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holybibly · 3 months

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𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 | 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut, Priests!AU

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 9,9k

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: It is said: "The best way to get forgiveness for sins is to repent." Priest Wooyoung will tell you how to do this.

𝔚𝔄ℜ𝔑ℑ𝔑𝔊: Priest!Wooyoung, Hierophilia, church sex, religion kink, dirty talk, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play. spanking, fingering, orgasm delay, overstimulation, dom/sub and more.

𝔄/𝔑: And so it is that I have come to please you with something wicked. I don't know why I get so inspired, but I don't care. My opinion is that Priest Wooyoung is hot as hell, that's all. There will probably be another work released this weekend, but I won't tell you what it is. Of course, the unholy hours are available as usual. It's time to repent for the sins, bunnies, and, as the saying goes, Hell's empty, all demons outside.

You have never thought of yourself as a religious person, not under any circumstances whatsoever. You never knelt down in front of your bed, covered your eyes with trembling eyelids, and whispered softly, "Hail Mary," before you went to sleep in your cold and lonely bed.

Never asking God's mercy and forgiveness, you were as far from faith and piety as you could be. The last time you had been to church was years ago, when you came to communion with one of your distant relatives. The feeling was all too familiar, yet as alien as the shattered fragments of a mysterious dream you remembered having long ago. You walked slowly up the rain-slicked stone steps of your hometown's old church, as smooth and dreary as the weather today. The thin branches of the dead trees, devoid of the usual green foliage you knew wrapped around them at the beginning of each spring, reached up to the sky as if in prayer—brittle and outstretched—like the hands of a sinner.

"What am I doing here?" You asked yourself as you wrapped yourself more tightly in your soft cashmere coat and let out a convulsive sigh.

You didn't know how to answer that, and you couldn't seem to find the right one. That place... it seemed to call your name, and you couldn't resist the mysterious magnetism. The church was old and gloomy—the kind of church that people do not tell you the most pleasant stories about. Your eyes wandered over the faded, dark boards and the pointed spire, topped by a crooked, spiky cross that looked almost sinister as the rain swirled around it. The place had an air of desolation about it, and for a moment, you wondered if it was haunted.

It was the same church that your mother had gone to when she was a child, always dressed in her most beautiful clothes and with ribbons of silk woven into her hair.

"Did this place always look as spooky as it does now?" you asked her once.

The cold wind whipped through your long hair as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the church and made your way in. The rusty metal hinges sobbed pitifully at the sound of your action. The inside of the church was musty and smelled of incense, and visually, it was the same as millions of other churches: furnished with rows of wooden pews, with dusty Bibles lying in compartments attached to the backs of the pews. Narrow Gothic windows, decorated with the faces of sexless angels, stretched up to a vaulted ceiling.

There was no one there, which was what you would have expected, considering that there were only a few cars in the car park when you arrived here. You felt stupid for being here, completely unaware of what the purpose of your visit was in the first place.

The echo of your footsteps on the dark, faded midnight-blue velour floor was the only sound in the church. As you walked towards the back of the church, where the neatly decorated altar stood, your fingertips glided weightlessly along the cool edges of the old pews. Dark and full of suffering, the heavy crucifix hung over the altar like an unbearable sacred burden. There was a small confessional not too far from it.

One day, when you were a little girl, your grandparents took you to the church and insisted that you have a confession of your sins. Sitting behind the curtain, you felt so grown up; the small room seemed so much larger in comparison to your petite body. With your head bowed, you solemnly told the priest that you sometimes took a few extra biscuits when your mother wasn't looking, and he, in turn, instructed you to recite the Hail Mary a few times.

As you approached the confessional, you lazily tugged at the heavy velvet curtain, running your fingers over the faded fabric, which was worn in places. You wondered what sins you could repent of now; you didn't often reflect on what you'd done or seek forgiveness, at least not from an all-powerful divine being you weren't even sure existed. You opened the curtain and jumped at the sharp sound of metal rings as they scratched against the beam on which it was hung. The inside of the cabin was dark, and there was a smell of dust in it. You coughed and breathed in the small particles that stuck to your tongue in an unpleasant way.

"Hello, my dear."

You jumped at the slight echo of the soft, melodic voice that came from behind the metal bars of the confessional. Leaning against the door, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling your fast heart pound. Squinting, you hoped to get a better look at the dark figure of the priest on the other side.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." You said it quietly. "I... I was just lookin' around."

