
AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, March from Dam Square to Jonas Daniel Meijer plein.
NAARM/MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, State Library Victoria.
TARDANYA/ADELAIDE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, Parliament House.
AUSTIN, TEXAS (US) – Sun Oct 15, 3 pm, Texas Capitol. Organized by PSC ATX.
GADIGAL/SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 1 pm, Sydney Town Hall.
SANTIAGO, CHILE -Sun Oct 15, 11 am, Plaza Dignidad, Santiago. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.
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cupid-styles · 4 months
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only angel 2 (tattoorry/plugrry)
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part two of tattorry is here!!!!! read part one here
in which y/n's parents still suck, harry can't stop thinking about his girl, and maybe there's a chance this'll all work out
word count: 8.5k
content warnings: angst (all solved in the end!), minor mentions of dieting/controlled eating, y/n has really awful parents (spoiler: there is one scene where her mom slaps her), weed mentions, a terrible date (one minor but inappropriate scene with unwanted non-sexual touching), smut (fingering, f receiving oral, dirty talk, spitting, tiniest bit of daddy kink)
masterlist | talk to me
. . .
As soon as Y/N's mother zeroes in on Harry's grasp around her daughter's waist, everything moves at a blurry pace. 
In an instant, her hand is curled around Y/N's wrist, yanking her away from one of the only sources of comfort she's ever had. She gasps when she pulls her through the door and outside the bookstore, bile rising in her throat as her brain slowly pieces things together. She got caught. Applying to a job. With Harry holding her hand.
She's never going to be able to see him again.
Harry's quick to follow them outside, his mind whirring just as quickly.
"Excuse me!" he calls out as Y/N's mom drops her grasp from her, a stern expression on her face. She doesn't even look in Harry's direction but Y/N immediately blinks at him, her eyes wide with fear. "Excuse me, are you Y/N's mom?"
"Who the hell are you?" she hisses, instantly batting him away the second he takes a step forward. Y/N's chest feels tight as she clamors for words, panic rising in her throat.
"My name is Harry. I know your daughter—"
"Like hell you do." she spits, her eyes squinted and beady as she looks over Harry's appearance. It's clear on Y/N's face that she's never been this mortified before, but she can only hope it's because she got caught, not because she got caught with Harry. "I don't know what nonsense you've gotten yourself into, Y/N, but consider it done. We're going home."
The words are on the tip of Y/N's tongue — no, stop, please, I care about him, you don't understand — but the fear of her mother is too paralyzing. Again, her manicured fingers wrap tightly around Y/N's wrist and she pulls at her, making her stumble. 
"Wait— Y/N, you can't seriously—"
"Enough," her mom sneers, tightening her grip, "What do you want? Money? Is that what you're after?"
"What?! No, I told you, I know Y/N—"
"Do you go to school with her? She knows better than to socialize with tattooed lowlives."
His jaw drops and his eyes dart back and forth from Y/N to her mother. Tears line her waterline and she sniffles, looking helpless and desperate — and Harry knows, he can see it right in front of his face how awful her parents are, that they're blatantly abusive and terrible people just because they have money, but for the first time, he actually feels anger bubble up in his throat. Not at her mom, but at Y/N.
"No, I don't go to school with her. Y/N, are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?" he asks, an unusually harsh edge sharpening his voice. 
Since this entire thing began, there's space for Y/N to speak — to potentially defend herself, defend Harry, or to do what she's always done and follow her mother's orders. She knows what she wants to do. Harry knows what he wants her to do.
But instead of taking any action, she flounders.
Harry can see it in her eyes — panic ravishing her body as she opens and closes her mouth like a fish. Normally, he'll tease her for that, but this time, he would do anything to hear her say something. Anything. 
"Clearly you don't know one another at all. Y/N, we're going home. Now."
With a final yank, Y/N falls pliant in her mother's wishes, following her down the street to wherever her car is parked. Harry watches them walk away, sure that she'll turn around and come running back to him.
It's only when their forms become mixed in with the rest of the busy Manhattan sidewalk, little blobs he can barely make out, that he realizes she's not. 
. . .
Y/N doesn't think she's ever felt so shitty in her life.
Her parents have disciplined her in the past for much smaller things — taking her car to campus, missing one of the dates they set up for her. Punishment always came in the form of the silent treatment paired with the confiscation of her car keys and the understanding that she was forbidden to leave the apartment. 
This time is so much worse. 
The second her mother unlocks her car and Y/N climbs in, she's on the receiving end of a piercing slap. She immediately winces and reaches up to cup her stinging cheek, tears streaming down her face from the image of Harry's hurt expression permanently seared into her memory. When she looks at the woman, she's seething.
"You're a disgrace."
Those are the only words she speaks to her the entire drive home.
When they get home, her mother is quick to lay down the ground rules: She's done with graduate school — according to her, they trusted her to know better and solely focus on her education, but they can't rely on her any longer. She'll start working at their company immediately. She'll go out on a date with Arthur Franklin, do what he wants, and marry into their family as soon as humanly possible. And lastly, she's never to be seen with "that boy" or anyone who looks like him ever again.
In two minutes, her life is drawn out for her in the most terrifying way. But she doesn't fight her. She knows it's a losing battle — one that her mother has been winning her entire life. Harry gave her a beautiful experience. He showed her what her life could have been like if she wasn't so scared. 
And when she goes to bed that evening, without dinner of course (her parents gave Freya strict instructions not to make her a portion or allow her to cook anything in the kitchen), she cries for him.
She lets her tears soak into her pillow, dampening the fabric with every sob that breaks free from her chest, and desperately hopes that he doesn't hate her, even if she never sees him again. 
. . .
To: Y/N, 11.19.23, 11:32 a.m.
It's been a few days.. just checking in to make sure you're doing okay.
To: Y/N, 11.20.23, 8:49 a.m.
Please just send me a text so I know you're alright. 
To: Y/N, 11.22.23, 10:28 p.m.
Hey. I'm gonna wait outside your lecture hall tomorrow. I need to know you're okay. Please tell me if you don't want me to come, but I really need to see you. 
To: Y/N, 11.23.23, 4:03 p.m.
Did you skip class today?
To: Y/N, 11.26.23, 1:28 a.m.
If you're avoiding me, that's fine, but this is driving me insane... please just give me a sign or something so I know you're okay. Please Y/N. You can't do this.
. . .
"I just think your father is a great businessman! He's one of the smartest men I've ever worked for and I think we could do something incredible together. Don't you think?"
Y/N gulps down another large sip of wine, flashing a tight smile to Arthur. She never drinks, but she decided that if she was getting through the night, alcohol would serve as a much-needed crutch. They're currently at some smarmy restaurant on the Upper East Side — apparently there's a waitlist of three months, but Arthur was able to just "make a call" and get them a reservation. Y/N thinks she was supposed to be impressed by that, but she could really care less.
It's been a week and a half since she saw Harry last. She never knew heartbreak could be so excruciating, but that line of thinking occurred before she met him. 
In the 27 minutes since their date began — yes, Y/N's been counting — Arthur has only talked about her father. How incredible and smart he is, how he runs such a great business, how he can't wait to have a higher position in the company. 
"Did you hear me?" Arthur asks, stuffing another piece of bread in his mouth. 
"Yeah," she says curtly. "Sorry, did you want me to call my father so you could date him instead?"
Arthur forces out an awkward laugh. "You know, your mom said you had an unusual sense of humor... guess that's just part of your charm, huh?"
Y/N shrugs her shoulders as she picks at her pasta. She's looking straight ahead, eyes empty and zoning out when she thinks she sees a familiar head of long, unruly curls. She perks up, straightening her posture, ignoring Arthur when he assumes her change in body language is in response to whatever nonsense he's droning on about. 
She wills the figure to turn around, her heart tugging — but when he does a mere moment later, she realizes it's not him, just someone with a similar haircut. Her shoulders slump, blinking as she watches the man gently guide his date to their table. 
"Are you okay?" 
Snapping out of her thoughts, she redirects her attention to Arthur. She swallows and nods her head. 
"Yeah. Sorry, thought I saw someone I know."
He hums. "Hm, probably not. Like I said, this restaurant a three-month long waitlist. No one you know could be here."
"Right." she mutters. She drops her fork, suddenly feeling sick, and Arthur's eyes snap up at the clattering sound the metal makes against the ceramic plate. 
"Be careful," he hisses, "This is a nice place, Y/N."
The sting to his tone is instantly reminiscent of her own parents' discipline. She cowers, mumbling out a half-hearted apology, and when she looks up to see his squinted eyes analyzing her every feature, anxiety is quick to spread through her chest and up her throat.
She knew it before tonight — that Arthur was essentially just an extension of her parents, but the fear and apprehension of leaving her family was too paralyzing. But in an instant, it clicked. 
Sitting across from her, Arthur just looks so mean. A curl to his lips, an expression of disgust painted across his face as he studies her, his mouth open in preparation to scold her again. 
She can't do this for the rest of her life. 
She refuses to do this for the rest of her life. 
Her heart is beating out of her chest, shaky hands grabbing the napkin folded neatly in her lap. She places it on the table, moving slowly in hopes that he won't notice, even if she knows it's impossible. 
"What are you doing?"  he asks tightly, eyebrows lowering as she stands from the table. 
"I... I have to do something," Y/N mumbles, "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"What?" Arthur snaps, digging into his pocket to grab his wallet, throwing a few hundred dollar bills down on the table as she rushes out of the restaurant. He's quick to follow her, his stride much larger and faster than hers. He reaches out to grab her elbow and pulls her form to press against his body in the entryway. She gasps out in surprise, freezing her movements. 
"Where are you going?" Arthur repeats through gritted teeth. "We're not done. We're on a date, Y/N."
She swallows and shakes her head jerkily, "I have to do something, I'm sorry, please let me go—"
"Your parents made a deal with me." he says, nostrils flaring, "You're done running. You're mine now."
Her stomach drops. A deal? She's not some kind of pawn in their game and she's not an object that can be moved around whenever they want. In an act of anger, she yanks her arm away from his grasp, taking a step back. 
"I'm not yours. I'm not anybody's. Whatever deal you made with my parents is off."
She grabs the door handle and pushes it open, leaving Arthur — and whatever fucked up future they had planned for her — behind. 
. . .
Harry hasn't been sleeping well. 
It's from a combination of factors, but primarily, it's being on the receiving end of Y/N's silent treatment. He didn't think she would ever do this to him, but maybe he was too naive, looking at their relationship through rose-colored lenses and assuming she'd be strong enough to reject her parents in favor of him.
How stupid.
He sighs and glances at the clock on the wall of his office. When he was seeing Y/N, he never stayed at the shop later than 6 or 7, usually because she wanted to get home before her parents started to wonder. These days, he stays behind until midnight, trying to occupy himself with work so he doesn't have to go home and think about her.
And at first, he thinks he's hallucinating. Who would be knocking on the door to the shop at 9:30, especially with the clear and apparent closed sign? But then the fists get louder, and he wonders if it's someone drunk or high, looking to get a tattoo. (That certainly wouldn't be happening.)
Finally, he hears it — the faintest of familiar voices calling out his name, and he realizes he may not be imagining it. 
He forces himself out, taking large footsteps to the front, his heart beating rapidly when he sees the helpless girl pounding on the door. Quickly, he unlocks it through furrowed brows, immediately letting her in when he sees the distress on her face. 
"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, pulling Y/N inside. "What happened?"
Dried tears leave marks down the apples of her cheeks, her mascara clumpy and stained around her eyes. She sniffles and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Y/N, what's going on?" he repeats before locking the door back up. Carefully, he places a hand to the small of her back and guides her to the back, where his office is. He wordlessly encourages her to sit down on the blue velvet couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge and handing it to her. 
"They're awful," she stammers, "My parents... I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Just tell me what happened," Harry murmurs, carefully rubbing the area between her shoulder blades, "Why are you crying? Did they do something? Are you hurt?"
She shrugs, eyes falling to her lap. "Everything's been terrible." she whispers. "They had me go on a date with someone they want me to marry — when I wanted to leave, he told me that my parents made a deal with him. That I'm his now."
"A deal?" Harry repeats, anger quickly bubbling under his skin, "What does that fucking mean?"
"I don't know. I didn't know about it until tonight."
"Did he do anything to you?" he asks, doing a quick once-over of her appearance. She doesn't look hurt, but she does look beautiful. It makes jealousy rise from the pit of his stomach, knowing she got dressed up for somebody else.
"No. He was really mean, but," she sniffles, shrugging again, "I don't know. He grabbed me."
"Where?" Harry growls. "Where did he grab you?"
Her eyes widen, "J-just my arm. When I was trying to leave, he, um, grabbed my elbow and pulled me back against him."
"Let me see."
Y/N wants to tell him that she's fine, immediately trying to downplay the act, but on the cab ride over, she had time to process how gross it made her feel. That he felt it was appropriate to touch her in that way just because she didn't want to be there — so she allows him to cautiously push up the sleeve of her sweater, analyzing the slightly reddened skin where his hand had been. 
"You're not seeing him again," he mutters, carefully putting her arm down. He reaches over into his desk drawer and grabs a small container of Neosporin, dabbing a bit on the mark and rubbing it in with gentle fingertips. "I don't care if your parents want you to marry him. You will not be with someone who hurts you, Y/N."
"I know," she whispers, "I told him that I wasn't his. That whatever deal they had is off."
Harry's eyes widen. "You did?"
"Yes." she nods sullenly, "I realized that... well, I wanted to leave because I wanted to come see you. I don't want them to control me anymore. I want my own life."
"That's... that's huge, Y/N," Harry murmurs, resisting the urge to surge forward and wrap his arms around her, "What are you gonna do?"
She shrugs. "I haven't gotten that far yet, I guess. But the first step was seeing you and apologizing for that day with my mom."
"It hurt," he admits quietly. "Seeing you walk away... but I guess I didn't fully understand just how bad it was."
"I never wanted to walk away. They just scare me so much. She... she slapped me when we got in the car."
"Dovie," Harry breathes out, the pet name slipping from his mouth, "That's unacceptable, you know that, right? They're abusive."
"I do. I know they're bad." she pauses, swallowing harshly. "I don't want to go back there tonight."
Harry shakes his head. "You're never going back there at all." 
. . .
Harry's apartment is cozy. 
Y/N should have assumed as much, being that his mere presence essentially feels like a warm hug. But when he takes her back to his place and he hesitantly locks the door, murmuring out an apology about how messy things are, she can't but smile gently at all the very Harry decor touches: A record player next to a large collection of his favorite albums, framed pictures and polaroids tacked up onto his fridge of his friends, family, and loved ones, and just about ten cozy throw blankets and pillows strewn across his couch. 
He apologizes for how small it is and Y/N scoffs — she couldn't care less about the size of his place, instead being completely enamored by the fact that it's his.
She's analyzing the refrigerator door, eyes glued to a photo strip of him and his sister when she feels a gentle hand at her hip, giving it a squeeze. 
"Do you wanna change, dove?" Harry asks quietly, his breath ghosting over the back of her neck. 
She nods, pinching at the fabric of her dress. Suddenly, her tights feel too restrictive and her feet ache from the heels her mother forced her into hours earlier. 
"I don't have any clothes, though."
He chuckles lightly. "I can give you some, silly." 
"Are you sure?" Y/N asks, turning to look at him. Her lips part nervously when she sees how close he is to her. "You're already doing so much for me tonight."
"What, would you prefer to waltz around naked, then?"
Her signature blush appears in seconds and it makes a lopsided grin appear nearly instantly on Harry's face. He can tell that she's about to whine his name out in her typical chagrined way and he laughs. 
"Kidding, princess," he mumbles, "But I wouldn't mind if you wanted to."
"You're too much." Y/N grumbles, though the small smile on her lips says differently. She couldn't deny how much she missed Harry over the past two weeks — not only the place he holds in her life, but from a physical, intimate standpoint, too.
"C'mon, I'll get you some sweats."
She follows him to his bedroom, her stomach prickling with nerves as he guides her to the bed, instructing her to take a seat. He traipses over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a baggy tee-shirt. It says hot and heavy on the back, and she remembers she blushed just from reading it the first time she saw him wear it.
He gives her a moment of privacy to change, shutting the bedroom door quietly. With a deep breath, she kicks her heels off, peels her tights down her legs, and pulls her dress up and over her body. It's a relief to finally change into cozy clothes that smell like Harry, and she can't believe she's really here — when they were seeing each other before, she'd dreamt of being able to go over to his house and see what it looked like. She was always just too scared that her parents would find her, or even call the cops when she didn't come home early enough.
Now, she still cares, but it feels like Harry's there to protect her — and that makes it seem a little less scary.
There's a knock at the door, pulling her from her thoughts. With her old clothes folded up neatly, she opens it, revealing a sleepy looking Harry. 
"All changed?" 
She nods, opening the door a little wider to reveal her appearance. His jaw drops and a single "fuck" leaves his lips.
Y/N's eyes widen, worried that she's done something wrong. Quickly, he flounders, stammering like she normally does. 
"Are you alright?" she asks, a look of concern covering her face. He nods, swallowing harshly.
"Um. Yeah, sorry." he coughs into his hand, "Fuck, this is embarrassing— you just— um, you look really fucking hot in my clothes."
She raises her eyebrows, glancing down at the outfit. His sweatpants pool at her ankles and the shirt, which is oversized on his torso, goes down to the middle of her thighs. She supposes he may be able to see her breasts through the white fabric of the tee, but otherwise, she doesn't understand why it's such an attractive sight to him.
"Shit, I need to— I'm sorry, Y/N, this definitely isn't what you need tonight—" he's inching backwards and towards the bathroom on the side of the hallway when she sees it — a very large and apparent erection straining through his black jeans. 
"Oh," she mumbles, "Do you...? We can, like, do stuff if you... if you wanted..."
"No!" he groans, turning to face the wall and pressing his forehead against it, "Just— no, dovie, thank you for the offer but I just feel like I'd be taking advantage of you after such a long night, yeah? So lemme just— I'm gonna take care of this in the bathroom and you can get comfy in the bed, okay?"
He's gone in a flash, the bathroom door locked before she even has a chance to reply. She bites her lip, hoping he's not secretly annoyed at her for asking if he wanted to do something sexual. She's too tired to overthink it though, so she turns on her heel, walks back into his room, and climbs under the blankets.
She's nearly asleep when he returns, soft footsteps padding across the length of the wood floors. She hears a quiet whisper of her name and she peeks an eye open to see Harry standing over her. 
"'m gonna sleep outside on the couch, but let me know if you need anything, alright?" 
She swallows, reaching out to grab his hand in a sleepy haze. His eyebrows raise as she bites her lip. "Can you just... stay for a minute? Until I fall back asleep?"
And truly, Harry couldn't deny her even if he wanted to. 
So he nods his head and, to his surprise, she moves over so he has room to crawl in. He does, at first maintaining a sliver of distance between them, until she looks up at him, her hair mussed from laying back against his pillows, an expectant and wide-eyed look on her face.
"Need me to hold you, dovie?"
Y/N nods, immediately clinging to his body like a magnet. He smiles gently and wraps his arms around her form, pulling her onto her side and into his chest, smoothing her hair down as he presses an occasional kiss to her forehead. They've cuddled at the shop a few times, but nothing like this — not an all-consuming, full body experience that has Harry feeling like he's in heaven. She smells so good, her skin is so warm, and she's wrapped up in his clothes — he doesn't think he could ask for anything more in this moment.
Just as he thinks she's fallen asleep, he hears a soft voice muffled into his sweatshirt. He glances down, wondering if she's just talking in her sleep. Instead, he's met with tired, sweet eyes.
"What was that?" he whispers, swiping his knuckle lightly over her cheek.
"Thank you," she mumbles. "For today."
"I would do anything for you, princess. Hope you know that."
She yawns with a shake of her head. "That's a silly thing to promise."
. . .
When Y/N wakes up the next morning, she's under the weight of a long haired man that, for the past two weeks, only existed in her dreams.
It's jarring for him to actually exist in her reality now, but even more so that she stayed over at his place and slept in the same bed as him.
Less than 24 hours away from her parents and she's already crossed off another first off her list.
But the blissful moment of realization is quickly stripped away when the events of last night come flooding back to her — the date with Arthur, his rough nature, the supposed deal between him and her parents. Her parents who were an entirely different issue on their own — she feels a dull throb aching behind her temples just as the thought of how they're planning to lure her back, worry seeping into her bones when she realizes she hasn't checked her phone since they left the tattoo shop last night.
Harry must feel her panicked thoughts rising because he blinks his eyes open to see a prominent furrow between her eyebrows. Without her realizing it, he moves carefully, raising his thumb to smooth it away.
"What're you stressing about so early in the morning?" he rasps out. She swallows, moving onto her side to face him.
"They've probably issued out a search party by now."
"Mm, can't do that. You're not considered a missing person until it's been 48 hours."
His joke clearly doesn't land when Y/N squints her eyes at him. Instead, he quickly wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. 
"It's gonna be okay, Y/N. I promised you would never go back there and I meant it," he explains lowly, pressing a light kiss to the shell of her ear. "What if you just text them and tell them that you're done? You're over 18, there's no reason why they can keep doing this."
Her eyes close as she relaxes into his chest, enjoying the sensation of his vibrating chest from his deep voice. 
"I'm too scared to look at my phone." she admits quietly. "I can't imagine the mean things they've written to me."
"Do you want me to look?" Harry asks softly, using his hand to tilt her head up to look at him. 
She shrugs. "If you do, can you maybe not tell me what they say? Just tell me the important stuff?"
"Course."
She nods and sits up, reaching onto his night stand for her phone. With a deep breath, she hands it to him before rolling over onto her other side to face the wall. 
He runs his fingers up and down her spine as he goes through her missed texts. There's one or two from that prick Arthur, but they're nothing important — just an ask that she calls him when she's feeling better (he resists the urge to block his number altogether). But otherwise... well, he's admittedly shocked at what he finds.
"Is it bad?" she asks, wedging her thumbnail between her teeth.
"Um..." Harry presses his lips into a thin line, rolling them into his mouth. "You didn't block their numbers or anything, right?"
"No."
"Dove... I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, but... there's nothing."
She flips onto her back, a stunned expression painting her face. "What?"
"They didn't text or call, sweetheart. I'm... I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, but... you just had some missed texts from that guy from last night."
"How is that possible?" she asks when he hands her phone to her, "I— do you think they haven't noticed?"
"I'm not sure. You said they've been on you more often lately, I would assume that they'd be waiting up for you last night, right?"
She shrugs, "Yeah. Probably."
"On the other hand, though, it could mean that... well, maybe you're home free, dovie," Harry says, treading carefully in case he accidentally upsets her, "We can take the day to relax. I don't have to go into work today and we can figure out your next steps, if you'd like."
With a heavy sigh, she nods her head and sits up a little straighter, running her hand through her messy bedhead. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"
"Sure," Harry mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before allowing his feet to touch the chilly wood floor of his bedroom. "I'll get you set up in the bathroom."
She doesn't reply to that so Harry decides to leave her be, instead deciding to show his affection in an act of service. He starts by running the shower on the perfect temperature — not too hot but not too cool either, just so steam begins to steadily fill the room — and picks out his plushiest towels for when she's done. He finishes by lighting his favorite candle for her, moseying back out to his bedroom to fetch her a new pair of sweats. 
She's on her feet when he returns, scrolling on her phone with her lips pressed into a straight line. Silently, he grabs another pair of his sweatpants and a tee-shirt and reaches out for her hand; a wordless request to follow him. 
She does, pliantly, but not before peering up at him with eyes that tell him everything: She's sad. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out.
"Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Harry murmurs, folding her new clothes on the covered toilet seat. "You're obviously free to use whatever you want in there."
Swallowing harshly, she begins to tug at the hem of her borrowed tee-shirt before he has the chance to scamper out of the room. His eyes widen — he feels like a dick, she probably wants to be alone and now he's standing her ogling at her breasts like an idiot — but she simply stares at him with blank eyes.
"Can you... distract me?" she asks softly, her torso now bare, "It's— it's just been too much and I miss you. A lot."
Harry breathes in sharply. "I don't know if that's a good idea, dovie... it's been an emotional time for you."
"I know that," she mumbles, biting her bottom lip. "I just— I wanna feel normal again, Harry. Like how things were before. When we could just kiss and hang out and I didn't feel like I'm gonna burst into flames at any point."
"I know," Harry nods understandingly and bumps his hip against the sink. "But things are different now, princess. And I don't want to do something that you'll regret later because you were feeling down."
She shakes her head quickly, taking a step towards him. The steam from the shower has effectively warmed the bathroom, making beads of sweat pearl at his hairline. Well, that and the topless girl in front of him. 
"I would never regret anything we do," she says, "Even when I tried to stay away from you, I didn't regret a single moment."
"Really?"
"Of course not," she replies, keeping her gaze set on him, "Sometimes, I, um... I even played with myself. Thinking of you."
"Jesus Christ."
He lets out a frustrated groan and closes the bathroom door, tugging his own tee-shirt up and over his body to reveal his heavily inked chest and arms. In a minute, his hands are on her, squeezing her sides as he presses her back against the wall. 
"Tell me more," he mutters, leaning down and sponging kisses along her jawline and down to her neck. "What did you do? What did you think about?"
The sudden physicality makes it hard for her to breathe, let alone talk, but she tries to anyway, knowing that he'll tease her into oblivion if she doesn't at least make an attempt. With his fingers curling into the waistband of the sweatpants she wears, she tries to remember the nights when all she could think about was him. 
"Thought about— oh—" her sentence is interrupted when he nips at the crook of her neck, his fingers dipping beneath her panties to lightly roll over her clit. She leans her head back but, as expected, he attempts to keep her on task, using his other hand to gently squeeze the sides of her neck. "T-thought about you touching me... l-like this."
"Like what?" 
"This," she repeats through a gasp when he starts to apply a bit more pressure to her clit, pressing small circles into the nerves. 
"Don't know what that means, dove. Gotta spell it out for me. Where was I touching you?"
Y/N moans when one of his fingers dips into her pulsating hole, just enough to make her clench, her knees weakening. He squeezes her neck again, this time a bit tighter, and her eyes roll back. 
"Where was I touching you, Y/N?" 
"D-down there." she says breathily.
"Down where?"
She knows there's no way she's getting out of this, and the rhythmic pulsing of her clit is only a reminder of the power he holds over her in this moment. She whimpers, swallowing harshly when he removes his finger, keeping the tip inside. 
"Tell me," he encourages lowly, licking over the sensitive part of her neck he found a few weeks back. "Don't you wanna be my dirty girl again?"
"Y-you were touching my pussy." she mumbles, her cheeks burning. She can feel his smirk, the way his lips curl against her skin. As promised, he dips his finger back in, curling it up against the spot that has her fluttering her eyes closed, and resumes the soft circles into her clit. 
"I was touching your pussy? That's a naughty thing for a sweet girl like you to imagine," he lowers, placing open-mouthed kisses down her naked chest. "And what were you doing while you thought of that, hm?"
Y/N gasps wetly as he pulses his finger steadily, a groan falling from his own lips when he feels her arousal gush out around his hand. Based on how long it took her to refer to her own anatomy, Harry doesn't have high expectations for her explaining how she touched herself, so it's a given that he'll help push her along. 
"Did you grind your little clit on your hand?" he asks as he lowers to his knees, tugging the sweatpants down her legs and pressing kisses to her exposed stomach. "Or did you hump one of those cute stuffed animals you have on your bed?"
She pants heavily at that, a soundless lightbulb illuminating above his head. Bingo.
"Don't think I didn't notice those little stuffies in your bedroom from when you'd send me pretty pictures of yourself," he murmurs into her hips, nipping at the stretch marks on her stomach, "Is that what you would do when you thought of me? Hump your cute bunny, moaning, wishing I was there to take care of you?"
She nods her head, quickly and haphazardly. He pushes his lips over her mound, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake as he continues his journey down to her pussy. She's wet, perhaps even more so than he's ever seen her before, her juices leaking from where his finger is buried deep inside down to his wrist. 
"Please," she whimpers from above, making him glance up at her, "Just— just want you. Please."
"You have me, dovie." he replies easily, pushing a second finger in and nestling it close to the first. 
"N-no. Want you. All of you."
He swallows and sits back on his heels. She has no idea how badly he wants that, and if it were anyone else in the world, he'd probably say yes. But it's her — his sweet, innocent girl that showed up at his tattoo shop one day and hasn't left his brain for one second since — and he knows that right now isn't the time for them.
"I'll give you that as soon as things get better," he murmurs, keeping his gaze set on her. "But you deserve so much more than to be fucked for the first time against a bathroom wall. Wanna take you out, make it romantic."
She blinks, taking a moment to process his polite rejection, nevertheless slowly nodding her head. He leans forward and presses another light kiss to her mound, just below her stomach. 
"Y'wanna know something, though?"
Again, she nods, and he begins to slowly curl his fingers up against her g-spot once more.
"I love the fact that I've corrupted you," he mutters, kissing down to her hood, right where her clit is peeking out. He licks just above there and she moans, pushing her hips out slightly as a wordless request to keep moving down. "Remember when you were that polite girl coming in with her friend? And now you're at my place, begging for my cock, asking me to take your virginity."
"Uh-huh," she mewls as his lips wrap around her clit, sucking perfectly in time with his thrusting fingers. 
He pauses his movements for a moment, just enough for a demand: "Say it," he says, immediately returning to the assault on her most sensitive parts. 
"Y-you corrupted me," she breathes, punctuating the sentiment with a whimper when he harshens his sucking, "I'm yours— oh, I'm yours, daddy—"
"That's right." he uses his other hand to part her pussy lips, spitting squarely on her clit, even if she doesn't need any more lubrication. He switches to kitten licking the bundle of nerves, feeling her hole beginning to clench violently around his fingers. "Cum for me like a good girl. Missed feeling your little pussy squeeze me like this."
That's all it takes for her to cum, her body feeling like it's exploding into a million stars as his tongue and fingers work her through the intense pleasure. He's groaning from the taste of her arousal that drools out from her pussy, the feeling of haphazard pulsations the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He loves watching her — her head ducked back slightly, her eyes squeezed closed, and the prettiest whimpers falling from plushy lips. 
"S-sensitive," she finally stutters out and Harry nods, gently pulling his fingers out. They immediately find their way into his mouth as he rises back up to his feet. When he's finished licking them clean, he grabs her jaw. 
"Open."
She does. Her lips part, opening her mouth, her pink tongue laying dormant inside. With a smirk, his eyes flicker up to hers before he spits into her mouth. 
It takes her by surprise, her body jolting slightly, but her sensitive pussy twitches from the act. 
"Swallow."
Slowly, she closes her mouth, swallowing the combination of his spit with her arousal. A moment later, she opens it again to show him there's nothing left.
"Fuck," he mutters. "Fuck, you're incredible."
She smiles gently, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Can we shower now?"
Harry chuckles and nods, guiding her into the steaming stream of water.
. . .
"Okay, princess. Repeat the plan back to me."
Y/N is doing her best to fight off a panic attack as she sits in the passenger's seat of Harry's car. Swallowing harshly, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she restates the steps they'd decided on last night.
"We're gonna go up to their apartment and go straight to my bedroom. If they're there, I'm going to ignore them and let you do the talking. I won't listen to anything rude they say to me."
"That's right. What do we do when we're in your room?"
"We're gonna pack up my things, but only the necessities. Most things can be repurchased." 
"Exactly. We're going for important things that you don't wanna leave behind."
She nods, watching the city streets slowly progress to the familiar high-end stores and supermarkets she grew up around. Suddenly, the blocks were far more sanitary and well taken care of. It made her stomach flutter in the worst way, being back here after spending the past few days at Harry's house in her newly preferred neighborhood.
In a stroke of luck, Harry had a friend that was looking for a roommate. Apparently, they'd worked together as tattoo apprentices a few years back and they still kept in touch. Her name was Lucy, and Harry had even set up a coffee date between the three of them so they could sit down before Y/N made any big decisions. She had been really nervous about it, but Lucy turned out to be incredibly nice and understanding. 
Y/N explained her situation to her, only to receive an abundance of kindness in return — she said that she would love to have her move in with her, that she was a pretty quiet person to live with and worked most days while Y/N would be in school. (She missed around two weeks of classes because of her parents, but Harry convinced her to meet with her professors and tell them she had a family emergency. Thankfully, they were fine with it, and with a little extra studying and hunkering down, she thinks she can still end the semester with low Bs.) 
With her living situation figured out and Y/N back to being a full-time student, the only thing left to address was her parents. In an ideal world, she would never have to deal with them again, but she knows that's unrealistic. They still haven't reached out to her despite it being a full week since she went back to Harry.
And while she wants to run away and abandon her former life, Harry convinced her that she had things she'd regret leaving behind. Not to mention, since starting grad school, she started saving money from her parents in the event that she somehow received an opportunity to get away from them. It wasn't enough to sustain her forever, but it would be good enough for a few months of bills and rent until she gets a job.
When Harry parks in the lot under her parents' apartment building, she feels nauseous. She ignores the sleek black Range Rover that's still parked in her assigned spot — she has no desire to take it, especially because it was just another way for her parents to pretend they were giving her freedom when they were just controlling her even more.
Wordlessly, they get in the elevator. Y/N's nibbling on her bottom lip to the point of near-blood draw while Harry thumbs over her knuckles, pressing a light kiss to her palm when the elevator dings at their arrival.
Standing outside of their apartment door, Y/N rolls her shoulders back to stand up straighter. She can feel Harry's presence close behind her and it brings her comfort, knowing that she's not going in this alone. He murmurs out a near-whisper of encouragement ("you can do this") before she punches in the door code. She's surprised when it works — she'd been half expecting them to change the codes so she couldn't come back.
Hesitantly and with intertwined fingers, Y/N leads them to her bedroom. The apartment is silent, which typically means her parents are gone, but her anxiety is too overwhelming for her to trust it. 
Which she supposes is for good reason, because when she opens the door to her room, her mother is sitting on her bed.
"Y/N," she says, eyes roaming inquisitively from her daughter to the man she's holding hands with. "I saw you coming up on the security cameras."
A bead of panic drips down her spine. Harry squeezes her hand and steps forward, clearly prepared to reply, when Y/N stops him. 
"Why are you here?" Y/N asks. Harry looks at her with a confused expression but he takes a step back, ready to defend her if needed. "You haven't contacted me for a week."
"Well, this is my property, Y/N. You're trespassing."
"Okay." she sighs, looking up at Harry. "Just give us a minute then, we just want to grab some of my stuff and we'll be gone."
"And this is who you'll be living with?" her mom quirks an eyebrow. "This... person from the bookstore that day?"
"He tried talking to you. You had no interest."
"Well I would think you would defend your boyfriend better than that. How was I supposed to know?"
Y/N grits her teeth and shakes her head, "Again, mother, just give us a minute. I'm not taking any furniture or anything valuable, just a few keepsakes."
"You're abandoning this family, I hope you know that," her mother spits as Y/N begins to rustle through her desk, grabbing some pictures and notebooks. Silently, she hands them to Harry, who carefully slips everything in the tote bag around his shoulder. "Your father is so disappointed. So are the Franklins! I mean, you left Arthur alone like that on your first date! And for what, a lifetime of struggling for money?"
"Not everything is about money!" Y/N exclaims, turning around. Harry's eyebrows shoot up — he's never seen her get angry before. "Besides that, you promised me off to Arthur like I'm some kind of object! Who does that?!"
"It was for the better of the company and the family, Y/N, don't be dramatic—"
"Well I didn't want that! I never did!" she shouts, "I want to live my own life! With my boyfriend! Who, by the way, I'm not living with! He's just helping me get on my feet, but even if I was moving in with him, it wouldn't matter, because it's not your life! You don't get to make my decisions anymore!"
Her mother scoffs and Y/N rolls her eyes. When she finds her envelope of money deep at the bottom of her dresser, she grabs a few pairs of pants and sweaters, sticking it between the layers of fabric to pass off to Harry. He tucks them all away. 
"You know you're cut off after this, right?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is it. You walk out that door, you're never allowed back. Don't ask us for a single cent."
Bristled, Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle as she heads for the door, Harry right behind her. They cross the length of the apartment and she slams the down button to the elevator, turning around to look at her mother for the last time.
"I never want to come back, mother. Goodbye."
The click of her mother's heels are the last thing she hears as they enter the elevator and ride down to the parking lot.
. . .
When they get into Harry's car, he realizes it's been a solid five minutes since Y/N has said anything. 
He doesn't want to pressure her — he knows that what just happened was a lot, and when he was reading articles like how to help your partner leave an abusive family last night, they all instructed him to go at her pace. So, that's what he decides to do.
The interior of the car is silent as they drive out of the lot and away from her parents, the boring, dull building just a reflection in the rearview mirror. He doesn't want to turn the radio on and make it seem like he doesn't care, but he also doesn't want to say something stupid and upset her further. 
It's only when he hears a sound resembling a giggle that he looks over at Y/N, a concerned furrow in his brow. 
But she is laughing. 
The most beautiful grin is covering her face as she lets out loud laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shakes her head, looking at Harry, whose confused expression only makes her laugh even harder.
"Dovie, are you alright?" he asks, pulling the car over in preparation for a full meltdown. 
"I—" her words are cut off by another peel of laughter and she takes another moment to pull herself together, "Oh my god— I would've done that years ago if I knew it'd be that easy!"
This time, Harry chuckles, a wave of relief washing over him.
"I'm so proud of you," he says, leaning over to pull her hands into his lap. "You stood up for yourself. You left. I couldn't be happier for you."
"Thank you," she bubbles, her cheeks flushed from her laughter, "I'm so happy. Thank you so much, Harry... I'm just so thankful for you."
He shakes his head, "I'll do anything for you, princess."
Y/N leans over to kiss him lightly, a smile continuing to curl at the edges of her lips. "I love you, you know."
Harry grins.
"Yeah, I love you, too."
. . .
The bell above the front door of St. Mark's Social Club rings as Y/N steps inside. She smiles politely at Jo, the kind receptionist that sits at the front desk (the same one that checked Mai in a few months ago). She's still getting comfortable with all the different employees and characters that come in and out of Harry's tattoo shop, but her socialization skills have definitely improved since moving out.
She walked over as soon as she got out of class. Lately, she's been staying on campus a bit later to do some studying for finals, but today's Friday. Over the past few weeks as Y/N's adjusted to her new life of living on her own and officially dating Harry, they've designated Friday nights as theirs, whether it mean curling up on the couch with a pizza or heading out to a bar with some of Harry's employees. (More often than not, it's the former — despite Harry being the more social of the two, he's always eager to get his hands on her after a day of being away from one another.)
He's wrapping up his last client of the day when Y/N peeks into his station, waving with a small smile. Harry's stoic and focused expression instantly transforms into one of excitement.  
"Hey dove," he greets as he tears off a clear piece of plastic to cover his client's new tattoo. (Y/N's since learned that it's called Saniderm, and it's apparently some way of helping fresh tattoos heal faster.) "You can put your stuff down in my office, I'll be there in a sec."
She nods and bounces off to the small room at the end of the hallway. Instantly, she lays back against the velvet couch in the corner, placing her backpack on the floor. As promised, Harry walks in a few minutes later, pulling off his plastic gloves and tossing them in the garbage can. 
"How was your day?" he asks, leaning down to peck her lips. She hums, hands in her lap as he smiles down at her.
"Good. Class was boring, I was excited to come see you."
"Oh yeah?" he smirks, "You better have been paying attention and not letting your mind wander with those dirty thoughts of yours."
Y/N rolls her eyes. "Harry, you're the one that tries to have phone sex, like, every night."
"We'll get there one day, I think."
She laughs and shakes her head, crossing her legs. "What are you in the mood to eat for dinner tonight?"
"Mm, not sure," he replies, "I forgot, I have one deal to do before we head out for the day. 's why I came around to begin with. I hope that's alright."
She nods her head, "Yeah, that's fine."
"Thanks, princess," he murmurs, leaning forward to press a light kiss to her nose. "Who'd have thought, three months ago yo@u'd be dating the hot tattoo artist that sells weed on the side?"
"You're silly," she mumbles with a giggle, "But... to be honest, I never thought this is what my life would look like three months ago."
"I'm sure. Are you happy with it, though?"
Y/N has to bite her lip from grinning too hard. 
"I don't think I could be any happier, Harry."
She squeals when he pushes her back against the length of the sofa to press kisses all over her face.
. . .
TAGS:
I know I asked people forever ago if they wanted to be tagged for my new writing and I'm literally just doing it now grjetkjre but please feel free to message me if that's changed ! (if your name is in italics it didn't work!)
@tenaciousperfectionunknown @cookielovesbook-akie @cali-888 @harrysolaf @gnomerry @vamprry @onllyyaangelbyhs @harrystylessslut @lovelylly @straightontilmornin @rizosrizo26 @redlightalexa @velvetballaspark @uniquesexything @canyonmoondreams @ghoststyles @whoreonmondays @esnyhoney @imnevergonnabloganything @honeyharlows @gem1712 @harryscherri @forgetdelaney
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Best mistake
Azriel x Reader
Summary; Reader doesn't quite understand how mating bonds work.
Warnings; Mentions of sex
Masterlist
Velaris was always beautiful during the day, but during the night? It was a sight of dreams, if you really think about it; that’s one of the reasons it is called court of dreams. Because of this you decided that tonight’s dinner party should be held in the main balcony of the house of wind where the view was spectacular. Thankfully Feyre and Nesta volunteered to help you, otherwise you wouldn’t have made it. You were so lucky that Nesta preferred the bookstore you worked at, because if she didn’t you wouldn’t have met the inner circle, they wouldn’t become your family too and most importantly you wouldn’t have met him. The night court’s shadowsinger-your mate. Technically he wasn’t your mate-mate yet if that’s a thing, but you were making progress. You knew you had to accept him as your mate but with everything going on -the recent war, the reconstruction of Velaris and his missions- it was nearly impossible to find a free day -or several (wink wink)- for the mating ceremony. You still had no clue how you would accept him but the idea of asking anyone filled you with embarrassment. You are a fae for crying out loud shouldn’t you know this already?
You and Feyre were preparing the meals, everything was perfect until you noticed that you both forgot about Azriel’s request; apple pie. You whipped your head in Feyre’s direction to inform her, but she was gone, probably bickering with Nesta for something irrelevant. You shook your head and started making the apple pie. You knew that the house was enchanted, and it could make the food -weird- yet you wanted the dinner to be special and full of love thus you made all the food.
Everything was set and by the beating sound of wings you knew that Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand were approaching the house. You took your apron off and headed to the balcony.  Just a moment before the males landed, black smoke filled the air and Mor, Elain and Amren fell into the balcony. You laughed at their panting knowing that they were probably racing the boys here.
Strong arms engulfed you from behind and the musky scent of cedar and whiskey had you shivering. His face rested in your neck where he left a soft kiss.
“Hello angel” his voice melodic and soft like the finest velvet.
You just leaned back enjoying his Illyrian warmth and closing your eyes.
“Enough I’m starving” Cassian exclaimed earning a growl from your mate.