"You're new, right?" The voice was beautiful; with every vowel the person formed, you could hear some kind of melody, low and languid, almost seductive, and you suddenly realised that your hands were covered with goose bumps. Was the temperature in the little cabin any cooler than it was in the rest of the church? You couldn't be sure, but you found yourself unconsciously pulling the tails of your coat closer to your body.

Intrigued by the man on the other side of the small grate, you took a step further into the small room and looked around.

"Something like that."

"You don't come to places like this very often?" The voice made more of a statement than a question.

"No." You agreed with it. "I can't remember when I've been to church lately." You whispered in reply, so quietly that you could hardly be heard.

Silence fell between you, and, not quite understanding what you'd done, you reached out and pulled the curtain, shrouding yourself in darkness. Through the metal bars, you saw a slender man's figure and carefully sat down on the velvet bench.

"So why did you come here today, then?" The priest asked, although there was something in his tone of voice that told you that he already knew the answer, perhaps even better than you did. Was all this small talk a normal part of confession?

"I... I'm not really sure, just an instinct." You crumpled the soft fabric of your cloak between your fingers, growing more nervous with every second of the small talk between you and the mysterious priest.

"I understand, of course." He replied with a note of familiarity, as if he heard the same thing every day of his life.

Feeling even more insecure than before, you raised an eyebrow and shifted into the uncomfortable seat beneath you. There was something special about this priest, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"Is something bothering you, dear?"

You bit your lower lip as you tried to process what he said. Was something gnawing at you? Was there something that was bothering you to such an extent that you were beginning to feel pangs of conscience? Deep down inside of you, in the depths of your mind, where you didn't dare to go?

"Maybe?" You finally managed to say it, but it sounded more like a question. Your whole body was on edge, and you couldn't understand why it was so. You weren't afraid, no, but there was definitely a sense of something out of the ordinary. Something that was forbidden.

"You've been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven't you?" The man asked you a question, and all of a sudden you found yourself with your eyes half closed in bliss as you enjoyed the silky texture of his voice. It sounded like an angel was singing, but with a dark undertone. "You have been asking yourself questions, perhaps even too alarming ones."

You nodded weakly in acknowledgement of his words; despite the barrier between you, he seemed to be aware of your silent response.

"You're afraid you're bad." He said simply, and you could almost swear that he was laughing at the last two words, there was a hint of mockery in the tone of his voice.

Hearing him say that made your mouth dry up and you coughed slightly, trying to clear your throat.

"Holy Father, what makes you say things like that?"

"Are not all of us afraid of something like this at some point in our lives? We are afraid of ourselves, afraid of our sinfulness."

There was a blink of confusion on your face, a complete bewilderment at the strange turn this conversation had taken. And yet, somehow, you felt compelled to go on and hear more.

His voice dropped to a hoarse, velvety whisper that sent waves of heat down the length of your spine and caused you to squirm in your seat. Was this how you were supposed to feel at this moment?

"Let me tell you a little secret, dearie."

"I-am I listening?" Your heartbeat quickened as a single streak of pale light fell on the man behind the small bars, and for a moment you saw a dark, fox-like eye.

"We are all bad men. Every single one of us."

A shiver ran down your entire body, and you could feel the stuffy air in the confessional getting hotter and hotter.

"Even you, dearest child." He moved closer to the mesh holes in the barrier that separated the two of you, and you could make out the shape of his lips, diabolically curved and full. "Especially you."

"F-Father…"

"Wooyoung." He fixed you. "My name is Wooyoung. "

You repeated his name softly, sliding your tongue over each letter; your voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the man inhale sharply as his name came out of your lips. His name was sinful and sweet, almost wicked, like a serpent that tempts you to do the most evil of deeds. This man cannot be a priest at all. But if he was not a priest, who was he then?"

"You are," he began, and you could almost feel the smirk on his beautiful lips as he spoke. "Very naughty girl.

Oh, my God. This wasn't really happening. Was it? No, he couldn't have meant it. He was a priest, for God's sake.

"And what is your suggestion that I should do about it?" You asked shyly, looking down at the palms of your hands, which were now covered in shallow marks from where your nails had dug themselves into the damp skin. You couldn't see Wooyoung, but you were sure that the look in his eyes would be nothing less than piercing and malicious. "Should I say the Hail Mary several times? Pray for atonement for what I have done? You haven't even told me why it is you think I'm a sinner."

He let out a dark, dry chuckle, and you heard a muffled sound as you guessed that the palms of his hands were making hard contact with his thighs.

"Shall I show you?"

"Show me what?" Your eyes narrowed and a strange sense of anticipation began to well up inside you.