Soon everyone was devouring your food, complimenting you. After everyone was finished, you and Feyre walked back inside to get the desserts, you picked a plate and filled it with apple pie keeping the rest in the kitchen in case Azriel wanted more, after all you made it for him. As soon as Feyre had moved the desserts to the table you picked the plate and walked back outside, taking a seat next to Azriel you placed it in front of him without interrupting his conversation with Rhysand. He was briefing him about his last mission, so lost in the discussion that he didn’t notice your movement. Cassian did though and leaned back in his chair a smirk forming on his face. You lifted your eyebrow and he just shrugged pulling his gaze from you.
Azriel stopped talking and picked up his fork taking a piece of the apple pie, he chewed and a low moan left his mouth.
“This is amazing” he said, already picking a second piece.
“Really? I made it for you” you smiled excitedly.
Silence.
Everyone’s head whipped towards you. Azriel gulped, his eyes wide.
“What?” You asked. Fear filled your body.
Rhysand was standing up slowly as to not provoke the shadowsinger.
“Y/n don’t you know that this is how you accept the mating bond?” Feyre spoke her gaze fixed on Azriel. You gave her a confused look. “Offering food.” She specified.
“But we made all the food and we’ve done it again before” your voice barely above a whisper.
“Did you make the apple pie specifically for Azriel?” Cassian asked the smirk never leaving his face and his eyes filled with amusement. He knew.
You nodded.
“There you have it. You just accepted the bond and sent your mate into a sexual frenzy” he boomed. Your jaw almost touched the ground.
“You saw me leaving the plate there…you knew… why didn’t you tell me?” You shouted.
“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this” he leaned back more and placed his hands behind his head.
Your gaze turned to Azriel who was shaking and then you felt it too. Every feeling was million times stronger, his scent filling all of your senses making you clench your thighs, a faint smell of your arousal leaving your body.
Azriel lifted his gaze on you, his eyes filled with darkness and dominance.
“Do you want this?” His voice feral and possessive.
“Yes” you breathed.
In an instant you were in his arms, his wings flaring behind him.
“Don’t come to the cabin” he growled to the others and with that you were on the sky, a yelp leaving your lips.
He glanced at you and then you decided.
This was the best mistake you’ve ever made.
Requests are open.
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dollfacefantasy · 5 months
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Let Them See
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pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: leon teases you while you're at the bookstore. on the way home, he has to pull over to deal with it.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, praise/degradation, dubcon elements (reader is scared of being caught), thigh fucking, he cums inside, car sex, road head, teasing in public, crying, sub space (forgive me if i'm using that incorrectly)
word count: 4.9k
a/n: i feel absolutely depraved. thank you to @sleepyluxe for the idea. this does reference my other fic, but it's not important to the plot. just if you read that one, this is like a little sequel! if you sent me a request, i am working on it, please be patient with me. i hope everyone enjoys. special smooches to everyone who reblogs and comments and sends me asks :) you don't know how much it means to me <3
tags: @dwkfan @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @sleepyluxe @petitecolibri @death-paint @luniaxi @bizzarethirst lmk if you would like to be added to the list!
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You gaze out the window of the car, looking around at the beautiful day outside the glass. You softly hum along to the song playing on the radio as Leon’s fingers rub tiny circles on your inner thigh. You occasionally look over at him to watch him drive, your eyes full of all the love in the world. Your boyfriend finally had some time off, and he was spending it with you.
The entire day so far consisted of the two of you going around and just doing whatever you wanted. Just having fun together. Now, you were on the way to the bookstore. You had no shopping agenda, it was just another stop on your series of activities.
He pulls the car into a parking space near the shop and shuts it off. He squeezes your thigh once more before leaning over to kiss your cheek.
“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks while stroking your face softly.
You nod and lean in for one more sweet kiss. 
The two of you exit the car and head towards the store. Your hand finds his immediately, interlacing your fingers together. You lean your head against his shoulder as the automatic doors glide apart to let you in. His expression softens when you display your need to be close, and he kisses the crown of your head.
You wander the aisles together, looking through different sections and pointing out different things you’d read or wanted to read. Eventually, you end up in the romance section. Leon shifts his position to stand behind you and watch from over your shoulder. His arms circle your form, encasing you against his chest while he nuzzles the side of your head and kisses your cheek a few times.
You smile and turn your head slightly to give him a small kiss as you read the synopsis of the book in your hand. You guessed he had missed you lately since he’d been working so much. He was usually pretty attached to you right after coming home, and you never minded because why would you? If he needed extra affection, you would never deny him that.
Your intuition was half-correct because your boyfriend had missed you and did want to be in physical contact with you constantly right now, but the reason behind his current touchiness was a different type of longing.
He was so pent up from being away from you. A couple of days before he left for his last mission you had let it slip that you wanted to call him Daddy, and he had been feeling wild ever since. Sure, he’d fucked you until you couldn’t walk prior to him leaving and spent nearly all of last night inside of you, but it wasn’t enough. He craved you so deeply. He could feel every cell in his body yearning for you.
In his time away, it felt as if images of you clouded his mind in every waking moment. If he wasn’t actively fighting for his life, but even in those moments too sometimes, he was thinking of you. Your blissed out, flushed face, and your soft parted lips spilling entrancing sounds of pleasure. The way he could nearly see a physical change once you heard him praise you or remind you to be good for Daddy haunted him each minute he was across the globe from you.
It was like a new part of you had been unlocked to him. A side of you that looked at him with such reverence that he almost couldn’t stand it. He loved every facet of your personality, but this piece of you that wanted nothing more than to love him and be taken care of drove him up the wall.
He takes a deep breath while peppering the side of your neck with gentle kisses, inhaling your scent. He lets out a hum next to your ear, quiet enough so only you can hear, but in a tone to let you know what he desires. 
Despite his hinting, you just smile again and give him another chaste kiss. You were still too focused on that book for his liking. He watches you flip through the pages and scan different passages. He is disinterested for the most part until a certain section of words catches his eye.
“His manhood glides into her sopping heat,” he reads with a low chuckle. He gives you another peck on your temple. “This what you read when I’m gone, honey? So dirty, but I guess I should’ve known.”
“Oh, shut up,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You gently jab your elbow back into his abdomen.
That makes him smile and hold you even tighter against his broad front. His hands slowly rub either side of your body while his warm breath is blowing over your neck.
“No, it’s ok, baby. I know you’re insatiable. You gotta take care of yourself somehow when I’m not there,” he says quietly against your skin.
“Leon,” you say in a warning tone. It wasn’t so much what he was saying that was starting to get you hot. It was the low rumble of his voice, his lips brushing your throat, and his thick biceps locked around you like boa constrictors.
“I can just see it. You in bed, book in one hand, the other down your shorts, those fingers playing with your pretty, aching pussy. Hips bucking while you bite your lip,” he breathes, “But it’s probably not enough, is it? No, I’ve got you trained so well, baby girl. I know you can’t cum without Daddy’s help. I bet you call out for me when I’m not there, wishing it was me buried between those cute legs instead of your hand.”
“Leon,” you say, trying to speak in a warning tone, but it comes out as a soft whine. Your cheeks felt hot and your head a little dizzy.
“Leon?” he mocks, “That’s not who you were crying for last night, sweetheart.”
“Daddy,” you correct yourself quietly, turning your head to look into his eyes. His lips curl further into a predatory grin.
“That’s it. Good girl,” he coos and kisses your nose, “Daddy’s girl is so smart, remembering things like that. Good to know you keep some of that mind after I fuck it dumb all night.”
The way he taunts you makes it feel like your knees are going to buckle. You try to plead with him through your eyes. The aisle you were in was empty and towards the back of the store, but your mind was running rampant with thoughts of someone else catching the words that left his mouth.
“What’s that look for, princess?” he laughs in a hushed tone, “I thought you loved when I talked like that.”
“What if someone hears?��� you ask softly.
“Oh, baby,” he coos, “Are you afraid of someone seeing how pathetic you are for Daddy?”
Heat bunches in your lower abdomen making you shift a little. You nod.
“Scared of someone seeing how you rub those gorgeous thighs together? How you can’t meet anyone’s eyes? How you have to hold Daddy’s hand to feel ok?” he whispers before nipping at your earlobe, “And all just from a few words.”
Your breath hitches and you fight to keep the whimper blossoming in your throat inside. “We’ll get in trouble,” you say, your voice shaking.
“Aw, my sweet girl doesn’t want to get in trouble?” he teases, “Baby, we’re just talking. If you can just keep yourself under control, we’ll be fine. I know it’s hard for you though. You hear Daddy, and you become such a needy little slut.”
Your head hangs forward a bit. You stare at the ground trying not to let yourself lose it in public. You were slipping into that state of mind where all you wanted was to be good for him. You wanted to just drop to your knees and have him pet your head while you sucked him off.
He knows what’s going through your mind. He can read you like no other. One of his hands slides down to your stomach to gently caress you there. The book you were holding was long forgotten, and Leon smiles wide as you push it back onto the shelf.
“I mean, even if someone did hear me, it wouldn’t be that bad, would it? It’s not like they’re seeing you when we’re alone. When you’re whining and crying for my cock like a bitch in heat,” he rasps.
“Daddy, stop,” you whimper. You felt hot and achy with need. You just wanted him to hold you and fuck you until you couldn’t think, but you were stuck in the middle of this store with bright lights and people walking around and nowhere to be alone.
“Do you really want me to stop, angel?” he asks, “I know you love this. I know you love feeling all shy and needing me to make it better. I think deep down you want everyone to know what a whore you are for me. You want ‘em to know how I own you.”
You bite your lip. You were getting so turned on, you felt like you could cry. The mix of shame and arousal swirls inside your head and pushes all other thoughts out. It was just you and Leon right now, no one else mattered. Being seen like this was becoming less of a worry to you.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, “I know you love it. I bet you if I put my hand down your pants right now, you’d soak my fingers. I just know you’re dripping from being reminded how pathetic you are for me.”
You turn around in his hold to hide your face against his chest. Your arms wrap around his body so that you’re as close as possible. If someone else saw you now, they might just think you were having a bad day and Leon was comforting you in earnest.
Your display of submission amuses him. His face is smug. He rubs your back and cradles your head.
“Aw, baby, are you gonna cry? Is this too much for you, sweetheart? Are you embarrassed I can get you this desperate from my voice alone?” he croons.
“Yes,” you say. Your tone is desperate, both for him and to leave the store.
“But why are you embarrassed, honey? You like being claimed, don’t you?” he coos and tilts your head up by your chin, taking in your flustered expression, “Yeah, you like when people see us, and they know that you’re mine just from one look. So what is there to be embarrassed about, babydoll?”
“I like it… but… I just… because-” you struggle to articulate yourself as you gaze into his piercing eyes and he begins rubbing his knuckles along your jawline.
“Because you don’t want anyone else knowing? No one else can see how much you like being controlled because it’s shameful, isn’t it? It’s humiliating to admit that you like me controlling everything, from the number of times you cum at night down to the clothes you wear when you wake up in the morning. No one else should know the infinite amount of vile, disgusting things you would do if I just asked you to,” he whispers and kisses your hairline.
He swipes his thumb across your lips slowly as he talks. When he’s done, he sticks the digit between your lips. You gently suck on it, maintaining eye contact with him all the while.
His eyebrows raise, indicating how pleased he is with you. “I really do have you perfectly trained. You don’t even think about it anymore. You feel any part of me in your mouth and you know to start sucking like a good little slut.” He pulls his thumb back out and smears your saliva over your lips.
“Can we just leave?” you ask softly, your eyes casting down again, “Please.”
“What? You don’t want to buy anything? You know I’ll pay,” he teases, knowing that shopping couldn’t be further from your mind right now.
“Please Daddy,” you whisper and look at him desperately. You were so soaked it would be uncomfortable if you stood there for any longer.
He presses a tender kiss to your lips, deciding to give you a break. “Yeah, beautiful. We can leave. I don’t think you could focus enough to read anything right now even if you wanted to.”
He takes you under his arm and starts to guide you out of the store. You keep your arms around him as you lean into his side.
“That’s my girl. My good girl,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head while the two of you walk through the exit, “You just need Daddy right now, don’t you baby?”
“Mhm,” you hum quietly as you make your way through the parking lot.
When you reach the car, Leon opens the door for you and helps you inside. He then quickly goes around to the other side of the car and gets in the driver's seat. He wastes no time turning it on and getting it into gear. The car whips out of the parking space and out to the road.
Your eyes continuously dart over to him. The urge to hop over the center console and into his lap was all-consuming. He briefly glances at you with a knowing look.
You take that as a signal and slowly reach across the car. Your hand lands at the top of his thigh and slides over his lap to palm him through his jeans. He was already half-hard from tormenting you in the store.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks teasingly.
You tentatively pop the button of his jeans open and tug the zipper down. Your eyes are silently begging while your fingers begin massaging the outline of his length over his boxers.
“Just need to feel it. Please,” you say as your fingertips continue their miniscule movements.
He shakes his head and lets out a laugh while adjusting in his seat to give you better access. “You need it, do you?”
You nod and maneuver your hand into his underwear for direct contact. Your fingers wrap around him, feeling the heat of it pulsing in your grasp. Your content with that for a while, but soon you want more.
“Daddy, can I please suck your cock?” you ask.
Hearing your soft and sweet voice ask for something so vulgar made his dick twitch with need for you, but he tried to keep his reaction casual.
“Look at you, asking like a good girl,” he teases, “Can’t wait until we get home? Did Daddy get you too worked up?”
“Yes,” you say timidly, “I just… I need it.”
“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain,” he says, “You can suck me off, my love. Just be good, so we don’t crash.”
You nod quickly, happy he wasn’t going to torment you on the way home too. After unbuckling your seatbelt, you shift and lean over to his seat to put your head in his lap. He splays a protective hand across your back as you get in position. Without hesitation, you get to task and pull him out of his boxers.
You lick the bulging head a few times, but then wrap your lips around it and sink down. You flatten your tongue against the shaft, feeling the veins as you lower your head. He groans and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. His other hand rubs your back in small strokes.
“There you go, angel,” he says, “Fuck, I could never say no to your mouth.”
You suck gently before bobbing your head slowly up and down. One of your hands cups his balls and kneads them carefully. The noises of the blowjob sound through the car’s enclosed space. Leon fights the instinct to buck into your throat. Your mouth was just so warm and wet and soft. Absolute heaven. It was hard for him to focus on the road in this condition.
It was easy for you to focus on giving him head though. You work your mouth over him, paying attention to all his favorite spots and taking him as deep as you can. You rest your nose against his pelvis as you hold him in your throat. His thighs tense and the car jerks a little when he accidentally pushes on the brakes too hard.
“Jesus fuck, baby. Ease up a little,” he grunts. His hand on your back coasts up to your neck and caresses the base of your skull.
Not long after he says this, you pull off to catch your breath. While you take your break, you purse your lips and spit a fat glob of saliva onto his cock. It drips onto the head and then slides the rest of the way down to where your fist is now gripping him. You start jerking him and spreading your drool around his shaft.
You press sloppy, wet kisses to his tip. Some of his precum coats your lips before you open your mouth and bring him inside again. You make muted gagging noises while you try to get him deep again.
He wants so badly to watch you, to see that adorable dedicated look on your face and your eyes tearing up as you choke yourself. It’s driving him crazy having to watch the street ahead of him. He can also feel the simmering build up of release which he doesn’t want to do so soon or while he’s driving. His hips twitch more while he white-knuckles the wheel.
“Babe, calm down,” he hisses pointlessly. You’re wrapped up in your own little world right now, “If you don’t quit it, I’m gonna cum and then you’re not gonna get to have any fun when we get home.”
You sort of register that comment, but you were absolutely fixated on getting him to blow his load down your throat so you don’t stop.
He realizes instantly that you’re not going to let up. He makes a split second decision to pull a sharp turn onto a less busy road. He steers the car off of the asphalt and off road a little bit. Once there’s substantial distance between your vehicle and the road, he throws it in park and yanks you up by your hair.
“When I tell you to do something, it’s not a request,” he states simply. 
It takes a lot in him to keep up the serious persona and not smile at your face right now. You looked fucked out even though you hadn’t even come close to the main event yet. Saliva covers your lips and chin while your eyes project a dazed mix of arousal and guilt.
“But Daddy, I just wanted to make you feel good,” you say.
“Liar. I know you just wanted some cum down your throat cause you’re a greedy little slut, baby,” he chides, “Also, is it your job to ‘try’ whatever you want?”
You shake your head and look down like a puppy who’s been caught being bad. “I’m sorry Daddy,” you say softly.
“What is your job?” he asks, ignoring your apology.
“To be a good girl and listen to Daddy.”
“Hm, so you do remember. You’re not stupid then, just deliberately disobedient,” he says.
You open your mouth to dispute that but decide against arguing and shut it again. The way you were shrinking in on yourself made him want to ruin you even more.
“Good, at least it looks like you’re learning. I’ll have to remind you of the rest though,” he says and finally lets go of your hair, “Get your ass in the backseat.”
“But Daddy-” you start, about to repeat your fears from earlier about being seen.
“Enough with this ‘but Daddy’ shit. You wanna act like a whore, that’s how I’ll treat you,” he says, “Be grateful for the privacy you get. You’re lucky I didn’t just stop the car and fuck you in the middle of the street.”
Your inner thighs were slick with your arousal by this point. You could feel it when you began crawling past your seat to the back of the car. Leon slaps your ass as you make your way there, causing you to yelp.
He simply gets out of the car and enters the backseat through the door. He sits next to you and looks at you expectantly.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks, “Do you really need me to guide your every move? I know that’s not true because you just showed me it wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry Daddy,” you say again as you begin removing your clothes. You peel your top off and shimmy out of your pants.
“I know you are, baby. But I still have to teach you your lesson. You have to learn that Daddy knows best,” he says while taking off his own clothing.
You scoot closer to try and assist him, but he manages on his own and flips you over, pinning you to the seats. One hand is locked on the flesh of your hip while the other holds your head down against the leather. He’s kneeling behind you, hunched over due to his stature in the limited space.
He teases up and down your folds with the angry red tip of his cock, still leaking precum from the close call a few minutes ago. Your body yearns to be filled, but you keep quiet and try to appear patient.
“Do you even deserve my cock?” he asks as he bumps your clit. You would nod, but his hold on your head is strong. “I mean really, maybe I should be focused on training some patience into you. Teach you take what I give you and not vie for more.”
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimper.
“I know, babydoll, that’s only the tenth time you’ve said that,” he mocks as he slides up and down through your slick, “But I can really show you what sorry is. Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you. What if, right now, I fuck your thighs? You keep those pretty legs together, nice and tight for me to use like a fleshlight.”
He pushes your thighs together like he described and begins slowly thrusting himself between them. He quietly grunts and kneads your ass.
“Please Daddy, no, I’m so-”
“Ah ah, don’t interrupt,” he tuts, not stopping his hips, “You’d probably still get off on it. You’re so whipped for me you’d probably cum if I smiled at you right.”
You stay silent. You knew he was teasing, but it might have been true. He knew all your buttons and just how to push them.
“Yeah, you know I’m right. My poor baby. You can’t help it. You don’t know any better, do you?”
“No…” you say quietly before your bottom lip juts out into a pout. The idea of him not fucking you properly while you were possibly the most horny you’d been in your life was deeply upsetting.
“No, you don’t,” he agrees in a condescending tone, “You just love Daddy so much. It’s not your fault your body is addicted to me. You don’t choose for your cunt to soak through your panties just from hearing my voice, do you? It just happens. Your heart knows it belongs to me.”
He speaks as if he’s comforting you which makes it feel so much worse and so much better at the same time. Your eyes water, the mix of emotion being a lot for you to handle in this state.
“It doesn’t care how pathetic you act because of it. All it knows is that you need your Daddy,” he says, his voice husky. He pulls away from the junction of your thighs and nudges your legs apart with his knees. He positions his cock at your entrance. “That’s why I’ll give you a pass, baby. You’re not a bad girl. You just need me to keep you in line sometimes.”
His grip has weakened enough that you’re able to nod. “Thank you Daddy,” you choke out as he pushes all the way inside in one go. You were so wet that he had no problem bottoming out immediately.
“Good girl,” he praises through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, “So fucking wet, Christ.”
Everything felt right now that he was inside of you. The relief crashed on you like a wave. A couple tears leak from your eyes and your body shudders.
He starts pushing himself in and out, his head tilts back as he does. You clutch the edge of the bench while your eyes flutter. You felt like you were up in the clouds. The feeling of him twitching against your walls as he slid in and out was total euphoria. It was a little much to feel this way from a few strokes, but like he said, you couldn’t control it.
You bounce your hips back against his and he smacks it. You can tell from the sting that there will probably be a handprint on the skin. He lets you fuck yourself on it for a little while before he takes over again. He stares down to where the two of you connect, unable to tear his eyes from how your cunt sucks in his cock, your wetness gathering around the spot where your bodies link.
You whimper and cry as he picks up speed, pistoning into you. Your cheek feels numb from being squished on the cushion. Leon notices and leans down closer to you. It wasn’t unusual for you to get emotional during sex but seeing it always made his protective urges flare up. He wraps his thick arm around your neck from behind, putting you into a loving headlock. He lays some messy kisses on the side of your temple.
“I love my needy girl so much. You know that right?” he whispers while sensually rolling his hips against your ass, “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. My sweet girl, so sensitive. I love you baby.”
“I love you too,” you cry. You lean into his kisses and lift one of your hands to rest it on his forearm.
Knowing you’re ok, he resumes his harsher thrusts, pulling you by your neck closer to him. He growls into your ear and nuzzles the side of your head.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, babe. Can’t last in this tight pussy, squeezing me like a fucking anaconda,” he moans.
You bite your lip and grip his arm tighter as you feel your own peak rising within.
“Where do you want it, baby girl?” he grunts in your ear.
“Inside, Daddy. Please,” you whine.
He chuckles and gives you one more kiss on the head for saying please. 
“I don’t even know why I ask anymore. Course you want it in your pussy. Even though you look so cute with Daddy’s cum all over your face, no thoughts in that pretty little head. Just happy you got some attention.”
“I like it inside,” you defend before gasping.
“I know you do, angel,” he says, his voice strained as the ecstasy begins to bubble over, “I like it too. Stuffing you full of me. A little reminder of who owns you once we’re finished.”
You nod as best you can in the headlock before your body seizes and jerks. Your orgasm rips through you, making you shake and moan through tears. You claw at his arm with both hands now, brokenly whimpering for Daddy over and over.
He can’t take it anymore. The sight beneath him mixed with the bliss of your cunt fluttering around him, it breaks the resolve inside him. He snaps his hips against you roughly and tightens his arm around you. He growls and grabs the leather seats so hard you think he might rip a chunk out.
He pumps into you repeatedly, draining himself in the warm embrace of your velvety walls. You can feel the thick white ropes filling you up as the sweaty skin of his abdomen rubs against your back.
His hips spasm as he finishes. He rests on top of you for a moment afterwards, panting to catch his breath. He kisses your neck gently and then moves to your ear.
“My beautiful, perfect girl,” he whispers, “So good for me, baby, like always.”
He gets off of you so you can sit up. Once you do, he gently holds your jaw and wipes away any leftover tears and saliva on your face. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss.
“So pretty,” he mumbles against your lips.
The two of you dress in the backseat, pulling your clothes on haphazardly so you can actually go home. This time you get out of the backseat through the door and hop back in the passenger seat. You laugh when you see Leon stretching outside of the driver's door.
“You ok there, buddy?” you tease when he gets back in.
He smiles, raises his eyebrows, and starts the car up.
“I’m buddy now? Are you over Daddy?” he says, “This is the thanks I get for working hard to please you.”
“Thank you Daddy,” you say overly-sweet, leaning over to kiss his cheek as he pulls back onto the road.
“You wanna play around, but I’m not the one who was crying that ten minutes ago when she thought she wouldn’t get any dick,” he laughs.
“Oh, shut up, Leon!” you say and roll your eyes.
“It’s Leon right now, but I bet you when we’re home in five minutes, I’ll have you begging for Daddy again,” he says and smirks.
You smile and look away, knowing that he’s totally right.
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seichira · 10 months
Text
is it just me?
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itoshi rin is tormented by the lingering ghosts of your tragic breakup. he is cold and he lives with the burden of missing you. he wonders if you are hurting too, or is it just him?
pairing : itoshi rin x reader
content : hurt and comfort. exes to lovers. messy breakup. accusations of cheating (no actual cheating). insecurities. mentions of alcohol. cursing.
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it’s one in the morning and rin is surrounded by his friends and acquaintances but still, he feels cold. even with the alcohol in his system that he drank to purposely warm him, it’s cold.
it has been this way for nearly a year now. eleven months and a couple weeks, if anyone is counting. a few days more and it would be the anniversary of your breakup.
the nearer it gets to twelve months without you, the colder it gets. right now, even with the perfectly working heater in one of his teammate’s penthouse, rin shivers.
it’s cold.
he never thought it could be this cold.
rin knows why he feels like this. he knows exactly why he wakes up and goes to bed alone. the reason why his life is dull and empty is not a secret to him—he just won’t acknowledge it.
he refuses to admit to himself that the reason why he has been suffering for the past eleven months of his life is because you’re not here.
how could he admit it? how could he ever address that your absence it what causes his pitiful state, when he brought it upon himself.
it was his fault that you’re not here. he wanted this. well, he had thought that he wanted this.
there is no way he could welcome the thought that he misses you when he was the one who drove you away, right? there is no use.
it’s too late now. all he could do is go out with his teammates on nights like this and pretend as if he wasn’t freezing from the inside out.
“damn, this is so boring,” seishiro sits down beside him on the sofa and rin tenses at the presence of the white-haired boy.
he does not know what to do because among everyone else in this crowded room, you are most connected to nagi seishiro. your best friend. and he has long been your best friend before you and rin even got together.
how is rin supposed to act around the person who is still in your life while he himself isn’t? this man seated next to him knows where you are right now and what you have been doing, while rin has absolutely no idea how you are.
“didn’t think i’d see you here, itoshi,” nagi speaks again. rin hums in acknowledgment, “thought it wouldn’t be so bad to come.”
there is this unspoken understanding between them, that both of them are thinking about you. after all, aside from soccer, all they have in common is their connection to you.
nagi debates whether he should tell you that he saw rin tonight or keep it to himself so as to not instigate negative feelings from you.
rin wonders if he should start asking about you. he decides against it and pretended to busy himself with his cellphone to avoid further conversation with your best friend.
he convinces himself that he does not care. he acts like he doesn’t want to know how you are. he tries to make himself believe that as long as he can fake it, it will somehow be true.
jokes on him, really.
meguru approaches nagi next to him and rin is planning to ignore him like he usually does, but the words that comes out of meguru’s mouth made that utterly impossible.
“nagi! i saw y/n by the bookstore earlier this afternoon, didn’t you ask her to come? i invited her but she said you didn’t mention anythin’ about a party!”
the mere mention of your name makes rin’s heart stop. it has been a very long time since he heard someone mention your name casually around him. now that your name has been dropped, everything comes crashing down on him, and he cannot breathe.
“oh, damn, i’m sorry—“ bachira seems to notice his mistake upon not seeing rin next to nagi. they know not to carelessly throw your name around because at first, it affected his performance. now, it is apparent that you affect him in and out of the game.
“excuse me.”
rin is cold. it’s like ice is running through his veins as he stands up and rushes to leave the suffocating penthouse.
rin runs out to the street and for the first time since he lost you, he names the sinking feeling in his stomach that won’t go away.
for the first time since you walked out the door of your shared apartment, rin finally admits it.
he misses you.
he is longing for you like how the moon misses the sun but never meets it enough. it burns and it is freezing all at the same time because when you were here, he felt nothing but the assurance of your love.
he runs, and runs, and runs. it’s dark and it’s cold, but he runs. he runs in hopes that he could change the past. he runs with the burning desire to correct his faults and take back all the hurt he inflicted on you.
maybe then, you’d be here.
maybe then, it wouldn’t be so cold.
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“are you seriously accusing me of that, rin? are you hearing yourself right now?” the hurt was evident in your tone as you watched the love of your life with all of his guards up.
his glares were accusing as if what he saw was an unforgivable betrayal. he had seen you talking to his brother, sae, and rin was quick to act out of pure rage and jealousy.
“you were flirting with my fucking brother!” he spat out, and he knew it was irrational.
he knew he was wrong about and that you would never be able to do that to him, but his years of pent up frustration and hatred towards his brother made it impossible to remember his trust in you.
“and i already told you i wasn’t, rin. i was talking to him. i bumped into him at the coffee shop while i was getting your usual morning drink when he saw me and i sat down for a little chat! that was all, baby. believe me.”
you deserved an award with how well you held up, with how patient you were with him despite his hurtful accusations towards you.
no one else understood him like you did, and you knew to be more patient with him in times like these. you were aware of how his brother affected him and how he just needed someone to stick with him through it.
“well, fuck that! you shouldn’t have been with him in the first place! sae wants everything that i have and now, he’s tryna get you too!”
it almost made you flinch, with his tone rising and his voice getting louder. he is furious, and you try to disregard the sting of his words now that his fury is directed at you.
“i’m sorry, alright? it wasn’t my intention to hurt you, rin. he’s your brother and i thought it would be nice to ask him how he is and—“
rin cut you off like he couldn’t comprehend a word that you were saying. “that’s bullshit and you know it! just fuckin’ tell me the truth! that like everyone and everything else, you’re gonna leave me for him!”
it frustrated you that he blocked all your explanations out. you were growing weary with the accusations thrown at you, but you continued. you continued to reason with him because you knew him. you knew he needed someone to stay. and above all, you tried further because you were in love with him.
you loved rin three years before you finally got together. your two years together made that five. that was five years of your life being deeply in love with someone whom you thought was going to be your husband and the father of your kids.
that amount of time may not be much when viewed through the generations of people who loved each other, but for the both of you, those five years were enough to build a life and create an ideal future with the other.
so, yeah. it never occurred to you to give up in that argument. there was no chance in hell that you would leave him high and dry.
“it’s not like that, rin. i am never going to leave you for anyone, much less for your brother! i need you to listen to me! we talked! that’s it!”
“you’re lying to me. i know it.”
you shake your head in exhaustion. “i talk, and i talk, and i talk—and you don’t hear a thing.” a lone tear falls from your eye without realizing.
his sharp stare does not falter. all he could see was red. the scene of you and sae together replayed over and over again in his mind.
you, the person he loved most, with the person who took everything away from him. it killed him to imagine a future where it is not you and him, but you and sae.
“i’m in love with you. only you. i cannot see myself with anyone else and i thought you knew that, rin. i get that your brother strikes a vein in you but don’t i at least deserve to be heard? we’re better than this.”
“yeah? and i thought you’d be better than acquainting with sae like that. you knew how i felt about him, and you did this? fuck that.”
rin walked out on you that night without another word. it felt like he also walked out on your relationship because he started training more. this meant leaving before you even woke up and going home when you were fast asleep.
during those weeks when rin avoided you like the plague despite living under one roof, you felt completely alone and isolated. you were lonely. he spoke to you in words, and he treated you as if your encounter with sae was enough for him to give it all up.
until one day, he comes home to a living room full of bags and boxes. you were there, waiting for him with a tired smile on your face.
for the first time, rin realized that the black circles under your eyes have grown where they weren’t before. he noticed that you are all cried out and now, you’ve got no tears to shed as you leave him.
“w-what’s all this?”
“i’m leaving. i’m sorry for not getting out of your hair faster. it was really hard to look for another apartment that was within my budget but don’t worry, i figured it out.”
“leaving? leaving me? leaving… this house?” which one is it? or fuck, is it both?
“mhm. i f-figured it’s not healthy for us to live under the same roof after everything. i wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable in your own space just because i’m here, so…”
did you really think he wanted you to leave? he wanted to explain. he wanted to tell you that he only acted that way because he was hurt and he was guilty! you don’t have to leave!
but he’s frozen from where he stood. the sight of all your stuff packed up and ready to go was a little bit too much for him.
you stood from where you were seated among the bags and boxes, and you stop in front of him. again, you smile gracefully, in contrast to the breaking heart that almost killed you.
“and rin? i’m sorry again for what happened with sae. i should’ve known better than to do that to you, and i understand that you don’t want to do anything with me because of that.”
he shook his head but you missed it because you walked past him with some of your bags in your hand. “y/n, no. i—“
you hear it and for a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that he will ask you to stay. but he doesn’t continue.
he stops because how could he ask you to stay after how he treated you? it was his fault for not listening and in the end, it was you who apologized? in what fucking universe do i deserve this angel, huh?
he doesn’t stop you from leaving because in that very moment, the thought of you finally escaping from him and his hurtful treatment towards you didn’t seem so bad.
“so, i guess… i’ll see you around. nagi will be around to grab my remaining stuff, so try not to kill each other, yeah?” you try to play it off cool, mask the fact that inside, everything is falling apart.
rin nods but he stayed with his back facing you. until the end, he did not have the guts to face you. to face what he had done to you and your relationship.
suddenly, everything grew cold. everything lost their color. the empty corners of where your warmth used to be mocked him.
for nearly a year since then, he has lived and suffered with the mistakes he did. he didn’t know what to tell people when they started asking about you. he didn’t know how to ride the train without holding your hand. he didn’t know how to be soaked in the shower without letting his tears flow freely.
he wondered endlessly as he daydreamed of speaking to you again: are you hurting too, or is it just me?
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his endless running brings him to your street where you moved when you left him. his feet takes him farther than he expected because this street is on the opposite part of town from your shared apartment, a telltale sign that you tried to get as far away as possible.
evidently, it is not far enough because on your way home from the convenience store, you run into your ex-boyfriend. rin is first to notice your presence, and instead of freezing up like he did when you left, he walks up to you.
“rin?” you are confused and nervous. after all, the last time you had seen him was almost a year ago. you never tried to see him again.
“it hurts.”
the two words he just confessed are two words that he has never said together in a sentence ever in his life. itoshi rin never admits it when something is hurting him. he never tells anyone when he is in pain.
for him to say that now, it is a cry for you to soothe him in a way that only you could, and you know this because you know him better than the back of your hand.
standing a meter away from you underneath a street lamp, itoshi rin confesses his truth.
“it hurts, y/n. it hurts without you. it feels like i can’t breathe. it is so cold without you. it hurts so badly. i thought i could live with it eventually—but i can’t. it only gets worse.”
rin sees your shoulders shake in your attempt to conceal your sobs but you are failing miserably, and so does he. you don’t say anything and rin figures that’s fair.
you already tried to talk. you already told him everything you needed to hear on the night of the fight that ruined your relationship. it’s his turn to tell you everything you deserve to hear.
but he isn’t as good as you when it comes to words. he thinks about how he accused you of cheating on him. he thinks about how he shut you out and left you feeling lonely. he thinks about every day that he could have chased after you but didn’t. he thinks about all of that and he thinks about how he’s sorry.
and he manages to get that last part out, hoping that you would get it. hoping that the deep-rooted connection between the two of you is enough to let you know what he means.
“i’m sorry.”
you drop your groceries to the ground and you close the meter of distance between the two of you. you welcome him in his arms but he wraps his arms around you tighter than you welcomed him, because he is afraid that if he doesn’t, he will lose you again.
“that is all i needed to hear from you, rin. i never wanted much from you. just you and your love. i just needed to know that you still felt that for me, and when i didn’t… i had no other choice to walk away.”
rin nods against your neck and you feel his tears staining your shoulder. “i’m sorry. forgive me, please. i love you. i love you. and i trust you. more than anyone, baby. i promise.”
“you know i could never hurt you like you thought i did—“ you recalled, but rin cuts you off because he can’t bear another second of you defending yourself when you shouldn’t be.
“i know. i know.”
his embrace around you tightens, and he does not care if anyone could look out from their windows and see the soccer star practically begging for you in the middle of the night. not when he is in your arms again after months of only dreaming about it and wishing for it.
“it hurt too much without you too, rin. i had to remind myself that i can’t run to you for warmth. i took everything in me not to throw away my dignity to beg you to bring me back.”
that answers his question.
in his absence, you were hurting too. your separation killed you just like how it killed him.
“no. no—don’t have to beg for it, baby. i should be on my knees to thank you for even taking me back like this because—shit—i swear that i wouldn’t have lasted another day.”
you run your hands through his hair before briefly pulling away to cup his cheek in your hands, and he fondly leans on your touch.
“for the entire year, i thought it was just me who longed for you, rin.”
you couldn’t be any more wrong.
“i begged the stars and the skies for this very moment. it wasn’t just you.”
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fukashiin · 1 year
Text
high school sweethearts au
— w. riddle, ace, leona, jack, octatrio (collectively), jamil, vil, rook, silver, malleus
⤷ oh dear diary, i met a boy, he made my dull heart light up with joy.
a/n: a valentine's day special!! i enjoyed writing this sm<33
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RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS AS
⤷ THE STUDENT LIBRARIAN !
- the student who volunteered for library duties when no one else would. he mostly works behind the counter with his eyes glued to the screen of his computer—looking for the names of those who had overdue books to return. an esteemed honour student at the same time, the envious mixture of methodical and dutiful that makes the role of a student librarian fit him like a glove.
- he mostly reads at his own pace—a fascinating volume of historical topics covered through the years. rusted evidence that he likes to give his own insights on at the tip of his fingers. sometimes people catch him wondering a bit too far, as his eyes stray off to certain page for way too long.
- despite his free time, he still takes care of his own duties that needs to be carried out, from arranging books back to their rightful shelves, tidying up used tables of its multi-coloured eraser shavings and lost pencils that he hands up to the lost-and-found.
YOUR DYNAMIC
- you often stop by the library for self-revision, a thick stack of textbooks that sit pretty at the side of your table as you have your own necessities. you don’t have much to do after this particular study session, so you plan to head back to your own dorm after reliving your memory of the chapters the teachers have went through with you in class today.
- strangely, unknowingly—the table you sit at is always empty. always reserved for a certain someone. that’s when your relationship with riddle started to bloom.
- any time he spots you at the corner of his eye once you enter the air-conditioned space, he throws a small smile your way and elegantly places the book he was reading down to stroll to your side to help you carry your bag that you were sure was about to dislocate your shoulder. 
- he sits by your side whenever you needed help, some topics just simply played a baffling game of chess with your head that you dread to the core. but he’s more than happy to help one way or another. either to point out to you specific key words, gently grabbing the highlighter out of your grasp, initiating eye contact with you with the textbook closed to help you memorise important points for so long the rate of his heartbeat starts to speed up—
- the air between you two really alleviates your burden and the packed schedule you have to attend to on a daily basis. with school is a bucket of workload that’s dumped onto you. with riddle, is a soft feeling. you don’t have to worry about your planned itineraries for the day and you can be yourself for a while.
he’s full comfort, a swift reminder of those drizzly cinnabuns you two go for a bite for when classes are over for the day. 
- it’s no surprise he has his plate full with library duties either. so to pay him back, you offer him to head for a bookstore somewhere outside the campus, assuring him that you’ll deal with things when his mom intervenes for his “unthinkable” behaviour. in return, he’ll purchase as many books for you as want. hard covers, too.
ACE TRAPPOLA AS
⤷ THE PLAYER ON THE BASKETBALL TEAM !
- it’s as in-character as you think it is. you’ve lost count of the number of times he’s pointed a conspicuous finger at you when you’re sitting on the bleachers, yelling out your name and promising he’ll score a shot for you! much to his disappointment (and surprise, for some reason), the ball just bounces right off the hoop and crashes into another player on the team.
- the indoor sports hall is a huge advantage for him since it lets him connect his phone to the bluetooth speakers, letting him blast out his music of choice that consists of endless tracks from nba youngboy and eminem when the coaches were absent and the company could carry on with free training. 
- his classmates adore him, but the teachers hold their breath in at the thought of having him in their class. a truly slothful student to some extent—but is able to ace every test given out. higher authorities wanted to believe their eyes were playing a trick on them when they take a glance at his report card that contained a full, gleaming row of straight A’s.
- cheeky at heart and playfully flirts with whoever he wants just for the fun of it, not to get their contact number just to ghost them later on like he did with a past lover. he’s learned his mistake and he’s willing to do better, both academically and athletically. but he supposes he could get used to the popularity for a while.
YOUR DYNAMIC 
- resists the urge to dropkick his teammates whenever they send out mischievous whistles his direction when they see you with him. he’s just asking for your notes! nothing else in mind like scrawling his phone number down on some lined-paper and slipping it into the back of your notebook in hopes that you notice and send out a few messages to him when you’re back at your place (and develop into something more...?)
- the type of person who didn’t believe in young love at first before he met you. now, you two make small trips to the school cafeteria to purchase your favourite smoothies when practise was stopped to a 5 minute break. smoothly sweet talks his way out of paying—but doesn’t see your kindness to be taken control over. In return, he tells you the answers for the upcoming test he was able to get his hands on, whether you’re going to use them or not.
- denies (anticipated) accusations that you and him were together in an “uncool” manner, according to him. it’s even worse when you’re present, there to see his face burst in pink and his speedy mannerisms, like telling you to “ignore them!” or shoving you into the nearest locker so his friends don’t catch a glimpse of you.
- sometimes his eyes stay on your face for way too long the atmosphere starts to contort into a weird, one-sided stare-off when it’s supposed to be your one-on-one study session with him. you take notice that he’s not looking at the tip of your pen that’s pointing to a specific part of his notes and threaten to poke his eyes out if he doesn’t focus. you could only giggle internally when he fumbles about and retracts his stare from your face.
- questions you if you’ve been in any past relationships, only to reject hearing your answer when he’s too afraid that he may be outshone in some way.
- but you reassure him that you haven’t, and you’re more than happy to enter into one with him. with that, you see him gleefully punch a fist into the air once he’s off on his way to tell his teammates about it, too in his thoughts that he forgets about the teasing he’s about to be bombarded with afterwards.
LEONA KINGSCHOLAR AS 
⤷ THE CLASS SLACKER !
- similar to his junior ace in some ways. petty, bored, but effortlessly gets the highest grade in the class. it’s no surprise that even the overachiever who sits behind him and sees his big, outstanding ‘100′ penned in red at the corner of his paper that easily outdoes their imperfect ‘98′, has to keep their tongue in to ward off the nasty feeling of shooting the rudest vulgarities out of their mouth.
- lessons in session automatically translates to “do whatever you want for the period”—no matter the subject he takes. he often gets caught folding paper origamis or writing down the most prankish notes just to crumble it up and toss it the teacher’s way.
hands a little too skillful has him crafting numberless spitballs that he uses as imaginary missiles to shoot into random people’s hair. the preppy boys can wave a sad goodbye to hair day when leona appears with a handmade launcher in the hallway.
- though with such a behaviour, leona somehow seems to make himself appear approachable from his short-formed responses and dismissive nods. but could anyone have ever guessed that he would act so mind-blowingly different with someone else?
YOUR DYNAMIC
-  if he ever catches your mood down in the dumps, he insists you to come with him to the cat cafe that holds many cuddly creatures to help aid the minds of those tireless students piled with projects to complete with mind-boggling deadlines. either he enjoys getting swarmed by the adorable army of kitties himself, or looks at you with the softest eyes thinking about how you strangely resemble them as you get lost in distant laughter when one of them decide to curl up in your lap.