"How do I have the knowledge that you are a sinner?"

You chewed on your lower lip in thought, and then you cleared your throat with a kind of self-assured finality.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"What if I have no desire for repentance?" You said it in a defiant tone. You wanted to be brave; you wanted to be strong and confident, but something deep down inside of you told you that Wooyoung was not the kind of person that you couldn't help but obey. His whole aura told you that if he wanted to, he would fold you up like an origami piece. But there was nothing you could do about it; you had to test the waters to see what would happen if you refused to bend to his will.

He looked at you so intently that you felt he wanted to eat you alive right then and there.

"But I have a feeling that's not the case, is it?" He said this as he ran the tips of his fingers along your jaw. You tensed as he touched you, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine as Wooyoung lazily ran his thumb over your lower lip. "I think you want to get on your knees before me, child. You wish to repent."

Your eyes widened at the sound of his words, and a smirk of arrogance spread across his perfect scarlet lips. Why haven't you fought back?

He leaned forward so that his gorgeous face was only inches away from yours. You squeezed your thighs together as warm wetness began to pool between them, realising he was even more beautiful up close, like sin itself.

"I could smell the sweetness of your cunt from the moment you walked into the church, you little slut." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, and you shivered at the feel of his hot breath on the skin of your body.

The vulgarity of his words made you gasp, but you couldn't deny how your mouth watered at the sound of his velvety voice saying the words 'cunt' and'slut'. God, he was doing something to you, but you were... You were attracted to it.

"I smelled that smell when you walked into the confessional, when you heard my voice, when you said my name." His eyes sparkled in a devilish way, trapping you in his gaze, and if you hadn't been so excited, you would have noticed the black shadows dancing along the edges of his irises.

He was speaking to you in an almost patronising manner now, and you froze in place as he pulled your lower lip down and gently ran his thumb along the inside of it until the pad of his finger was slick with your saliva.

"Wooyoung..." You exhaled, looking down at your hands, fidgeting aimlessly in your lap. Your cheeks were hot and flushed, and by the way Wooyoung looked at you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness was only turning him on even more.

"There's never been a girl in my life that has been so desperate for a fuck as you have. Your desires ... they are almost tangible." He was so close to you now that his hot lips touched the round of your cheek, sending a wave of electricity through your body as he spoke. "I have met many sinners in my life, as you can imagine."

"Are you going to punish me for that?" He raised an eyebrow before straightening up and looking down at you, seemingly completely satisfied with your answer. A majestic expression of all-encompassing power was frozen on his face as he spoke.

"No, darling, of course not. I wouldn't want to punish you, but I am going to make you repent. And the first sin you will have to do penance for will be lust." Wooyoung said, and you found yourself biting your lower lip at the commanding tone of his voice. "Stand up." He gave you the order.

You did as he asked you to, got up from your seat, and stood in front of the so-called priest. He moved around you in a circle, as if considering what to do with you, never allowing you to escape his dark gaze. His tongue stretched out to lick his plump lips in a sensual way; finally, he sat down on the spot where you had been a few seconds before and ran his hands over his muscular, thick thighs.

You were standing in front of him, completely at his mercy, your head bowed in respect as he looked at you like a predator from his seated position, your skin burning under the weight of his gaze. You could almost feel his eyes as they crawled over your body, peeling away layer after layer until they reached the very core of your soul.

"Get undressed." There was a metallic edge to Wooyoung's voice as he crossed his legs and leaned back, his long hair falling over his handsome face, making him even more vicious. "Now."

You opened your mouth to speak, words of protest hovering on the tip of your tongue, but you closed it immediately, realising that it was better not to protest. The feeling of submission came again, sharp and clear, and you quickly pulled off your cloak and threw it to the ground behind you. The soft fabric pooled on top of the midnight blue velour. Then your jumper and your jeans joined it, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and pulled them down to your hips.

As you shyly wrapped your arms around yourself, you suddenly realised that your nipples were hard and swollen and could be seen peeking out from under the thin white lace of your bra.

Wooyoung leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his sharp chin resting on his palms, before he glared at you.

"You have to undress completely, darling."

You nodded obediently, reached behind your back to unhook your bra, and with timid reluctance, pulled the lace straps off your shoulders. You lowered your eyes in shame and looked down at the floor, while Wooyoung kept his gaze fixed on you.