- sneakily shares his stash of snacks that he managed to shove into his bag at the back of the class when the two of you were luckily placed together during seat arranging. each low-key pass of a sweet was complimented by his deep chuckle as he feels rewarded by the numerous suspicious stares that fly by both of your ways.
- nonchalantly terrifies any cheap intimidators when he catches you getting cornered. you wonder if his initial plan backfired and that he actually made them fall in love with him with his unfairly gorgeous face? (you don’t blame them)
- growls at whoever takes the chance to wake him up from his day-to-day naps, rolling his eyes at their dumbassery when it’s a whole different story when it comes to you. when you do it (with panicked warnings you got beforehand), leona takes a while to get familiar with the touch of your skin and swishes his tail from side to side when he recognises your oh-so sweet scent he cherishes to the moon and back. 
raises an eyebrow at you for being so brave to take the opportunity to wake him up, promising he’ll pay you back tenfold when in fact, he really, really hopes he can grow much more affectionate with you when time passes, until skin contact becomes a normal thing between the two of you.
JACK HOWL AS 
⤷ THE (ACTUALLY SMART) JOCK !
- people genuinely wonder in disbelief why he’s so taken aback by the number of students who swoon over him when they see him doing his daily sets of warm-ups in the gym by himself. his ear twitches in the slightest when he feels four—five, pairs of eyes burning right into his back.
- he’s a lone wolf to some extent- but that doesn’t mean he’ll drive away his friends who thrive to stretch right beside him, despite being a literal twig compared to jack. they’ll all do tons of sets together while emitting the roughest groans from their aching bodies until sweat is seeping ceaselessly out of their outfits.
unsurprisingly, jack is still up and full of stamina as he silently praises himself for not being as slow-minded as his friends since he changed into his p.e attire ahead of time. +10 health gained back for him.
- the coaches normally pick him out as the representative when international competitions are around the corner. with him representing the school, there’s definitely going to be headlines and news reports made about them! except when he actually wins it isn’t. people are seen firing bountiful praises online at jack for his athleticism for a 16 year old, in awe at how he always manages to place first.
- is more than happy to help anyone out when activities take a wrong turn and result in them being injured. whether if it’s being in a wheelchair or in crutches, he takes the opportunity to bring them to their destination on time.
YOUR DYNAMIC
- his eyes immediately dart to you when the teacher announces for everyone to form a pair for pre-activity stretching. he takes the lead to call out what set of stretches to do and helps to adjust your posture or the angle of wherever your arm is pointing to. his firm hands coming in contact with your body invites a quick rush of blood to your cheeks, startled with the sudden proximity that came about. it doesn’t help the fact that his steady breath is on your skin, unaware of his swift movements that he didn’t bat an eye to (why is he like this?)
- when all the physical stuff is done for the day, he’ll give you a small nudge on the shoulder and tell you he’s going to get some water. what took you aback was when you thought he was getting it for himself—being as hardworking as he is, it only makes sense to reward himself for putting up with you and your incapability with some activities.
 - but instead, he brings back two bottles of water, briskly handing one over to you before he open his. he makes sure to assure you that you weren’t a problem at all, and that you deserve a restful break after all your physical exertion.
- not just crazy athletic but simultaneously smart as well! but when his classmates ask for his homework answers in dire need to not be caught by the teacher, he hits them with a “you should’ve done it at home” and gets up from his seat to hand in his work. you don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad for that person. the student then gawks at both you and jack when he lets you in on his answers instead.
- even when he has an enormous fanbase full of people who adore him and wish to talk to him more just for the sake of it, he always makes sure to come to you first, to check in on your health, both mentally and physically, to know that you’re healthy and ready for the day. 
OCTATRIO AS 
⤷ THE POPULAR GROUP !
- as the owners of a lounge that’s quite far from school grounds with quality dishes you’ll never find anywhere else and their dashing looks that shoot an arrow right through people’s lovestruck hearts, it’s no wonder that their popularity skyrockets through the roof when you found out that they go here. you’ve seen a few of the posts they share on magicam—and they’re the perfect definition of young, beautiful, and dirty rich.
- people would kill to watch them pass by in the hallways of the very school they’re in. this trio, with their alluring cologne and clad in neat, tidy clothing that doesn’t even necessarily have to be of the latest trends but still making them look amazing—ambling in the bustling halls? suddenly, lessons were called off for the day and there’s no homework due the day after. the trio quietly snicker to each other in the process.
- there’s definitely a fangroup about them. all they could be doing was to order lunch at the school cafeteria, and the group chat students made based on them would turn wild when floyd faces back to give a sly “cheese~” at the camera that was facing his way.
YOUR DYNAMIC
- unfairly spoils you to death as they give you special discounts at the lounge, telling you that it doesn’t matter whatever you order, their vip customer is always getting 10% off the price. if that’s too low—azul’s more than willing to give you a better benefit. proceeding your easy-earned discounts, jade suggests that they carefully plan out a drink based off of you and your personality, questionable intentions in mind as he proposes the idea to make it the most expensive drink on the menu too.
- absolutely loves to have you sit at their table during break, letting you in on their latest gossip. the amount of intel that they collected on their recent “customer” that created a scene at the lounge for not being open when it clearly had its working hours placed at the entry is rather concerning. floyd gives a shameless wink your way and tells you to not reveal this treasured piece of information. (gaslight gatekeep girlboss)
- weekend sleepovers at their place consists of them researching the finest ingredients and dishes to add to the menu and them serving up some steaming platter for you to try your taste buds on to give some feedback on it.  well, including a small competition to win your heart over as well.
- people are flabbergasted at the amount of attention you receive from these three. “jealous” wasn’t a word too far off to describe their feelings either, and it wasn’t any better. you’d sometimes wonder whether it was a good idea to become friends with this particular trio.
but you can rest assured that they’ll handle with any bad outcomes that dares to come about, and if it’s regarding their large fanbase—they have just the solution. nobody would say no to rushing to the lounge and being up to date with the latest release of their newest dish that you so nicely tried out for them.
- even as the three of them secretly try their best to win your heart over, they’ll also make sure to check with your boundaries and query you if they ever pass the line of comfort. if that so happens anytime, they’ll apologise by doing whatever you want free of charge! they dote on you a whole ton, and truthfully, relish in the time they get to spend with you.
JAMIL VIPER AS
⤷ THE SKATER BOY !
- the student who’s effortlessly charismatic because of his chill and dismissive attitude. the teachers are either pulling their hair out because of him or praising him for being early to class as they spot him waiting outside with him and his rusty ipod he just found that’s been collecting dust in his storage room. he vaguely remembers it as a gift given by a loved one, hence, why he keeps it safe wherever he goes.
- comes to class ROCKING those white vans like okay??? i see you???
- concerning him and school as a whole—it’s just as if he slithers right by his classmates’ attention like how a snake slithers through grass. he’s awfully sly and nimble, skipping class just to head out to the skate park that’s spray painted in graffiti all over by some infamous artists. he personally doesn’t care—it just adds to his presence of mind and how much fun he’s going to have. self-skating sessions are a fresh breather for him, indifferent to his number of absences.
- and don’t forget the secret rush of ego he gets when people stop and stare to watch him do his challenging tricks over the ramps and metal railings. it’s mesmerising how his hair flows so prettily in the wind and the golden glow of the sunset that highlights his features, like, how some people dramatise, an angel fallen from the blinding heavens. jamil rolls his eyes behind their backs once he’s finished his set of tricks.
YOUR DYNAMIC 
- honestly didn’t think of you much when you two first met, but now his heart, baggy clothes, and skateboard are all yours.
- when you spot him alone in the corner of the classroom when it’s a free period, a smile inevitably creeps up his face and he gives a relaxed wave as you come up and say hi to him. you’ve always been rather interested in his music taste and what was playing on those ipods of his, so when you do make it noticeable to him, he takes out the left side of his earphones and places it in your ear for you, fingers brushing the shell of your ears. you hope he didn’t feel how boiling-hot it was.
- daily stop-bys at the vending machine to talk about hot shit. you both agreed to pay for the drinks for the other on some days and do the same back. he finds such a leisure time so precious and, as much as he’s having double thoughts about it, he’d very rather much spend his alone time with you than in a class filled with students. especially when the class clown is present. eugh.
- he’s memorised your go-to drinks by now, and whenever you’re absent from school, he makes an effort to walk to your place to tend to you and hand over your favourite beverage once you’re up and better than ever.
- texts you in the dead of the night, asking if you’d want to head over to the skate park with him there to teach you some tricks he’s learnt on his own accord. agreeing was probably the best thing you’ve done all day, with the built-up pressure you get to release on your time with him as he helps you get rid of your muscle strains. he holds your body close, keeping you balanced on his skateboard as the late night breeze whisks through your clothes and the luminous shine that comes from the stars above makes him feel grateful for being here, with you. alone and together with no one to interfere.
VIL SCHOENHEIT AS
⤷ THE SCHOOL TRENDSETTER !
- as you may have guessed, the student who has the largest following in the entire student body. to help maintain his public image—he makes sure to arrive to school glammed up, with smooth and silky hair he applied the perfect fragrance of rosemary oil on to and his latest combination of outfits that’s bound to go viral both on magicam and in the school. he makes it a habit to bring along his miniature makeup pouch with him wherever he goes!
- instantly gets a whopping 100 views on his latest story he posted on his account about the most recent addition to the school cafeteria’s menu. he’s hyper-aware of his calorie intake, so he probably criticises it in the caption. “0/10. doesn’t make my ass fatter than it is now”
- sometimes has to leave mid-class to attend his monthly photoshoot session. there’s no doubt he’d be starting to pack his things during class and his classmates would already have an idea on where he’s about to go. the close circle of his friend group promises to notify him about the homework that’s going to be due soon, and he makes sure to blend them an incredibly tasteful smoothie he heard about not too long ago in thanks.
YOUR DYNAMIC
- it just had to be one of those days where you’re at your worst. vil can tell as much from your gloomy behaviour and sloppy appearance that does your figure no favours. though he lets out a disapproving click of the tongue, he places his hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that whatever you’re going through will come and go. 
- and, he hands out this one-of-a-kind opportunity to even purchase whatever apparel from the hottest brands that’s to your liking for you. who could ever ask for a better offer?
- if things are still dour, he lets you stay in his room for the night. the type of supportive friend (he hopes not for long?) to give you reassuring affirmations that whoever broke your heart doesn’t deserve you (and he does). he wants you to know that you’re ethereal just the way you are, and you shouldn’t downgrade yourself just because of somebody or something you can pass by. there’s some vinyls he keeps at a shelf at the side of his room,
if you want to play a song of your choice on the record player, he’s more than delighted to let you.
- when annual prom nights are going to take place a few days away, vil rings up his model agency to call upon another fashionista to help out with your outfit for the stirring night you can’t sit still for. converses with the right person they picked out and makes decisions set in stone, with the exact measurements that compliment your figure along with a flawless colour.
he takes the chance to do your makeup for you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because he’s taken familiarity with your visage or to just get his face closer to yours just to fluster you. you’ve taken a wild guess that it’s both.
- once prom is over and the crowd starts to clear out, vil books a cab back to his place so you two can have your well-deserved baths for as long as you want, accompanied by his endless supply of skincare products. he loves seeing you grow and blossom into a better person. he’ll make sure to do it alongside you, until he actually claims your heart.
ROOK HUNT AS
⤷ THE THEATRE KID !
- a cheerful soul who skips through the halls while humming a tune from one of the latest musicals he watched. his seemingly never-ending glee that lights the hallways up in an eye-blinding radiance is beyond people’s comprehension. rook, frankly, doesn’t mind the stares he gathers from such a spaced-out area, as long as he does his other theatre friends good in promoting the drama club.
- people mostly catch him hanging around in the auditorium, sitting with the other club members as they take out their practise on vocalisation and in depth emotion building. newcomers of the club deeply look up to him, as the most passionate member of the club where all the roles he’s taken on has made his heart soar above the clouds.
- one of the volunteers who helped in producing the script for the upcoming play the club is putting together. he advances in dramatising the scripts if they’re too flat in tone or feeling, even adding the most unnecessary dialogues of french, which the majority of the cast doesn’t even know a lick of. though, he makes a vow to them to teach it until they’re all absolutely wasted to the point where practise wouldn’t even be going anywhere.
- works hand in hand with vil behind the stage, who helps to sew up suitable costumes and applying the makeup for the cast in the makeover studio.
YOUR DYNAMIC
- it’s utterly embarrassing—but he vocalises ALL his poems and thoughts about you that he recited back at his place to prepare for the public audience. by audience, I mean everyone at the cafeteria.
he sings all of the praises he’s been holding in since the day he made mere eye contact with you while standing on an occupied table, most likely taken by the misfits. he sees it as his own individual stage and seizes the opportunity in his hands. you’re dying to go hide in the nearest restroom.
- encourages you to audition for the latest play his club is planning, (secretly) wanting you to take up the role that jointly has a special form of relationship with his! he gives an overly joyful “that’s up to the judges!” when you ask him who would be playing the other role. how many times has he made you uneasy again? (you don’t want to admit that you do enjoy being with him.)
- he’ll make sure to schedule a period off to help you practise and perfect the script that was chosen for you in the empty auditorium. he eagerly savours the time he gets to hear you, your beautiful voice, out loud, like never ending music to his ears.
- aside from the dorms, he lives in a multimillion neighbourhood, and he would be ecstatic to bring you over to his place anytime. you’re slack-jawed the second you enter his home, a wealthy interior designed by specially chosen professionals just for his house. he drags you by the wrist to watch the latest musical that was released in the theater that his family chose to install.
- so—the set of people who were chosen for the roles are out? you’re glad, but rook is a leaping ball of sunshine when he takes a glance at the name list (as if he didn’t play a part in convincing the judges one way or another). he genuinely cannot wait to see you shining so brightly on stage, as he prepares a divine bouquet of roses he’s planning to give you once it’s all over to congratulate you for all the untiring effort you’ve put into this play.
SILVER AS
⤷ THE FLOATER !
- luckily for him, he wasn’t the type of student who garnered much attention after being transferred to the school. he’s received some greetings by those who actually mean it, but all in all is content with where he’s placed in for now.
- being a regular loner has him sitting outside on the unoccupied bench for him to eat his lunch. a simple but memorable ham and cheese sandwich which he remembers getting spoiled with from his caretaker since early childhood. he holds everything they do immensely close to his heart, thankful for having the utmost kindest person in the world to look after him. he’ll make sure to pay back for everything he’s indebted to when he’s older.
- with restless desires to grow familiar with the school grounds, he takes a small walk to the library and school store to send a salutation to riddle, the boy who’s in the same year as him and the shop’s very own Mr. S, a guy who’s devoted a ton of his life to this shop. silver thinks about how there’s so many sentimental people who wander this school, a little of the opposite of his stone-faced persona.
YOUR DYNAMIC
- he’ll admit, he was slightly taken aback when you fearlessly took a seat next to him on the bench when he wasn't on guard. he jumps a little, thinking there was a nearby predator who was ready to pounce on him any second. but no—it was another regular student who roams the school halls like any other. he’s never seen you before despite being the one who joined the school later—in fact, he’s never really been with a familiar face other than sebek.
- but you just smile and giggle at him when you notice his lost nature. ah, he felt a flare of life ignite in him with such unforeseen kindness being thrown at him. there’s no doubt he's going to be the slightest bit wary of you, but you take his uninterested course of actions as a yes and stay by him for the rest of the period. 
- you don’t make voice the fact that it was you who carefully placed the bundle of flowers on his head when he fell asleep on the arm rest.
- after a few months of hushed whispers and note-sharing in the middle of class, he presents the idea for the both of you to own your own personal diary to journal your daily happenings. a secret note-taker, between two hearts that flicker with a hint of trust for the other.
you both enjoy reading what the other has written for the day, and silver hopes that he’ll be able to point out the tiniest bit of a confession you could’ve possibly written down somewhere for him, as much as how insensitive he is.
- while classes are out and people start to take their leave, you and silver are to stay back to dutifully complete your classroom cleaning before the next day of lessons. who knew such a mere task could put the both of you in a difficult situation? you both reach your hand out to grab the duster to wipe the board, only for your fingers to graze each other as a spark of electricity courses through your bodies, feeling warmer than ever.
- when you’re finally done, it coincidentally starts pouring out of the blue. with the both of you standing at the school entrance, silver strips off his cardigan and uses it to shelter you, holding your figure close as the both of you run in the rain like your lives depend on it. he wishes you didn’t have to arrive at a gazebo so soon, he still wanted to see you, in his clothes for as long as he wanted.
MALLEUS DRACONIA AS
⤷ THE (NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER !
- often gets recognised for his godly visuals, though he doesn’t pay much mind to them? yes, he makes an effort to keep himself presentable as a wielder of royal blood, but he doesn't see all the craze over his face. his aloofness only makes people swoon over him even more.
- he’s rather quiet in these busy halls. he charmingly excuses the person who accidentally bumped into him head-first, proceeding with his walk until he arrives and stops in front of one particular locker. onlookers goggle absently, thinking about what he’s doing in front of another person’s locker? his is way further away than where he is, so what..?
- malleus sighs in contempt when the bell indicating the next lesson’s beginning rings.
- class is dismissed for lunch and stays glued to his seat as he pulls out an ancient history book to pick up where he left on. his table is uncluttered, and he places the well-researched tome on his desk as he starts reading through its contents once again. nobody is aware of his hidden yearning for a specific person to come running by, catching him in their view through the window, saying the most, honey-sweet “hello!” anyone could ever dream of.
YOUR DYNAMIC
- it’s not much of a secret admirer at this point, when it’s so glaringly obvious who it is. as if he was starring in a Hollywood film, glances at all directions in his way to make sure no one was present to disrupt this long-awaited momentum. once again, he stops by at your locker to open it and set down the letter, inside. one that was signed off with his initials as he positions an aromal rose just beside it.
- with the help of his relatives who are comfortable with internet devices—he’s able to search up the latest trends of deserts and lattes from the nearest coffee shop that’s located somewhere near. he’ll ask you if you’d like to journey with him into the city to a particular eatery that grasped his fancy, he assures you that he has the money, and he made sure to reserve a seat on the balcony as well.
- daily alone time with him in the music room as he gracefully plays the violin for you that only makes you swerve his lane even more. with the doors shut and the curtains closed—not fully as to block the outside light—the most euphonious tunes fill the dim lit room as pure gold spill over the strings. an individual performance he dedicated all and just for you.
- when the end of the school year is near, he readies himself to confess to you with all his body and soul. he takes it upon himself to call up a meeting with you outside of school in the evening, just when the glorious sun starts to set.
he talks his promise, rubbing your deathly cold hands in his, and voices his words of honour to make you the most fortunate person alive to be with him. who could ever ask for a better confession?
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kedsandtubesocks · 2 months
Text
your heart, a sonnet
Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader
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summary: you discover there’s more to your boyfriend than you realize
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, surprise hidden identity reveal, grumpy but soft!Joel who has a secret love language of writing and love letters, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s), light discussion of reader and Joel’s insecurities, reader is addressed as darlin/honey/baby, a few spicy moments where Joel gets handsy
word count: 5.3k
a/n: I know, I know… this doesn’t seem like the typical Joel fic but i blame Pedro’s look at the Hollywood star walk of fame ceremony because it immediately made me think ‘oh that’s Joel’ and now here we are lol I couldn’t have done this without my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you and i can’t thank her enough along with @ahauntedcowboy for always letting me scream about all my wild ideas, and now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡
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You first met Joel at a bookstore.
The weekend after your birthday you went in to treat yourself and wandered into the records section of the store. As you flipped through the selections, the sudden sight of a Fleetwood Mac album had you inhaling sharply in surprise.
“S’good one.” That’s when the sudden smooth drawl of a southern accent floated out to you.
A few steps beside you stood an absolutely gorgeous man. The evergreen plaid button up shirt he wore flattered him as if it was made to be only worn by him. Rugged and distinguished, he seemed like a romance hero plucked straight out from one of the books among the shelves. You even blinked a few times wondering if he was real.
“If you don’t take it, might have to fight ya for it.” Even with his gruff low voice, an underlying teasing nature radiated friendly and light.
Now, many months later, a piece of you believes you might have fallen for him right then and there.
Joel is a rare beautiful soul of a man. He’s strong and a bit rough around the edges. He used to work as a contractor, even managed to build a very reputable business with his brother. His hard work remains effortlessly etched into his hands that now type editing books, his current job. He’s kind, so deeply loyal and loves fiercely.
With a yawn, you slip out of bed to pull on his cozy Texas longhorn shirt.
Heading downstairs, you walk among the clouds.
Instead of working at his office desk, Joel sits at the dining table typing away. Just seeing him wear his reading glasses sends a delicious desire trickling through you like a soft rain.
His dark earth eyes flicker up over the edge of his laptop and his gaze softens.
“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up.” His wonderfully smooth as molasses voice makes you want to get caught up in its sticky sweetness.
“It’s not even that late. You’re one who woke up wanting to get work done on a Saturday.” You scoff playfully yet press your lips to his, a soft good morning greeting.
“Besides…who’s the reason I slept in so soundly, hm?” You smile against Joel’s lips that now twitch with a smirk.
His large warm hand slowly creeps up against your bare leg and rubs soft against your skin. After a few sleepy kisses, Joel’s tongue smoothly slips into your mouth trying to now consume you with a syrupy heat.
Joel pulls you down onto his lap. Your hands run up his chest to his cherub curly gray hair. His lips leave yours to start nipping at your jaw.
“What happened to working, cowboy?” You sigh softly.
“Come keep me company, darlin’.” He breathes out and any hope of maybe making breakfast is happily forgotten.
The rest of the morning unfolds at a nebulous pace you bask in.