"In atoning for our sins." He began to speak softly, reaching out to your face and gently guiding your chin so that you looked up at him. "We do not have the luxury of being modest." Wooyoung patted your cheek in a condescending manner before he hooked his fingertips into the waistband of your panties, which were nothing more than a thin piece of white lace. He let out a sweet moan as he slowly pulled them off of you, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin and the wet folds of your pussy.

You blushed as you watched him rub the lace between his fingers, and a thoughtful look came over his handsome face as he said.

"They're wet, darling." He finally said it in a sarcastic tone, his lips curling into a disgusted grin. "You really are a whore, aren't you? You walk around in wet panties and have depraved thoughts, and no less so than about a person who wears holy garments." Despite the roughness and harshness of his words, you could still see the mischievous gleam in his eyes. He tucked your panties into his trouser pocket.

"It's really pathetic, isn't it?" His tongue flicked over his plump lower lip until it was glistening with saliva, and a quick glance down at his crotch showed that he was hard. "You are so lucky that I am here to help you rid yourself of all the sins that you have committed, my child."

The humiliating nature of the situation was turning you on far more than you were prepared to admit. Your clit was throbbing with pain, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, and your thoughts were constantly wandering off in a thick, lustful haze.

"Show me how you touch yourself at night when you are alone with all those sordid thoughts. I want to see you give yourself over to sin." Wooyoung ordered you as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest in a casual manner. It was impossible to ignore his erection in this position, and your mouth fell open a little when you noticed just how massive the bulge was.

"Y-yes, sir." You whispered. Your mind was spinning with lust as you parted your legs slightly for easier access, your hand hesitantly touching the warm, soft flesh of your inner thighs, shuddering as you discovered the abundance of your juices running down it.

"Keep going, darling. Don't be shy." In response to his words, your fingers touched your neglected, throbbing clit, spreading a sticky, warm wetness and massaging it in slow, firm circles. You whimpered softly, partly from pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation that was blooming in your throat, to which Wooyoung only gave a wicked grin.

"Come on, we both know that you can do it better than that." He reproached you. "I'd like to see you fuck yourself, darling."

You swallowed hard and hesitantly let your fingers slide between the wet folds of your pussy. Your behaviour was beginning to irritate Wooyoung, and all the playfulness was gone in an instant, and a venomous bitterness appeared in his voice. With the silver of his rings digging uncomfortably into your skin, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. His gaze was as intent and as dark as the night, and you shivered at the sight.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said, fuck yourself."

It was such a rude and vulgar thing to say, especially coming from someone who was a priest, and it took your breath away. In obedience to his command, you immediately slid two fingers through the soft, wet folds and into your cunt. You let out a long moan as you felt your silky walls stretch around your fingers, and, trying to get more of the feeling, you began to move them back and forth. Trying desperately to keep your balance in this awkward position, your knees were getting weaker by the second, and you could feel yourself starting to orgasm.

"You don't expect me to believe that your slutty little cunt can only hold two fingers, do you?" Wooyoung mocked him, biting down on his plump lower lip with her perfect set of teeth.

Gritting your teeth against the invasion, you sighed heavily and added another finger. The soft walls of your vagina squeezed your fingers like a velvet vice with every move you made. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the shame that was quickly engulfing you like the flames of hell. The wet, squelching sound of your fingers moving in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar.

"Harder, show me all of it." Wooyoung's sharp command came out, and you did your best to obey, curling your fingers and rubbing them roughly against the small, spongy bundle of nerves inside you. You were breathing heavily, your forehead and neck glistening with sweat, and your lips red and swollen when Wooyoung finally told you to stop. It was cruel, the way he waited patiently and calculatedly until you were about to come, only to deny you, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain; it was your punishment after all.

Your fingers picked up the glistening wetness that flowed from your cunt, and as you looked at Wooyoung, you brought it to your mouth and wrapped your lips around your fingers, licking it and sucking every last drop of it.

He rose sharply from where he sat, shading you and towering over you like the very embodiment of God—or the Devil? Wooyoung wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on your hairline, with a look of genuine affection on his handsome face. This tenderness did not last for long, however, and after a few seconds, he was back in his unrelenting position of authority.

"On your knees, dear." You did so without hesitation, your knees immediately touching the faded and discoloured velour.

"Look at you, stripped of all your dignity, on your knees, writhing in despair, like a bitch in heat. Aren't you a sight to see?"

You blinked slowly, looking up at him with a fawn's wide-eyed innocence, squeezing your legs together as another wave of excitement surged from your needy cunt. Wooyoung taunted you; there was no way he would show you mercy—you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you coldly, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You have no pride, my dear, but you must still do penance for that, to be sure you will have forgiveness for that too." He lifted one foot and placed it on the seat of the bench, presenting you with a polished, expensive-looking shoe. "Clean it for me. With your mouth, my dear."

You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung but didn't argue, for fear that he would punish you more severely and in more subtle ways if you didn't comply. His boot looked clean enough; not a single scuff could be seen on the shiny leather, and as you moved closer to the bench, you ran the tip of your tongue along the leather in an experimental way. It didn't taste like much, which was a relief to your anxiety, and soon you were flattening your tongue and licking the hard material as if your life depended on it.

"Good girl." He cooed, but there was very little in the way of kindness in that reassurance. As if you were nothing more than a pet, his hand stroked your hair. You were relieved when Wooyoung pulled away and removed his foot from the bench, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt you were putting in your mouth.

"Look at me, my darling."

Your eyes fell on the large bulge at the front of his dark, neatly pressed trousers, and you moved away from the bench so that you were now level with his crotch. A beam of red light shone through the stained glass behind him, reflecting off the black stone of his ring as Wooyoung ran his fingers over his belt. As he slowly unbuckled the belt, the church was silent, except for the faint jingle of the metal buckle. Your gaze lingered for a moment on the image of the Virgin Mary that stood in the corner of the church. Was there judgement in her eyes? Was there a sense of disgust? Her face was as divinely serene as ever, and you couldn't tell.

Too handsome to be a saint, he bowed his head towards you, long strands of black hair falling down to frame his face. Wooyoung unzipped his trousers, taking a moment for a lewd touch of his bulge before pulling out his hard cock. The head of his cock was wet and turgid; a thick drop of pre-cum rolled down its length, and you wanted to follow its movement with your tongue.

"What do you crave, huh?" He asked, hissing as his hand slid up and down the length of his thick cock.

"Do you crave something that can't be satisfied?" His words flowed in a rhythmic flow, and his tone was so soft that you could almost swear that he was singing to you. It was the voice of an angel that was calling out to you. "Do you take all that they give you, only to find that you're still starving to death?" You bobbed your head up and down, desperate and needy, and parted your lips as he rubbed the head over your lips, staining them with pre-cum, making them slick and shiny. You were giddy, stunned by the pure, erotic beauty of this man, this stranger, whom you had so willingly allowed to pollute you in this house of God.

"You're a greedy little animal, aren't you?" Wooyoung taunted you with a throaty grunt as he slapped his cock against your cheek. You kept your hands on your hips, waiting obediently for further instructions. You grew more and more restless by the second, not having his dick in your mouth or in your hand.

God, you were one hungry little thing, you really were.

From where you were on your knees, he looked ethereal, his full lips moulded into a perfect, sensual shape. It was fascinating to watch such a man let himself fall apart like that, his chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his forehead as he moved his hand over his thick cock.

He let out a low, guttural moan as he picked up the pace and came closer and closer to the edge, throwing his head back towards the vaulted ceiling. You were so turned on that you were sure your juices were already dripping onto the carpet beneath you, forming a small puddle, a dirty declaration of your desire. The unpleasant throbbing of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed Wooyoung's approach to orgasm, his breathing choked and ragged.

He looked down at you and licked his luscious, almost sinful, lips.

"Open your mouth, dear." As if you knew he wanted it, you parted your jaw and lowered your head to his cock. Wooyoung jerked his cock a few more times before he released a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic roar of pleasure escaping from his lips like music. "Don't even have a thought about swallowing."

You felt the thick stream of his cum begin to flow down your tongue and into the depths of your throat, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. Wooyoung pulled his trousers back on, buckled his belt around his waist, and sat back down on the bench with a cold indifference. There was not a single trace left of the erotic image that you had seen just a minute ago.

He patted his muscular, thick thighs and looked at you defiantly, and you obediently walked over to him and sat down on his lap.

His warm thigh pressed against your cunt without pity as soon as you sat down, and you pressed against him desperately in pursuit of the pleasure he hadn't allowed you to have yet. At the same time, Wooyoung slapped your bare bottom with the palm of his hand.

"You have been impertinent to me, which means you have an anger that makes you want to sin. And that is one of my favourite sins, my dear. Wooyoung said as he put his hands on your hips to stop you from squirming on his leg. "To see all the terrible things people can do just because of a little anger is both fascinating and funny."