When a late brunch is finished and you start cleaning up the kitchen, Joel’s warm solid hands map out your hips with other plans in mind. He slides behind you, a towering comfort that you lean back against.
“You’re extra handsy today Mr. Miller.” You tease.
“I can stop?” Joel offers while his scruffy beard scrapes a path against your skin. Against you, his broad shoulders, his wonderfully built frame, wraps you in his protective cover.
You hum a content no and move your hands over his now.
“Just wanna enjoy being with ya before I get busy.” Joel mutters while his hand slides down your cozy lounge shorts.
You had forgotten about his upcoming work plans.
You already want to mourn the impending weekend without him, but that can wait for another day. Especially when his thick fingers delicately, so sinfully, run up and down your underwear playfully touching you.
But then that weekend arrives and it brings a hollowness.
Lounging on the couch back at the apartment you share with your best friend, you force yourself not to text Joel again. He’s busy and you know this. So you vow to hold all your yearning and longing chained inside like a Jane Austen heroine.
“Are you done sulking?” Your best friend teases from the kitchen and you glare at her from the couch.
“I get it, being awake from your hunky handsome older boyfriend is hard. What will you ever do?” She snickers playfully. You’re tempted to throw the nearby couch pillows at her.
“What did you say his job was?” She asks.
“He used to be a contractor, but now he’s a book editor.” You answer.
“A hardworking hot Texas cowboy who reads and is a good man? Yeah, keep him locked up.” Your best snorts and you understand exactly what she means.
Fanged temptation claws at you more to text him again. Joel promised he would call you tonight and you don’t doubt him. But you didn’t realize how badly you’d missed him.
“Alright,” your best friend declares. “No more moping! I’m dragging you out with me to that book signing I’ve been talking about.”
She’s been obsessed with this apocalyptic novel series for so long. You happily tag along and even perk up when you see how excited she gets.
“And the author is finally doing a book tour! He’s kept his identity hidden this entire time so I wanna get a chance to maybe just even see him!” Your best friend gushes the entire time she drives you both to the bookstore the signing would be held.
Just so happens it’s the same bookstore where you first met Joel. A deep surge of affection swallows you whole and you float on blissful lovesick nostalgia.
Then the impressive line already waiting outside the front doors stuns you.
“I told you! It’s a big deal! Plus the series is so good.” Your best friend exclaims. She has been trying to get you into the series for a while.
The core of it focuses on two young girls who manage to survive an apocalyptic fungal zombie outbreak. The series follows the girls growing up, the journey to live with each other, and how it slowly bonds them as sisters.
“I heard they’re trying to make a Netflix series on it.” Your friend adds hopeful.
You can’t help but snag your best friend’s book copy she also hopes will get signed. Flipping through the front pages you land to the dedication page.
“To my baby girls, this will always be for you two.”
The author must have based the series on their daughters. That’s adorable.
Now curious, you flip to the first chapter.
“After seeing the end of the world, after witnessing the carnage of life consume itself, Ellie thinks she’s seen it all.”
Your best friend's sudden excited laugh pulls you out of the book. She’s talking with the other fans in line and you decide to join in.
Everyone discusses how worth the wait will be and how most of them even purchased the newest released book to make sure they reserved a slot for the signing.
“So why’s the author finally doing a face reveal?” You ask quietly not wanting to seem too out of place.
“So apparently,” your best friend begins in her hush about to spill the good gossip voice. “Some random ass moron on Twitter came out and said they were the true author. It became a whole messy issue of who it really was.”
Your best friend goes into more detail about how even a couple of online sites had articles on it.
“That’s awful.” You sympathize with the author. It must’ve been a headache trying to enjoy the peace of anonymity only for it becoming something used against them. You can only imagine how heartbreaking it was to see others steal and take credit for your work.
Like a surprise strike of lightning, an electric excitement suddenly breaks through the air.
Glancing up, you watch the line rapidly move towards the front doors. Time to go in.
Unfortunately, the main seating for the reading and q&a fills up fast. The bookstore though manages to wrangle the remainder of the crowd that can fit on the first floor towards a section where they can watch. It’s more than enough for your best friend who’s about to burst with anticipation. The buoyant commotion in the room even pulls you into its current and you get excited to see the new surprise author.
Soon a chic handsome older looking man, the moderator of the event, scurries to the front of the gathered group.
Warmly he begins the introduction to the writer.
First, writing sweet children’s books, stories for his daughters, those works became the author’s first publications. After that he navigated apocalyptic writing and his hit series has earned critical acclaim.
“Simply known as the anonymous writer J Miller. I’ve had the greatest pleasure to know this man as both his friend and now agent and I’m beyond proud to introduce him to you. Everyone please help me in welcoming J Miller!”
The thunderous applause and screams of excitement galvanize the entire room.
Then Joel walks out from the side.
Your heart instantly leaves your body.
For a moment you think your lovesick yearning heart has you slightly projecting Joel in any man you might see.
But the minute you focus, truly watch him slide into the chair, you see him.
Soft gray grown out curls, a strong beautiful nose, the patchy beard with the spots you love to kiss, and his reading glasses - the ones he’s so self conscious about because of how they make him look “so good damn old,” yet you love how they distinguish and elevate his appearance. You even remember the first time Joel wore them while he read waiting for you.
Truth makes its way into your heart.
It’s Joel.
The famous mystery author is your Joel.
“Thanks Frank.” And when he takes the mic, thanking his agent, his slick southern sunset voice melts the crowd.
“So, uh he’s gorgeous?!” Someone behind you squeals.
“Who would’ve thought he’d be this hot?!” Someone adds.
The whispers and mummers swarm like wasps buzzing all around you and you want to swat at them.
You can’t wrap your mind around this or the amount of emotions rushing through you. You feel separated from your body, floating detached from the scene and trying to gather yourself back.
Why didn’t he tell you?
Did he not trust you?
Joel suddenly laughs at something Frank says, that gruff wonderful laugh you hear after you show him a ridiculous video or his daughters tease him. It snaps you back into awareness.
“He’s about to read a section!” Your friend giddily whispers under her breath
Now you fully focus on this man, this almost stranger.
He’s so handsome it isn’t fair. He looks like a distinguished professor and your throat tightens seeing how broad his shoulders look in the dark casual suit jacket he wears.
“One of my favorite parts.” He admits quietly. “It’s when Ellie and Sarah realize they can make it outta Pittsburgh together.”
His daughters. He named his characters after them.
Joel clears his throat and begins.
He reads the passage with a magnetic cadence. The words slip from him like the smooth drink of whiskey that lingers on your tongue. When he finishes, an ache twists in your chest.
The applause he gets is shatteringly loud. The smallest bit of pride does float through you. But confusion drowns it out.
The floor now opens to quick questions. Some are about the book itself and the certain decisions made writing wise. Others are obviously about why he stayed hidden for so long.
That one perks you up quickly.
In such typical Joel fashion, he shrugs.
“Just couldn’t figure out Twitter, s’all.”
Everyone laughs at his playful reply and you do as well, but it sounds hollow and watery.
Soon enough the last question arrives.
“Do you ever see yourself writing for any other genres? I mean, we’ve seen horror and some moments of romance in the series. So I’m just curious if you’d write anything else?!” The lady asks brightly and now you simply settle your thoughts aside to listen.
Joel chuckes, a bit breathless and his gaze drops. This entire time he’s teetered between a sly southern charm that’s hypnotized you, to being guarded almost a bit nervous.
But now a boyishly hesitant grin falls over him and it’s so familiar.
”Uh, guess romance would be the next I’d maybe try.” He answers low, bashful.
The crowd erupts into fangirl like shrieks.
“Right?! I keep saying he doesn’t know the potential he has if he became a romance writer!” Frank, who has such a bright and lovely personality, adds.
Too many emotions clash in you.
You wonder if he wants to explore romance writing because of you?
Or a much harsher voice creeps out from the back of your mind whispering maybe you’re just being used for source material.
You quickly stomp those thoughts away.
The rest of the event shifts to the signing and you walk in a sort of guided daze.
“You okay?” Your best friend asks gently, noticing your slight mood change.
You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth yet. This was something she had been looking forward to and you didn’t want to ruin her excitement or experience. So you wearily just smile and tell her your head simply started hurting.
She sympathetically nods.
“Thankfully we won’t be waiting too long.” She adds and explains how the signing would be called by groups.
“We might not have gotten seats, but we did manage to sneak into group A for the signing.” She grins proud and it lifts your spirits.
The line curls against the sides of the bookshelves blocking your view of Joel. It becomes both a blessing and a curse.
Maybe you should wait in the car for his and your sake?
However, something inside you slightly bitter, raw and wanting answers, decides to stay. Besides you, your dear friend tries to keep herself calm but you can sense her bubbling nervous energy.
“I’d be calmer if he wasn’t so damn attractive.” She hisses and a jealous flare gently rises in you.
“Just think,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”
The relieved comforted grin she gives you makes staying worth it. But then all of that flies out the window the closer and closer you get to Joel.
Petrified dread claws its way in when you realize your best friend is next in line.
“He looks kinda familiar now that we’re closer.” The casual comment your friend says makes your heart sink.
“Maybe.” You mutter.
The times Joel has been to your place your roommate, your best friend, has been either at work or sleeping. You can only think of the first instant you introduce Joel to her when he picked you up on a date.
Your eyes flicker straight to Joel.
His hair seems so perfectly curled and his dark jacket highlights his wonderful grays.
Thankfully, any discussion of who he might look like gets squashed because your best friend gets called next in line. She turns to you squeaking excitedly and you beam back bright.
Joel lifts his eyes up, like a true southern gentleman wanting to give someone his full attention.
You wait on the side and watch the interaction unfold. Joel chuckles at something your best friend says and you’re glad she’s enjoying herself.
The book signing is done so fast. In a blink, it’s finished. With her newly signed book, your friend turns to you. She makes a slightly embarrassing but endearing noise of excitement that has you laughing.
That’s when your eyes flicker over to Joel and your gaze locks with his.
Instantly, Joel’s handsome face drops. His gorgeous earth eyes widen as he immediately recognizes you. His mouth falls open slightly and a flash of something close to fear fills the depths of his eyes.
He breathes out your name on a shaky exhale.
Everything seems to slow and stop. You don’t know what to say. So all you do is weakly smile.
The fleeting moment fades. The next group in line already giggles moving towards the table.
Time’s up. Turning on your heels to leave with your friend, Joel calls out to you, calls your name.
“Wait!”
You freeze.
Glancing back at him, Joel’s eyes pin you on the spot. An unspoken heaviness hangs in his deep eyes while he stares intently at you.
“It’s okay, we’ll talk later.” By some strange possession of slight bravery, or maybe delusion, you manage to speak.
But it’s all you can say and it’s all you can do before Frank, Joel’s agent, slides in to whisper something to him.
The moment again shatters.
Your best friend however grills you the rest of the day
That’s when you pull out your phone. You show her a photo you secretly took of Joel. It’s one where he’s adorably glaring at his ipad while he tried ordering take out for dinner.
Your best friend shrieks. “He’s your boyfriend?!”
He is.
Your boyfriend, Joel, is a writer, a very famous best selling author.
And that weight yanks you under a dangerous current you can’t seem to swim against.
Even after lunch, even getting back to your apartment and trying to settle your thoughts, your emotions are still so tangled.
You mindlessly scroll through your phone for the rest of the day and a blink, you notice it’s already early evening. Your plan to stay sulking is ruined when your phone starts ringing so loud.
It’s Joel.
“Hello?” You answer as composed as you can.
“Darlin?” His beautiful rich voice sounds hesitant and guarded.
“Hi.” You reply back quietly.
“Can we talk?” He asks just as low.
You agree, expecting to have the discussion on the phone. Except a knock taps on your apartment door and scares you right out of your body.
Ever proactive, ever the man who takes action, Joel stands waiting for you when you open the door.
You’re thankful more than ever that your best friend went to the gym for the evening.
“Wanna sit outside for a bit? Maybe get some air? S’really nice outside today.” He offers gentle.
He’s breaking up with you. That’s what your mind jumps to.
At least the weather is surprisingly kind this early evening.
You’ve sat out here on your apartment’s decent sized balcony with Joel before. But now the energy between you and him shifts strangely.
The sky stretches above a soft sherbet orange. A breeze comes, thankfully not too cold, but you think about maybe heading in to grab a blanket.
Joel however quickly slings off his jacket and drapes it over you. Always the gentleman.
The smell of his cologne, so comforting and masculine, wraps around you like a cloud.
You thank him with a soft small smile and Joel nods. Then he sighs and leans forward on the folding chair.
“Always loved the outdoors.” He begins, a small olive branch of a conversation to break the tension. “The girls and I love hiking the trails out by the lake. You ever been?”
You shake your head no.
“Maybe one day we can all go together.” The comment holds hope, a delicate thread of it. Yet you catch the hesitation.
Your eyes flicker to him, confused and cautious.
“Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me?” You blurt out, maybe just wanting to get it over with. You hate the way your voice cracks slightly.
Joel, with his beautiful concerned wide eyes, snaps his face to you.
“What? Honey no. Thought maybe you’d be the one maybe tryin’ to break up with me.” Joel, who Sarah jokes about how some of their neighbors question if he’s perpetually grumpy, stares at you with a tenderness that melts you to your core.
You can’t help but laugh watery.
“Why d’ya think I’d want to end things with you?” He asks patiently.
You can think of so many.
He’s a famous writer who’s about to maybe become an online sensation. He’s older than you, wiser and seasoned. He’s a full on father with young teenage daughters.
So you reveal your heart to him and all the fears that dwell in its shadows. You wipe away a few tears that manage to spill out.
Joel moves to hold your hands in his, a guarded warmth and protection keeping you stable.
With a heavy sigh, Joel’s attention fully focused on you.
“Honey…I’m so sorry for not telling you about my work, about me, sooner.” He earnestly apologizes and his words drip with comforing earnesty.
Now his gaze drops down to where your hand sits in his.
“Didn’t want it complicatin’ things with us. I knew I had to tell you eventually. But really…I was worried you’d see me differently once you knew. I know I don’t seem like the writin’ type anyway.” He mutters and you miss the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone.
You squeeze his hands.
This could never make you look at Joel in a negative light. If anything, you now feel proud knowing he’s a writer. You do explain your worries though and the ache you felt knowing he kept his from you.
“I know darlin’ and I promise,” he squeezes your hands now. “No more secrets between us.”
“You…us…means more to me than you’ll know.” He adds and you draw his hands up to your mouth.
You kiss his worn hands, his hard working beautiful hands that now move to hold your face so tenderly in their grasp. His thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately as if you’ll disappear from his sight.
“Can I kiss ya baby?”
You nod and in that same breath Joel pulls you towards him. He kisses you light, delicate enough that you feel so precious and treasured within his hold.
It seems like such a simple small kiss but it soaks into your bones.
You have so many questions. And as much as you’d like to make out with your boyfriend on the balcony, you’d like answers.
So you pull away and stand up.
Joel looks adorable as confusion paints his face.
“Don’t worry I’m just getting us a blanket.” You grin at him as you sling on his jacket claiming it as your own.
Blanket in hand you now curl up with him in the lawn chair, thankful for its sturdiness and cozy size. Your heart soars at how quickly Joel pulls you into his arms and basically onto his lap.
It feels like it’s been months since you’ve last been with him, or maybe that’s just how exhausting today was.
Joel sighs content and pleased once you fully rest against him. Hesitantly you ask if it’s okay if you can talk about him, about his work.
“Ask away honey. I’ll tell ya everything n’ anything.” He says firm.
You grin and your thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.
“So what made you decide to reveal yourself now? I heard there was an issue about someone saying they were you?” You ask, thinking of the discussions earlier with your best friend.
“Yeah..” Joel now sighs tired with an ancient weariness that settles over his handsome face.
“Sarah was the one who saw it first on Twitter or wherever it was.” He adds with a grumble.
Your heart aches knowing one of the girls saw it first.
“Didn’t help either that I ain’t online. So it became a whole fuckin’ mess we had to deal with it a couple months back.”
A light bulb goes off inside your brain.
“Was that when you said you had to visit a family friend out of town?” You connect the dots.
“Yup.” Joel nods. “Went to visit Frank, my agent, to try and figure this shit out. Could’ve let it all maybe die down but… ya know.” He huffs and you understand completely.
Joel is too stubborn, a bit too prideful. You almost snort amused just over the thought of him trying to let the situation blow over.
“Frank wants to meet ya by the way.” Now his voice dips with a bashful tone while his hands begin softly stroking your thighs.
“I’d love to meet him too.” You truthfully tell Joel.
“So, are you going to be online now? Should I start making secret accounts to follow you?” You now tease and Joel barks a beautiful amused laugh.
“Baby, I’m over 50. The only apps I need on my phone are candy crush and ESPN. Ain’t got the time or patience for social medias.”
Now you’re the one laughing.
It feels freeing, blissful, like this is the first moment you’re spending time with him all over again. Yet, there’s a deeper sacred connection that settles.
You can’t help but kiss him again and Joel eagerly welcomes you on his lips.
Now his lips move fervently, almost possessively, against yours, licking and trying to consume you. A small moan squeaks out of you.
“Come on baby,” he mutters, shifting you against his lap so that you fully feel his hardness straining against his pants. “Wanna taste ya.”
You’re thankful you manage to drag him back inside because you can’t imagine getting intimate with Joel on the balcony. Well, at least not yet. But that was a thought for another day.
Now in the afterglow’s soft relaxing peace you wish for more time with him.
But Joel must sense that ache too.
“S’late honey. Come back home with me. Even if it’s just for the night.” He mutters against your lips and you can’t deny him. You don’t want to deny him or the aching tug pulling you to him.
That night you fully embrace every inch of the man Joel Miller is and let a dizzying adoration for him swallow you whole.
The next morning, in the soft early still dark shade of his room, Joel wakes you with a tender kiss to your forehead.
“Gotta go meet with Frank for the day. I’ll see ya later, honey.” He mutters against your cozy heated skin.
You hum a soft agreement and sleepily wish him a goodbye before falling back to sleep. After that, you wake up later to a colder and empty bed.
Tugging on another one of Joel’s shirts you head downstairs already missing his presence.
And when you get downstairs, there on the table sits the most gorgeous floral arrangement. Its beautiful vibrant blooms make your heart flutter so fast against its cage.
A folded paper sits beside the flowers. Your name is written on the front in Joel’s slightly chicken scratch like handwriting.
You scramble fast to grab it.
A letter, he’s written you a letter.
“Honey,
I know I’ve already apologized and you’ve forgiven my old undeserving ass.”
You snort at that line but continue on.
“But I just wanted to fully apologize to you again. Might take me a while until I stop, but just be patient with my old bones yeah?”
You would. Your heart would and will always wait for him.
“Doesn’t seem like it but, I aint that good at talking about things, about my feelings. Shocker right?”
You smirk. You know he isn’t good with words - that’s why it almost feels ironic and a bit unreal that he’s an author.
You’ve discovered Joel shows his affection through his actions.
He spent an entire day rearranging a business scheduling conflict just so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about it. Joel never missed a single one of Ellie’s basketball games. Sarah only prefers a certain type of orange juice and Joel never fails to only get that one.
The first few weeks you started dating Joel you got sick with a nasty cold. He dropped off a whole bag of various items like tissues and cough drops. It was then you knew his heart shines through his actions.
He sometimes surprises you with an order from your favorite take out spot. He never lets you touch a door, always opening them for you instead. He’s the most generous lover and never fails to remind you of how tender, how consuming, his passion can be.
Joel does grumble, sometimes even seems grouchy, but he loves fiercely.
And now here he is showing you this side of him, this form of himself as a writer.
So you return to reading his letter.
“I got into writing because it helped me process all my emotions, my thoughts, the good and bad days - everything. And sharing my writing with others, especially with someone as important as you, still makes me feel so vulnerable. Funny how that worked out though huh? Guess fate wanted to drag my ass and make me face my fears and vulnerability and whatnot.”
Someone as important as you - The line makes your heart flutter.
“I know I told you the reasons why I didn’t tell you. But another reason was because I was afraid.
I was afraid of how much you mean to me. Telling you about this part of me would be taking a bigger step. And it scared me shitless. Cause darlin’ I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. Like, as Ellie loves to say, in such a long time that ‘dinosaurs weren’t even fossils.’
That makes you laugh a bit watery but you let his words carry you again.
“You make my damn heart race when you smile. I get so worked up just seeing you walk around my house as if you were always meant to be here. And I didn't want to lose that either. I still don’t.
You feel like a bright future, like waking up after a cloudy week and the sun greets you so nicely. And I just wanna stay in that warmth, your warmth.
Yeah sorry, that line might be too romance novel writer for my league…but like I said I’m thinking about it. And it’s because of you.
We said no more secrets yeah?
So I’m not lying when I say you’ve become so god damn important to me. And I wanna see more days with you, as many as you’ll have with me.
Fuck. This damn letter already feels too long and I hate my old ass for rambling and maybe not making sense. But I adore you honey. Plain in simple.
And I’m just gonna leave it at that.
Don’t miss me too much and I’ll see you soon.
P.S I picked that bookstore as the tour’s first stop here because it’s where I met you… and I’ll always be grateful for that
-Joel”
You now fight back an absolute ocean’s worth of adoration for this man.
Tears clog your throat and you try not letting them flood your vision, but it’s so hard. So hard when you’re this head over heels.
You don’t want to say it yet, and you don’t know if he’s even ready to say it, but the emotion filling you like a newborn star feels like love.
You barely manage to send out a text thanking him and hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.
Joel, ever the endearing man he is, replies back with a simple heart emoji and you laugh.
You really might love this man.
And you hope, you so brightly hope, that he maybe loves you too.
You think of his book series, of how he became a writer simply wanting to tell his daughters stories. Those stories grew out of his love for them and now he gets to crystallize that among his pages.
You realize how writing truly is its own form of love.
After all, what better way for a writer to show their love, their heart, than to capture you in their words?
You think that’s where writers must live now, in the heart. Or maybe - your maybe gruff handsome one just does. And you happily welcome Joel’s place in yours and hope he resides there forever like a love poem etched into your very soul.
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satorusugurugurl · 11 days
Note
i love ur work sosososisoso much <33 thank y for sharing ur writing ahh!!! could i request a satosugu fic where toru gets punished by sugu and reader??! maybe for like.. getting off alone or flirting w someone else?
Summary: You and Geto went to a local bookstore, leaving Gojo to fend for himself at home. It’s not like the two of you didn’t invite your boyfriend to join you on your outing. But shopping for books, of all things, didn’t spark his interest. But as the boredom of being alone settles in his bones, he decides to do the only thing that sounds remotely fun. Beating his meat.
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!Reader x Geto Suguru
Word Count: 2,876
Warning: Masturbation, cursing, oral sex, degrading, edging, smut, creampies, holy
A/N: Anon thank you so so much for the sweet words! I'm glad you're enjoying my stories! ❤️❤️❤️🥹This gave me brain worms and I just had to write it! Two of my weaknesses are SatoSugu x Reader and masturbation.
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Lazy Sunday Afternoon
”Are you positive you don’t want to come with us?” Suguru questioned, cocking an eyebrow at his white-haired boyfriend. “We were thinking about stopping for lunch after.”
”Nah.” Satoru is leaning against the wall, watching as you tie your tennis shoes. “The idea of a crowded bookstore makes my skin crawl. Plus, that's you guys’ thing. Books and reading.” He shrugged his shoulders lazily.
You hooked your arm through Suguru’s, leaning your head against his upper arm. “Okay, do you want us to bring you anything home?”
”Nope, have a good time. I’ll see you when you get back.” He waved his partners off with a smile before heading back to the living room to enjoy his Sunday afternoon.
The first hour was fun, trashy reality television, and the cupcakes you had made the previous day. Thirty minutes later, he groaned, flipping through Netflix to try to find something, anything to watch. Two hours into being alone, all by himself, Satoru groaned as he started to regret his decision to stay behind.
The apartment was so quiet and lonely with you or Suguru there. The room wasn’t as bright and full of the life it usually radiated. Jeez, was this what his life had been like before the three of you had gotten together two years ago? He was so used to going on dates, cooking food, and just existing in each other's presence now. What had he used to do in his tiny dorm when he was alone?
He would eat take-out, play on his phone, and jerk off to porn videos on Twitter.
Satoru sat up straight, a grin slowly tugging at his mouth. Yeah, he used to jerk off constantly. Since you three got together, he didn’t need to please himself. Seeing as either you were sucking him off, or Suguru was giving him a handy in the shower. It was like heaven, being able to experience pleasure with the two of you.
But thinking about wrapping his hand around his cock, going at his own pace, had him throbbing with excitement. You and Suguru wouldn’t be back for a bit. When you two shopped for books, you shopped—going down each aisle, flipping through pages, geeking out over your favorite series. He had plenty of time to jerk off and recover in case things got heated once his two partners returned home.
Leaning back onto the couch, Satoru turned the television to some random movie on Netflix. Mostly for background noise, and if you two were to come home in the middle of his solo session, this might cover him until he could readjust himself. With his eyes on the screen, Satoru slowly began rubbing his cock through his gray sweatpants. Up and down, just warming himself up.
Gojo was surprised that he was as hard as he was already. Was it the excitement of possibly getting caught or just that he hadn’t pleased himself in so long? Whatever the case, maybe he could care less. All that he could focus on with the warmth that was beginning to settle in his groin as he pushed his sweats down to his upper thigh to free his cock.
It was so hard, standing at attention with a slight twitch. “Oooh fuck.” Satoru pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Fuck, I’m so hard.” He spit into his hand before wrapping his bare palm around his shaft.
His hand slowly began moving up and down, coating his length with spit. He squeezed himself harder with each stroke. He was imagining it as you or Suguru’s hand. Both are so warm but different. Suguru’s hand was larger, more calloused. Y/N’s hand was smaller, more delicate, and her manicured nails always looked o pretty around his cock. The faster he moved his hand, the more the television sounded like white noise as his mind swam around his two partners.
Satoru found himself mimicking the movements you and Suguru would do. He gripped himself tight, like Suguru, stroking fast and hard. When he reached his tip, his pointer finger would tease his slit that beaded thick droplets of pe-cum, as your smaller hand would do so gracefully. Imagining his two partners worshiping his cock, was better jerk-off material than any porn video.
“Mmm, ooh fuck me.” Satoru’s hand squeezed his thick length hard, his hand moving faster. “That’s it, Y/N, just like that, Sugu.” Looking at his cock through his lashes, he gritted his teeth. His tip was leaking pre-cum, his balls were tightening as he felt himself getting closer and closer to cumming. “I’m so fucking close, so close, don’t stop.”
Grabbing his shirt, he placed the hem of it between his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to get cum all over it. Having a new shirt on when you two got back would be hard to explain, seeing as he stayed home alone. It would be much better to paint his stomach. It would be easier to clean up that way.
“Nnngh, fuck.” Satoru’s muffled moans grew louder, his cock twitching harder under each stroke of his hand. “Fuck yes, fuck yes.” The familiar burning coil in his abdomen tightened, and he never heard the door unlock. “Fuck, gonna cum—“ And tightened as his partners called his names. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” And tightened before it snapped as Y/N and Suguru walked into the living room. “Cumming fuck! Fuck!”
Satoru jerked his wrist frantically. Ropes of hot cum coat his hand, stomach, and chest. His pace finally began to slow as his cock started to soften in his hand, his white seed shining under the sunlight flooding the room. Fuck, he didn’t realize how much he missed jerking off. Especially since he had the two hottest people starring in his dirty mind.
In the afterglow, Satoru lazily looked towards the end table in search of a tissue. To his horror, he found the two of you watching him. Your jaw dropped, cheeks flushed, as Suguru ran a hand over his mouth, dark eyes glued to the cum on his stomach. The three of you basked in the silence before Satoru quickly wiped at his cum.
“W-Welcome home!” He shouted, doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with either of you. “I didn’t hear you guys come in.”
Suguru chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah? Maybe that’s because we were too busy listening to you cumming.” All attempts to finish cleaning himself came to a halt at Suguru’s words.
”I well, I gu—“
”There’s no denying it, Toru.” You joined in; faux sadness etched onto your features. “We caught you red-handed.” Your pout was adorable as you looked up at Suguru. “This is why he didn’t want to come with us Sugu.”
“Mhmm,” Suguru gently stroked your Y/H/C, “and to think we felt so bad for not including him. We stood in line for forty minutes at the cafe to get him the chocolate cake they're famous for.” Gojo swallowed as you lifted a bag with the cafe's name to emphasize Suguru’s words.
Slowly getting up on noodle legs from his orgasm, Satoru started walking towards you both. “It wasn’t like that. I just got bored. It’s not like I plotted to stay here to jerk off without the two of you.” The annoyance on both of your faces made him cringe. “I appreciate you guys thinking of me!” His hands reached for the bag, only for you to yank it away. “Oh, come on!” Satoru Gojo pouted, his eyes darting between you and Suguru.
“Huh, funny you did cum, on yourself.” Suguru barked out a laugh at your words. “And you didn’t even let me lick it off. I think that’s what hurt the most.”
”Y/N has a point, Satoru. You cleaned it all off right in front of her.” Suguru took the bag from you and placed it on the breakfast bar. “You know how much she loves our cum. My poor Princess.” You sniffled as Suguru pulled you tight against his side. ”Satoru has been a very bad boy, hasn’t he Y/N?”
”He has.”
Gojo ran both his hands through his hair with a sigh. “I’m sorry, guys. Is there any way that I can make it up to you?” Instant regret settled over him like cold rain. Both you and Suguru’s eyes darkened as sinister smirks tugged at your mouths. “Oh, oh fuck, please wait, have mercy.” He held both hands up, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop you from pouncing on him like a spider monkey.
Hours later, the automatic timer on the living room light came on. Illuminating the lewd scene in front of Satoru. You were facing him. Your back firmly pressed against Suguru’s chest as you rocked back and forth on his cock. Suguru’s hair was falling out of its bun, dark strands sticking out here and there, clinging to his skin. His lips were against the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at your skin. His actions made you whimper softly as you rode him faster.
Satoru wanted to join in, to get onto the floor and drag his tongue up Sugurus length, all the way to your clit. He hated being in the recliner across from you, his hand jerking at his cock. Fuck, you guys didn’t even let him get completely naked. He still had his sweats on and spit-damp shirt clenched between his teeth. He understood this was a punishment for jerking off and getting caught. He had to watch you two, and he'd already cum three times. But this was getting to be just cruel at this point. He wanted to join in!
Instead, you watched him, smirking at the flush dusting his cheeks and neck. The tears that formed in his oh-so-pretty blue eyes, and the way he fisted his cock to another orgasm. Arching your back, you gasped, Suguru’s tip hitting your G-spot as he bit your shoulder. Your arm reached over your head, fingers fisting in his hair. The sight of you getting closer to the edge made Satoru want to join in even more. If he could just get his lips around your clit, he knew you would squirt all over his face.
”Guys, pwease!” The cloth muffled Satoru’s words in his mouth. “I wanna help!”
You chuckled in between soft moans. “Sugu~nngh oh shit,” You watched as Suguru reached a hand around your waist, palming your thigh. “He wants to help~!” You laughed breathlessly as Suguru hummed, his voice vibrating against your sensitive skin
”Satoru,” your white-haired boyfriend perked up, “you wanted to jerk off so bad when we were gone. So you’re going to keep jerking off until we say otherwise. Dirty man whores don’t get rewarded.” Suguru’s hand, which Satoru wished was around his cock, slowly slid up to your clit. “Good fuckin’ sluts, like our sweet Y/N here, they get what they ask for.” You whined, your hand tugging at his hair. “Mmm fuck, baby tell me what my good girl wants~ yeah, be a good example to Satoru?”
”I wanna cum Sugu.” You whimpered, turning your head to face him.
He grinned, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. “You wanna cum?” You nodded your head, kissing him harder. “Go ahead, sweet girl, cum for me, Y/N.” His fingers rubbed circles around your cock. “That’s it; I feel you clenching cum on. Let it out, princess.” His gaze darted down, watching as you squirted hard.
“No, no, no,” Satoru whined like a spoiled brat. “I wanted to taste her cum!”
You were trembling, still coming down from your orgasm. Once you could form words, you tilted your head to the side. “See why we were so disappointed in you?” Suguru slowed his pace, his still-hard cock gently sliding into you. “I wanted to clean you up, but you used a tissue. I think I’ll clean up my mess the same way slut.” Suguru groaned, his cock twitching at your dirty fucking words.
“No! Please don’t. I’ll clean it up!”
”Oh, will you?”
”Yes.”
”And how will you clean up Y/N‘s cum Satoru?” Suguru asked as you slowly began rocking back and forth on his cock.
The two of you watched as your partner stood, his cum coated chest and stomach heaving as he looked to the floor. There was a dark, needy look in his eyes, one a person would only see in a feral animal. You didn’t know what to expect. For him to grab tissues to clean it, like he had done to himself. Him dropping to his knees was something you nor Suguru had anticipated. With bated breath, you watched Satoru slowly slide onto his stomach, his eyes on yours as he stuck his tongue out.
“Holy fuckin’ shit.” Suguru’s cock throbbed harder inside of you as he watched Satoru lick and suck at your cum off the floor. Like some kind of desperate animal. Never once did he break eye contact. His tongue and lips kept moving, cleaning Y/N's essence off the floor in the most vulgar way. “T-That, fuck, Y/N wh—“
“Such a good boy.” You finished for Suguru. Your tight cunt twitched at the sight. “Cleaning up my cum like the horny dog you are.”
Satoru sat on his knees. If he had a tail, it would be wagging at your praises. “Yeah? I did good. Am I forgiven? Do I get to join in now? Please!” He watched Suguru’s face scrunch up as Y/N bounced faster and harder onto his cock.
”Hmm, Suguru, what do you think?” You asked, feeling another orgasm coming close as Suguru's hands gripped your hips, thrusting up into you.
”Let that dirty slut help. I wanna watch him lick your clit like he just did to the floor.”
Before you could change your mind, Satoru leaped into action. He was positioning himself between both of your legs. His tongue immediately went to work, sucking and lapping at your clit like a madman. The sudden added friction had you rocking faster, trying to feel more of his mouth on your sensitive sex. While Geto slammed up into you, chasing his release while driving you to your own.
Watching you both with lust-filled eyes, Satoru started jerking his cock once more. Fat and hard tugged as he took your clit in between his lips, suckling the bud as hard as he possibly could. That was all you needed to send you tumbling over the edge. You screamed so loud you were sure the neighbors would file a noise complaint against you again. Not that you cared as you felt Suguru’s chest heave as he buried his cock inside of you as he filled you to the brim with cum.
Thank fuck Suguru had been right against your g-spot. Because Satoru was bleed to have you squirt in his face. The sweet, tangy taste of you flooded his mouth. He sucked at your lips, tasting both your sweetness and Suguru’s slightly salty bitterness. Like a well-crafted treat just for him. The taste of you both combined had his hand stroking his dick, desperate to cum for the fourth time that day.
In the afterglow, Suguru grunted, kicking Satoru’s thigh with his foot. “Idiot, don’t forget what we just told you.” His best friend slowly smirked as you stuck your tongue out in between pants. “Don’t waste your cum.”
Not needing to be told twice, Satoru jumped to his feet, stroking his cock in front of your face. Only his hand was swatted away, replaced with Suguru’s. The sudden change of hand and pace had Satoru whimpering like the horny fucking dog he was.
“That’s it, Satoru,” Suguru purred, stroking faster, “cum on her face like a good boy.”
That sent your white-haired boyfriend right over the edge. Tears ran down his cheeks as he watched his load, which would most likely be his last for today, spurt over your tongue, chin, and the tip of your nose. You looked so pretty, cock drunk, glazed in his cum. It had him crying out in pained pleasure.
When the last waves of his orgasm faded, Satoru stumbled. Both you and Geto grabbed his arms, slowly easing him to rest on the couch next to the two of you. He gasped, his eyes shut, in post-orgasm bliss. You couldn’t help but smile, gently stroking his hair. Suguru kept himself inside of you, kissing your neck lovingly and putting the footrest up. You and your boyfriend relaxed in the silence until Satoru’s soft snores could be heard.
It's a perfect way for you to end a wonderful Sunday.
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hairmetal666 · 1 year
Text
What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.
They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.
They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.
Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.
Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.
He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.
He never stops thinking of Eddie.
Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.
Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.
The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).
Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.
He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.
"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.
"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.
"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.
He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.
Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.
"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.
Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.
There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.
Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.
"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.
"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."
Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.
"You're here," Steve agrees.
Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.
"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."
That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."
It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.
Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."
"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.
The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.
Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.
"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.
"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.
"What the fuck," Max says.
"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.
"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.
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moonknightsonata · 3 months
Text
Book Dilemna
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pairing: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader
summary: You’re moving in with the boys, and Marc greatly underestimated how many books you were bringing into their already full of books apartment.
cw: What’s a little bickering between lovers, Marc suggests something blasphemous about books several times. Mostly fluff.
wc: 1413
a/n: Is this a little anecdotal of when I moved in with my boyfriend and he thought I had too many books? Yes. I can only imagine how many books Steven and I could have if we combined our libraries and we would both be in heaven but Marc hates it.
Here’s something a little sweet while I work on something heartbreaking with Marc.
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Marc thought Steven had a lot of books. He had naively assumed Steven had the biggest personal collection of books that someone could have in one apartment, and that only libraries or bookstores would have more than him.
That thought left his brain immediately when he was lugging up the tenth box of books from the moving van into his - now shared with you - apartment.
He unceremoniously dropped the box on the table and rolled his shoulders as he gave you an unimpressed look. “Please tell me that was the last box of books.”
You looked at him from the kitchen where you were unpacking your favorite mugs into the cabinets. “Um… how many have you brought up?”
“I think that was ten.”
The grimace on your face let Marc know it was not, in fact, the last box of books. How many books could you even have? Marc wondered if you had even read them all, or if you hoarded them like a dragon. He groaned as he sat at the dining table, leaning his head back on the rest of the chair. “How many more?”
You gave a little shrug, apologizing. “Maybe a few more?”
Marc’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you suspiciously. “A few, like 3 more or a few like another 10?”
“… 5? I’m not sure honestly…. I didn’t keep track when I packed them up!” You defended yourself, putting the last mug away. You made your way towards the door, slipping shoes on. “I’ll go get the rest of them, you sit for a few minutes, you’ve been going up and down for the past hour and a half.” You really did feel bad, Marc was being such a trooper after all, lugging your stuff from the van.
Marc shook his head, already standing up and wrapping his arms around you to stop you from going downstairs to get the boxes. “No, no, I can do it. C’mon, I was Moon Knight - I’ve dealt with ancient Egyptian gods, you think I can’t handle boxes of books?” he teased.
“You’re the one complaining -“ You started, before Marc interrupted you with a kiss. As he pulled away with a grin on his face, you rolled your eyes. He started it.
“Where do you and Steven plan on putting all these books, huh? Steven’s books already have most of the real estate in here.” Marc gestured to the stacks of unorganized books that already claimed every available surface of the apartment sans the kitchen counters and dining table.
“We just have to organize them a bit, we’ll fit them!” Marc raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with an incredulous look on his face. Your confidence wavered a bit under his look and as you took in the inventory of just how many books were around you. But really, you were sure that with a bit of organizing you could fit them all.
“Maybe you’ll have to get rid of some -“ Marc started before he heard two interruptions.
Are you out of your mind? Steven.
“Are you out of your mind?” and you.
If it wasn’t so annoying how you had both screeched at the mere suggestion of losing a couple of books, Marc would’ve found it hilarious that the two of you had been so in sync. He raised his hands in mock surrender, he at least knew when he’d lose a battle. “Okay, okay, forget I said it. Geez, you and Steven hated that idea.”
You smiled triumphantly, both for getting your way of keeping all of your books, and the fact that at least one of your boyfriends understood. Two against one worked in favor, after all. “Good. At least one of you has some sense! Getting rid of books… unbelievable!”
She’s right, Marc. Getting rid of books, that’s just mental. Steven agreed with you, and Marc could see him shaking his head from the corner of his eye in the mirror hanging nearby.
“At what point do you two have too many books?”
There’s no such thing as too many books!
“There’s no such thing as too many books!”
“You two have to stop doing that.” Marc deadpanned, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Let’s just finish getting all of them into the apartment, before we decide what to do with them. I will honestly be shocked if you and Steven can fit all of them on these shelves.” Marc said, opening the front door to go back downstairs.
You trailed behind him, at least to help finish unloading the van so that he wasn’t the only one doing the heavy lifting. “We’ll fit them all, you’ll see!”
-
You definitely were not going to fit all these books.
You and Steven had waited for the next weekend to tackle organizing and shelving both his and your collections.
The day started with the two of you bickering over the proper way to organize the books.
“Definitely by title.”
“Title? But then you could end up mixing the subjects! We should do it by subject and genre.”
“That might work for all of your history books, Steven, but what about my novels? Some are romance, some are fantasy, and some are both! What if one of my romantic fantasies get misplaced into the ‘just fantasy’ section?”
Oh my god, you two are making this so much more complicated. Just put them on the shelves!
Steven’s gaze shot over to the mirror hanging on the wall so quickly, you thought he might have gotten whiplash. “We certainly will not “just put them on the shelves”, Marc! They have to be organized.
Do it by color then.
Steven knew if you had just heard the blasphemous words that Marc just suggested, you would lose your marbles. “Absolutely not.”
“What? What’d Marc suggest?” you asked curiously.
“Organizing them by color.” Steven snorted, even adding an overdramatic touch of shuddering his shoulders. “Can you imagine, love? By color?”
You paused and Steven’s bemused expression fell. “You can’t be serious.”
”I’ve seen pictures online where people have done it, it did look kind of pretty.” You shrugged, nonchalantly. You couldn’t say you would actually humor the idea of organizing books by color, but the absolute conniption it put Steven in almost made you reconsider.
”How would you even find anything?”
“I know what color my books are! Not my fault that most of your history books are all brown and yellow.”
Steven couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His own partner, suggesting organizing books by color. If he wasn’t so in love with you (and if he didn’t think it would be a case of the pot calling the kettle) he would’ve called you mad.
After about ten more minutes of bickering, discussing how to organize the books, you and Steven had agreed that first by genre, and then by title would be the simplest way. It would most likely be the quickest way to find books when they were needed.
It took another three hours just to organize the books into stacks, spread out around the apartment and labeled with sticky notes on what genre they were (which also lead to a few more interesting debates on whether you would sort ‘general mythology’ books with his Egyptology books, or should it Steven just have a ‘mythology’ genre - or should your romance books be separated by ‘young adult’ and ‘adult’).
But by dinner time, you and Steven had managed to get many of the books onto shelves around the apartment.
You were washing the dishes after dinner, when Marc approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. “I’m surprised you two got as far as you did.” Marc had honestly suspected he would come to front and find the apartment overrun with books.
You turned your head towards him, beaming with a prideful gleam that Marc could practically hear ‘I told you so’ coming. “You doubted us?”
”When I could hear you two arguing practically all day? Yes.” Marc chuckled, rolling his eyes.
You returned the eye roll and handed Marc a towel to start drying the dishes you were washing. He took it from you, diligently drying and putting the dishes away. “We weren’t arguing, we were discussing.”