He lifted you slightly and placed you on his lap. You obeyed him without saying a word. He manipulated you like a doll, positioning you so that you were completely on top of him, your long hair falling in your face and your head tilted forward. You clenched your jaw as hard as you could, terrified of what would happen if you let a single drop of his sperm come out of your mouth. You winced and whimpered as he wedged his knee between your legs again, his hand brushing the tender junction of your ass and thigh.

"I can feel the rage burning deep inside you, my child." Wooyoung held your hands behind your back as he restrained you, tears welling in your eyes. He used his other hand to press down on your lower back and used his knee to press down on your wet cunt. You let out a scream, the piercing sound muffled by your closed lips. The texture of his cum seemed to get thicker the longer it remained on your tongue, and you had to clench your jaw tighter, praying that nothing would accidentally drip out. You couldn't afford to be disgusted by how bitter and cold it had become, coating your mouth with every slight movement you made.

"Isn't that so? Answer me, dear." He growled as he began to massage your ass so hard that you could feel his nails digging into your soft skin.

All you could manage was a pitiful "mmmm.".

"Angry, naughty girl." He said, his voice full of fake sympathy as he ran his fingertips along your thighs in preparation for what was to come. "We can't let this pass unnoticed, can we? You need to repent."

Without warning, he slapped your ass so hard you almost forgot the cum in your mouth. Your body jerked forward before he caught you and brought you back. He didn't give you any time to recover from the blow, as he landed a second one on the opposite side of your ass. Your eyes welled up with tears and concentration as you struggled to keep your mouth shut. Tears started streaming from your eyes down your flushed, hot cheeks as he hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times. Wooyoung continued his merciless assault, each blow harder than the last, until he landed a particularly hard blow that you were sure would leave a bloody handprint on your skin. The force of the blow was almost enough to bring you to a scream, and for a moment, your lips parted. A small stream of cum ran from the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin.

You hoped that he hadn't noticed, but you realised that you were out of luck when he let go of your wrists and took a firm grip of your hair instead. As he leaned down to speak roughly into your ear, he dug his nails into the battered, red skin of your ass as he pulled your head back.

"I will have no choice but to extend your punishment if you make a mess, my dear." When he warned you, Wooyoung's voice was deep and quietly ominous, like the ocean on the brink of a storm. He waited for a nod of understanding from you before he let go of your hair and returned to his previous position, running the palm of his hand lovingly over the swollen expanse of your ass.

You closed your eyes and took deep, slow breaths as Wooyoung spanked you over and over again without stopping. You would probably have enjoyed the spanking if it hadn't been for the added responsibility of holding a tonne of cum in your mouthYou s you squirm under his touch. His knee was still pressed relentlessly against your cunt, and his trousers were no doubt slippery from your excitement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body every time you jerked in response to another loud slap against your skin. The sound was almost deafening, echoing off the walls of the old church in a dull echo.

Your punishment turned Wooyoung on once more, his hard cock pressed against the side of your body.

"It's turning you on, you little bitch." The tone of his voice would have been venomous, but it still remained angelic in some way. "I shouldn't be surprised about that. It doesn't matter what kind of touch you have, is it? You're such a needy slut that even the most innocent of touches makes your cunt wet." He ran his fingers through the tangled hair at the back of your head and let out a mocking chuckle. "You can swallow now, darling."

You swallow the cold, sticky cum, gasping in relief as it slides down your throat, immediately following his request. You could still taste it on the inside of your mouth, a faint hint of savoury sweetness tickling your taste buds. After he had spent a few seconds stroking your battered bottom in gentle, soothing movements, he grabbed hold of your sides and lifted you up until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his lap. For the second time that night, he unbuckled his belt, sliding his trousers and boxer shorts halfway down his hips and freeing his thick cock.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Wooyoung's big, thick cock, but you knew better than to give in to your dark desires. All you could think about was how much you wanted to feel it—to run your hand along its veiny member, to curl your lips around its warm, velvety length, to jump on it and take it so deep into your cunt until you were sure you could feel it deep inside your belly. Wooyoung was absolutely right: you didn't care how he touched you at all. You were longing to feel his touch in any way that was possible.

"Pampered little sluts like you are always too used to being given everything they want without having to lift a finger to get it." He said this as he used his thumb to massage the wet head of his cock. He lifted you up and guided you to straddle him, his hands gripping the soft curves of your hips. Your breath caught; you were so close to your desire that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

"Is that what you wanted, darling?" Wooyoung hummed sweetly as he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist and pressed your hand down onto his cock. Instinctively, you grabbed hold of it, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you ran your fingers along the prominent veins that adorned the length of his cock.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You said it breathlessly. "God, yes. This is what I have been craving so much."

"You little whore, you ought to know better than to take the name of the Lord in vain in the presence of a priest." Wooyoung teased, and you could feel his hot, cinnamon-scented breath on the back of your neck. The pleasure rippled through your body.

"Please, Wooyoung, please, I want to repent." You came close to whimpering. Your hips jerked in Wooyoung's tight grip in search of some kind of relief, and he reached forward to hold you tightly.

"You must try harder, darling. I want to see you try to repent." He placed his hands on either side of you, and the corners of his sensual lips curled up slightly into a wicked grin as he leaned back against the bench and looked at you from under his half-closed eyelids. You leaned forward and held his cock upright by the base. Sitting up, you rubbed the flushed head along your soft, wet folds, pushing it past your entrance and stretching the small hole with his thick, hot cock. Your heart pounded in your chest, pounding against your ribs as you slid on top of him all at once. At the obviously intense pain of his thickness stretching your narrow, silky walls, tears streamed from your eyes.

"Dear Lord." You let out a loud moan and rolled your eyes back as he suddenly filled you to the brim. Wooyoung didn't move, maintaining a majestic coolness, but you could see him sucking his plump lower lip into his mouth when he could feel your pussy enveloping him, a soft hiss coming from the back of his throat.

"That's it, my darling." He praised you, not being able to control himself, and he began to knead your plump tits in his hands. You squealed and barely moved your hips, still trying to get used to the idea of having something so massive and so hot inside of you. "I want you to fuck yourself on my dick. Can you do that for me like a good girl?" he asked.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You replied breathlessly. You leaned over Wooyoung's shoulder and grabbed hold of the edge of the bench with both hands to prop yourself up. As you began to move slowly, up and down on his cock, Wooyoung pressed his mouth to your sensitive nipple and ran his tongue over it.

You were starting to sweat, but you continued to fuck yourself as ordered, gaining momentum with each thrust of your hips.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty church and mingled with the muffled, lascivious moans that escaped from your throat. You had never experienced ecstasy like this before, and you were not sure if you would ever be able to experience it again. You were insatiable, moving your hips in an almost painfully hard rhythm, your knuckles white from the force of your grip on the bench. The head of Wooyoung's cock reached your cervix, and you saw stars, unable to think of anything else but your inevitable orgasm and the devilishly beautiful man beneath you.

"Fuck, oh, fuck, Wooyoung, please..." You screamed out the words in an incoherent manner, completely consumed by the intense pleasure you were feeling. Wooyoung was a lot less eloquent than you and tried to control himself, but it was obvious that he was going crazy as well, judging by how hard he was pressing down on you. You could be sure that the marks that his hands had left on your body would be there for a long time to come.

He growled as he lifted his hips up towards you, and streams of tears began to run down your cheeks with renewed force. It hurt, but you loved the pain, you craved it, and you knew you wouldn't be able to forget it for weeks and weeks.

"I'm so close... oh fuck, I'm... I'm..." You let out a loud moan and threw your head back.

With that, he pushed you away from him with such force that you fell off his lap, your ass touching the cold velour carpet, his cock coming out of you just as you were about to come. You sobbed pitifully and looked up at Wooyoung with your eyes wide and glassy as he rose to his feet, his cock glistening with the wetness of your cunt.

"I don't think you're sincere enough in repenting; you're still full of sin, full of forbidden and dark desires, my dear." Wooyoung said it in a dismissive manner as he looked down at you. He leaned down and ran his long fingers through your hair, pulling you up until you were kneeling. "I know what you want, negligible girl. You want to cum. But unfortunately for you, today I'm the only one who can do it."

He mocked you, taking pleasure in the look of misery on your face as he forced your mouth open. He then shoved his cock into your mouth, letting you taste the arousal of your own as it covered him, and without any warning at all,, he began to fuck you in the face at a fast, merciless pace. Gagging on his cock and taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed down your throat, using your hair as a rein to guide your head, there was nothing you could do but take what was given to you. You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed against the smooth, hot skin of his pelvis, one hand holding you in place as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat. He released you and threw you on your side like a rag doll when he was sure you had drunk every last drop.

Too humiliated to look into the eyes of the gorgeous man who had brought you to this state, you began to sob, pulling your knees to your chest. There was no more holiness in Wooyoung than there was in the devil himself. Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, he wore a robe. At the moment, you were nothing more than a whimpering mess, bruised and humiliated, with a sore throat and trembling lips.

And yet somehow your cunt was throbbing and leaking, desperate for filling.