”Mhm. If you say so.” Marc says, a teasing grin on his face.
“Although… I hate to say you were right about one thing.”
Marc’s face lit up and he grinned like a cheshire cat.
“Oh? Do tell.”
”We’re going to have to buy more bookshelves.”
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flseur · 3 months
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꒰ 𐙚 memories — satoru gojo ꒱
⟡ synopsis : after a life-changing accident, yours and satoru's lives will never be the same. he's slowly beginning to forget you and soon, it will be as if your relationship never exisited.
⟡ content warning : gn!reader, angst, hurt no comfort
౨ৎ note : i've had idea in my google docs for over two years and it was originally for a genshin chara but i wanted to change it to satoru!
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when you had first heard what had happened, you hardly could believe it. some kind of weird illness that he’s suffering from after the accident. you had made it out with barely a scratch while god just continues to deal the worst hand to satoru.
survivors' guilt? no, because he’s still alive and he’s still himself, but he’s not himself.
you know that soon, instead of having love and adoration swell in his cerulean eyes, there will be nothing. not a thought about who you are, not a single memory about you.
the doctor described it as his brain resetting. he’s going to eventually lose all of his memories, including the ones before you.
everyone that knows of his condition isn’t taking it well, they’re all trying to spend as much time with him before he fades, but what about you?
you’ve never left his side since, you’ve accompanied him to every doctor's appointment, listened to all the specialists say the inevitable is going to happen and it just feels like they’re rubbing salt into an open wound.
the two of you have talked about it, terrified for the near future. years of memories that the two of you took the time to piece together like a puzzle will become one-sided. each hello, goodbye, kiss shared, spending friday nights together in your shared apartment, the hours spent together with your limbs intertwined, will all be erased.
as the months progressed, the more of satoru’s memories regressed. you both decided it would be best if he moved back in with his family, leaving you alone in a once warmth filled home to be an empty, cold shell.
initially, satoru would be the one to suggest that the two of you should visit places where the two of you have been together.
the park where you had your first date, the bookstore where you had your first kiss with each other, hiding behind the dozens of bookshelves with you giggling and satoru whispering teasing words into the shell of your ear.
eventually, the daily calls would stop. you would reach out by calling or texting and asking him if he’d want to eat dinner at the restaurant that the two of you ate at for your second anniversary and the reply would always be the same,
“sorry y/n, i’m just not up for it right now.”
the next time you called after that, there was no answer. the second time, still no answer. the third time, someone picked up.
“hey, i’m sorry but i think that you’ve been calling the wrong number.” a voice that was on the other side of the line. except there was no love in his words, no familiarity of warmth laced through his words. they were cold. empty. this was not your satoru.
“what? no? satoru, i don’t have the wrong number..”
“how do you know my name?”
“how do I know your name? satoru, we’re enga—-”
“ah, listen. i don’t know what kind of sick prank you think this is but please stop calling me. seriously, this is really uncomfortable. goodbye.”
oh.
so it happened.
he forgot.
satoru doesn’t remember you anymore. you knew it was going to happen, but you still had some sick, twisted maybe even selfish hope, that if he was going to forget everything, he’d at least be able to remember you.
unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way.
“life is unfair.” is what you thought after that moment. for months after that moment. it flooded every inch of your mind, coupled with the now one-sided memories you had with satoru.
but, you’re starting to heal, you’re starting to come to terms with it after nearly 12 months.
today, your therapist said that the next step for you should be visiting the places that you’ve been avoiding. every place that you had a memory with satoru with. so you decided that you’d visit the park.
you turn the corner to enter it and come face to face with geto.
“oh? geto? how have you been?” you ask.
geto looks around nervously, like he’s trying to search for something.
“i’ve been good, y/n. i was actually just thinking about you. let’s, uh, let’s go get a cup of coffee, it’s on me. we can catch up more there and talk about sa—-”
“suguru?”
you know that voice. the voice that had once told you that he loved you over a thousand times. the voice that would whisper you sweet nothings, the voice that caused heat to run all over your body. you freeze on the spot, already feeling your eyes sting with tears.
“whose this?” gojo asks, looking towards you. his face holds no recollection of who you are whatsoever.
“shit.” geto swears under his breath. “this is, um, this is my friend, y/n.”
“hello, it’s nice to meet you. i’m gojo, suguru’s close friend.”
you purse your lips, continuing to try and hold back tears.
“oh, i almost forgot,” satoru says.
and you look up into his eyes, with the smallest glimmer of hope that he’ll remember you. who you are, what you mean to him, the love you held for each other. god, please remember me, please.
“this is my fiancée, yume.”
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flseur © all rights reserved, do not repost, take inspo from my layouts or themes, translate, or claim as your own.
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raitonsfw · 3 months
Text
𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 '𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 | 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒 𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚞
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synopsis: Dazai has gifted you many things in the years that you’ve known him. Jewelry, books, clothes, lingerie… Anything that he thought suited you. When you wear one of his gifts to the agency without thinking, it was just supposed to be another day at work. But little did you know that the reason why Dazai bought you the black dress was that it was for his eyes and his eyes only. And not to mention the matching set that you wore underneath it practically sparkled in the luminosity of the office.
warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, smut, exhibitionism, embarrassment, lingerie, fingering, dirty talk, teasing, slight degradation, dazai's a little mean, petnames (sweetheart, baby, darling, dear), use of honorifics.
a/n: dazai basically fingers the reader on the train ride home cuz he just couldn't wait. my friend gave me this idea and it was so fun to write. nice to write fem!readers again after writing character ships for so long. defs needed a breather. wc: 2.2k. m.list
divider credit: @benkeibear
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The train wasn’t too busy, though to you it seemed like everyone and their mother took this exact train in order to spite you. You don’t know why Dazai had insisted on taking the train from the agency today, the hurriedness of it confusing you even more. Normally the both of you would walk the streets of downtown Yokohama in order to get home, stopping to sightsee and shop a bit along the way. Sometimes he’d buy you dinner on the edge of the river, other days he’d bring you to your favorite bookstore.
But today he was absolutely restless to get home, with quicker footing than usual and a hush to his voice. You were filled with concern because of this. He was never quiet, the boy was like a walking radio to you as he’d chatter (or sing) away the afternoon about anything and everything. When you both reached the station and past the people that crowded it, his lips were bitten red and he kept a hand pressed against your lower back, ushering you into the train carefully.
Fortunately for you, you both had ended up on the last train where barely anyone sat. Most of the people you had pushed through earlier sat up near the front of the train car and onwards, filling the spaces with awkward silence. Dazai snagged a seat to your left, next to the divider of the sliding doors. He leaned into it as the train made its way down the tracks, crossing his leg over his other with his hands folded neatly in his lap.
“Dazai-san, are you okay?” You asked, your voice a bit dry as you hadn’t spoken much since you left the agency. Putting a hand on his thigh to soothe his bouncing leg, he turned to you with a slight flinch but quickly registered your hand’s warmth and gave you a small grin.
“Never been better,” Dazai said, the fakeness of the smile evident. “Why do you ask?”
“You’ve seemed quieter than usual.”
“I just can’t wait to get home.” He sighed out gently, whimsicality etching his tone.
One of his hands had come to rest on yours and he rubbed it lovingly. He seemed calmer than before, but something was still bothering him. You decided to backtrack the day in your head; you two didn’t do much today at the agency.
You had looked over some of the papers Kunikida had assigned to you, ran a small errand with Atsushi, and watched Dazai successfully manage to steal a sweet from Ranpo without him knowing. Nothing else out of the ordinary stuck out to you and you frowned a little, still unsure as to why Dazai was being so weird.
“You can tell me if something’s bothering you.” You frowned at him and it looked like he almost caved, his mouth falling open to speak. But you second guessed yourself as he shut it quickly, his eyes falling past your lips.
Something was bothering him, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that the dress you put on exposed your lingerie in the most discreet of places. The agency’s lights did you no justice, making the crimson colored set pop out underneath the dusky sheerness of your dress. Perhaps if he had been walking behind you in the evening glow of the sun, he would’ve had to fuck you behind a bush on the way home.
No one else noticed it, too preoccupied in their work to even give you a glance other than to say hi and if they did...well Dazai would’ve known. He watched you like a hawk all day, making sure no one mentioned it to you, partially in fear of embarrassment but mostly because he didn’t want you to change.
But yeah, something was bothering him and that was his dick.
The entire day he was hard, was aching for you to look at him and realize what you did to him. He curled up in the corner of the couch with his knees almost pressed to his chest, hiding the bulge as much as he could for most of the day. But you were too busy to pay attention to him being the hell of a worker you are; of course you couldn’t possibly have noticed his predicament– the predicament you caused.
Not even when he pulled his overcoat over his lap when you talked to him about past missions, you didn’t bat an eye. Not when his sentences faltered a few times during a meeting with Fukuzawa, did you even think to ponder why. And definitely not when he dashed off to the restroom more than a few times (only to come back with a bit of an attitude), did you realize that you were the cause of his pressing situation.
He couldn’t quite catch a break today, could he? You walked into the office, knowing damn well he gifted you that dress with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. He even wrapped the bow on the gift box neatly, paired it with little explicit intent that it was for him. And not to mention that matching set you were wearing, also courtesy of his lust for you. The red lace peeked out just enough from the cut of the dress and he had to hold back the gasp that left his mouth when he recognized what lingerie set it was. You were decked out in his finest picks, innocently running around the office with papers falling from your arms whilst sucking up to Kunikida’s hellish requests.
“Y/N-san, you wore the dress I bought for you.” He pointed out, a bit uncertain of how to explain to you that it was sheer. “It’s beautiful on you.”
Your face lit up at the compliment. “I am! To be honest, I had nothing else to wear and I decided this would be a nice change. Instead of my regular pantsuits.”
“Would I be an asshole if I tell you it’s see through?” Dazai decided to come straight out, chuckling lightly. He watched your face fall and he immediately regretted telling you. Maybe he should’ve waited until you guys got home.
“No way, it’s not!”
“And that red number you’ve been wearing is...” He continued in a seductive whisper, leaning closer into you. “Why do you think I bought it, sweetheart?”
“I wore it in front of the entire agency, Dazai-san!” You hissed out, the embarrassment reddening against your neck and you attempted to hide it beneath the collar of the dress. No wonder he gawked at you the entire day, no wonder he stumbled through his sentences, no wonder he rushed you to the train station, no wonder he-
“Oh, please. Someone would’ve told you if it was extremely noticeable.” He could turn this around. He was an expert at that, his fingers tracing up your delicate sleeve. Dazai brought your hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss on the back of it, his eyes louring as he looked at you from his peripherals. “On the other hand…I wish I told you sooner.”
“I’ve been holding back all day as you dumbly walked around the office like you damn near owned it." His right hand slipped underneath your dress, latching onto your thigh. “Thought of so many positions I could fuck you in…if only the supply closet was enough for you but you hate dark places. Maybe the president would’ve let us leave early, then I could’ve bent you over the-”
“Not so loud.” You shushed him, trying hard not to relinquish yourself to the warmth against your thigh. It was too late though, your arousal had you wrapped around his pretty little finger, yearning for more.
Dazai dropped your hand on his lap, pulling it over the bulge of his trousers. You palmed lightly at it without much thought, feeling the curve of his erection within its confines. “Look what you did to me, baby…Had me almost humping my hand with how good you looked. Not like you cared though since you were so busy with Atsushi-kun today.”
He huffed out a small whine as you pulled your hand away quickly, peeking around the corner to see if anyone saw his action. Everyone was still peering towards the front of the train car, idly scrolling through their phones or listening to music that was much too loud in the ear. The divider covered almost all of Dazai’s lap, a basic blind spot, but you were still nervous.
The feeling of his fingers grasping against your inner thigh shot you from your thoughts as they mingled upwards to the heat of your cunt. You were already dizzy with excitement but this couldn’t happen. Not in such a public place, the strangers amongst you would definitely hear your soft whimpers. Though the thought of that made you see stars, the adrenaline rushed in your blood and directly down to the pit of your abdomen. The heat pooled there, lingered as his lithe fingers pulled at the thin lace covering your clit.
“There’s people at the front of the train, we can’t just-” You whispered, trying to move away from his hand but he had already felt the wetness that collected against the naughty material. His fingers pushed through you delicately and you shuddered at the feeling, a quiet gasp leaving your mouth.
“I don’t think I can wait anymore, darling.” He pleaded quietly in your ear, nipping at the soft shell of it. He left a kiss behind your ear and gave you a small hush as a whine got stuck in the back of your throat. “If it makes you feel better, I can lay my coat over you.”
You nodded quickly and mere seconds later, his discarded coat was thrown over top of you to shield the neighboring passengers. His hand found its way back between your legs, in the exact position he had it before and you brought the sleeve of his coat up to your mouth to muffle your moans.
“D-Dazai-san…” You breathed out as his ring finger circled your clit whilst his pointer and middle plunged into you with no remorse. He kept a shallow pace, thrusting in and out slowly to avoid extra noise (though he wouldn't have minded hearing the way your slick sounded as you became wetter with each press of his fingers). His other hand held his phone out in front of you on your lap, scrolling mindlessly through social notifications– to distract the people around you. In case you got caught. Sneaky bastard.
“Look at what Kunikida-kun posted today on our website! He’s so savvy, isn’t he?” He beamed at you and you couldn’t even respond back, pleasure swirling around in your head as Dazai continued fucking his fingers into you. Changing his pace to unabating pressure that nestled against your clit, you squirmed in your seat. Your legs threatened to close against his arm but you forced them to stay open, near silent whimpers pouring from your mouth.
Dazai wanted to hear them, those pretty moans that he forced from you, but he picked pretty bad timing to teeter you off the edge of pure ecstasy. He loved the way you clenched tightly around his fingers as he found your sweet spot– your face contorted with a slight furrow to your eyebrows and you panted into his coat sleeve like it was your source of oxygen.
“Looks like there’s rain tonight, guess we can’t go on that walk anymore.” He pouted innocently and you felt your nerves screaming at you– faster, closer, so close you squeezed your eyes shut harshly at the growing pleasure. A moment later, you were falling apart against his fingers, desperate to keep quiet as your whole body shuddered in his palm. Your whole body tensed up as you let out a rather loud moan, much louder than you thought, though it was talked over by Dazai’s glorious distraction. He didn’t stop moving as you fluttered around his fingers and you gripped onto his bandaged wrist with a weak hand.
He slipped them out of you as you calmed down, a quiet sigh resonating through the fabric of the coat. You felt him wipe them off against the inner material of it and he stood up, stretching his arms up. Throwing on his coat smugly, he looked at you and offered his hand out. “Our stop’s coming up, dear.”
You knew you’d look like a deer in headlights if you stood up, still flushed from moments before. You took his hand though, wobbling as you gained your footing while the train decreased in speed. As you smoothed your dress down you remembered the reasoning why this all happened and you cleared your throat, a sheepish smile coming to light in the corners of your mouth.
“Let’s get you home quickly before the rain comes.” Dazai said as the train halted to a stop, the doors sliding open. He moved you in front of him, his palm flush to the small of your back again. As you stepped off the train, he leaned down to the shell of your ear to murmur something.
“Keep the dress on for me when I fuck you properly.” Just a reminder what’s his and his only.
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amberlynnmurdock · 3 months
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Neighbor Pt. 5
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Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: Matt comes home from a rough night as Daredevil. He usually listens to her to help himself fall asleep, but tonight, she's awake as well. Matt feels guilty to listen to her as he's never heard her this intimate before.
Words: 1.3k
Genres/Warning: SMUT, 18+, masturbation, mutual masturbation
A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, happy holidays, I hope you're having a lovely Monday! Here's a random update/present (it's a smutty chapter teehee) enjoy!!!
Part 4
Matt sat on the edge of his roof, breathing heavily and aching from tonight’s activities. It was easy for him to stop bad men from doing bad things, but the bleeding never stopped. He was always bleeding, even when he wasn’t. 
He stayed out later than usual. What for? He was stressed, to put it simply. Work was stressful, the gangs of this city were stressful, and his personal life (or lack thereof) was stressful. At least, going out as Daredevil gave him some sort of control over the chaos. It made him feel alive like he really did have a purpose in this life. 
Directly below him was her apartment. Truthfully, thinking about her made him stressed out too. Because all he wanted was her, and yet there he was, creating distance. He’s convinced himself countless times that he can’t be Daredevil and have someone like her in his life. He had to keep people at arm’s length and never closer than that. Even though he so desperately wanted someone close to him. 
She was sleeping. It was 2 AM. Of course, she was sleeping. Sleeping soundly, peacefully, under her velvet blanket. Listening to her almost lulled Matt to sleep on the roof. He took this as a sign that it was time for him to go to bed, too. 
After a long hot shower, Matt was finally lying in bed, silk sheets laid over his legs. He was always either too hot or too cold in his apartment, which is why he had the blankets covering half of his body. He slept without a shirt on to let his wounds breathe—a shirt was too constricting. He wore dress shirts and ties every day at work. He sighed as he closed his eyes. At least, the apartment was completely quiet at 2 AM. Even though it was quiet, that didn’t stop him from listening to her. 
She was sleeping soundly still. Her heartbeat was steady. Her breathing was soft and slow. Little did she know how much peace she brought him at night. Little did she know how much his thoughts were consumed by her. He hoped she had a good day at the bookstore. He hoped she had the early shift tomorrow so she could avoid the dark—regardless, he’d be there in the shadows, making sure she got home safely. 
She stirred in her sleep. Matt cocked his head and opened his eyes, focusing on her. Was she having a nightmare? He wasn’t unfamiliar with those, unfortunately. Maybe she was getting up to get a drink of water. He heard her shift under her covers, kicking them off in a sleepy state. The way her heart was beating now told him she was half awake, in a daze. 
“Mm,” she hummed as she woke up, moving her legs around. Matt furrowed his brows—was she having a night—
Oh. 
Oh. 
If he didn’t feel like a creep before, he sure as hell did now. He never listened to her when she was in the shower, getting changed, or doing other personal things. Once he heard an indication of any of that, he tuned her out to respect her privacy. But this? He’s never accidentally listened to her doing this. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. Matt’s senses were locked on her. He couldn’t help but listen more. 
She spread her legs in her bed and clamped them together again, pushing her thighs together in a sleepy state. Her heart rate was growing steadily into a heavier beat. She squirmed in bed and made a sound that made Matt’s own heart jump in his chest. 
“Mmm,” she moaned. Wetness filled the air, filled Matt’s senses. The wetness between her legs was a sweet aroma on Matt’s nose. His heart started to beat fast. He listened as she kicked her blankets off her and pushed her head into her pillow, squeezing her thighs, surely to feel a delicious pressure he only dreamed of being on the giving end one day. 
He listened as she slid her cotton panties down to her ankles and spread her legs, an intoxicating scent of her wetness filling Matt’s nose. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt his cock harden underneath his silk blankets. His hand twitched at his side as he fought the urge to palm himself. 
“Fuck,” she whispered, bringing Matt’s attention back to her. Her hand was under her thin silk tank top now, kneading her right breast and pinching her nipple with her thumb and pointer finger. She pressed herself into her bed more, squirming in pleasure. Matt finally couldn’t resist his own urges anymore—he took his cock in his right hand and began to slow stroke it. His cock was so hard now listening to her sounds of pleasure. He gripped it harder and stroked a bit faster. 
“God,” she whispered again as her hand trailed down her stomach to where her wetness pooled. With one brush of her fingers gently on her clit, she let out a louder moan which sounded like an angel singing to Matt. Fuck, it was so sexy, and Matt really shouldn’t have been listening to her, but God was she alluring with the way she cursed from rubbing her pussy and making herself feel so good. She began to rub her clit more urgently. Matt began to stroke himself faster as he listened to her masturbate. 
She slipped a finger inside herself for a moment, rubbing around her soft, gushy insides before rubbing her clit again and pressing the side of her face in her pillow from pleasure. She felt euphoric, on a wave of pleasure, and so needy, she tensed her legs and continued to rub herself more. 
“Unn, mm,” she moaned. Matt’s mouth hung half open as he continued to jerk himself off to her orgasmic sounds, his cock so close to bursting with his own pleasure. He imagined being between her legs, face in front of her glorious wetness, lapping at her juices. He imagined it was him making her make those fervent, needy sounds. He imagined slowly pushing his cock into her pussy and listening to her adjust to his size, moaning from relief, pleasure, and release. He wanted to be in her bed so badly at that moment. His hand couldn’t compare to her soft hand, which he’s only held in more wholesome moments. This was such a sin, what he was doing. He didn’t care. She sounded fucking euphoric. He imagined heaven sounded a lot like what noises she was making as she continued to bring herself to an orgasm. Matt continued to stroke himself, this time with more pressure and faster as he knew she was about to reach her own euphoric finish. She squeezed her thighs as she continued to rub her clit, pushing herself deeper in her bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was breathless as she finally let herself come undone.
“Matt…” she whispered against her lips like a prayer. Matt was stunned to hear her say his name as she orgasmed, so much so he came at the same time, his hot cum spilling out of the tip of his cock onto his stomach. He was breathless too as he uttered her name. 
“Fuck,” he whispered as he squeezed the last drop of cum on his stomach, shuddering from his orgasm. She was thinking of me? Suddenly, he felt less guilty for listening and masturbating to her… it seemed they were both sinners for each other. 
Matt cleaned himself off in the bathroom, and he listened as she did the same. She washed her hands and crawled back into her bed, not putting her panties back on. Her heart finally had calmed down to a steady beat and she fell asleep almost instantly. 
Matt finally let himself fall asleep too. 
TAGS: @mattmurdocksstarlight @yentroucnagol @danzer8705 @allllium @i-marvel-bitch @mattsgirlsworld @babygrlmurdock @writtenbyred @uncle-eggy
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