"Please, Wooyoung..." As the words left your lips, you felt numb and didn't even know how you could speak. "Please."

From where he was standing, he looked sinfully delicious, towering over you like a fallen angel dressed in black and sin as you lay on the floor, and you watched in disappointment as he tucked his dick back into his trousers. With what little strength you had left, you tugged at the hem of his trouser leg, and he tilted his head questioningly, a sensual smile crossing his plump lips at the sight of your hopeless state.

"Please. I don't know what you want me to repent for, but please.... Just... please. I'll do anything for you. Wooyoung..." You were on your knees, pressing your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging for food.

"What do you want, my child?" He asked in a voice that was patronising and majestic. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away some of the tears that had partially dried as he did so. "Wasn't that enough for you? Isn't it enough that my cock fills your mouth and your cunt? Are you going to ask me for more when I have already given you so much?"

You lowered your eyes in shame.

He grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and jerked you to your feet, throwing you onto the bench as he did so. Wooyoung licked his lips as he admired the sight of your naked body as it lay on the wooden bench, the angry red marks on your skin, and the blackened bruises that adorned your thighs.

"Do you want to cum? Is that what you want, you little slut?" Wooyoung asked you as he dropped to his knees and spread your thighs wide open. When you didn't answer, he smacked you hard on the inside of your thigh. "Answer me, bitch."

"Oh my God." You sighed, melting at the teasing sensation of the cold air of the wind on your hot and needy cunt as he spoke. "Y-yes Holy Father. That is what I want."

"Isn't it?" Wooyoung purred, holding your hips in place so that they would remain open for his pleasure. "I will be gracious to you, because that is what God commands us to be."

Suddenly, he lowered himself forward and buried his gorgeous face in your pussy, stroking vigorously between the folds of your pussy and collecting your sticky secretions on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangled in his black silk hair, reflexively rubbing your pussy all over his face. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking just enough to leave you stunned, and ran his tongue between your soft folds, swollen from his previous actions. Squirming helplessly under his ministrations, you cried out as he let go of one of your hips and slipped two long fingers inside you.

It was brutal—the way he moved his fingers inside you in a merciless way, his mouth working fervently over your clit. The edges of your vision became blurred, and soon you could feel the walls of your pussy beginning to contract, a sign that your climax was nearing.

"I... I... damn!" He flicked your head once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you came, throwing your head back in euphoria as you were consumed by your orgasm. Your cunt vibrated as Wooyoung laughed mockingly, and it was then that the whole situation became clear to you: you had been fucked, well and truly. He wasn't going to let you breathe; instead, he continued to play with your throbbing clit, a third finger thrusting into you with a dirty, lewd slurp.

"This is too much..." You whimpered as his tongue moved quickly around your sensitive clit, and his fingers spread you lightly as they went. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you—the pleasure coursing through you so strongly that it became unbearable—but you were sure that was what he wanted—to punish you with what you craved so much.

He ran his fingers inside of you, guiding them so that they hit the deepest places that no one else had ever been able to reach. He twisted and turned them, brushing against something that was spongy and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Just as you had feared, Wooyoung had no intention of stopping; now he was sucking on your clit with such passion that you could barely move, and you fell limply to the back of the bench, your legs twitching under his tight grip. He continued to push his fingers deep into you, your body shuddering weakly each time the tips of his fingers made contact with your cervix.

"Wooyoung, please stop." You begged, but all he did was laugh maliciously and spread his fingers out inside of you, stretching you even further. He pulled away from your clit with a loud pop, and you were on the verge of a sigh of relief until he removed his fingers from your core and replaced them with his sinful lips.

"N-no, that's too much, please!" Now you were sobbing openly as he lowered his head to lick the stripes between your folds, his thumb circling your defenceless clit, his long silken hair tickling the sore skin on your inner thighs.

Wooyoung sucked one of your labia into his mouth before he pushed himself deeper into your entrance and began to fuck you with his skilled, long tongue. You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach once more, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he pinched your clit with two fingers. The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you came, but this time everything was different: a wave of clear liquid burst from your overstimulated cunt and soaked Wooyoung's face and the front of his perfect shirt.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at the mess that you had made.

"You filthy little thing." He laughed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and licked his wet fingers at the mess. "So, what do you think? Have you come to understand how you can repent of your sins?"

"Y-yes, Holy Father." You said you were clenching your legs in a protective manner in case he decided to go for another round.

"Good." He rose to his feet again, looking just as untouched as he had been the first time you had seen him, except for his hair, which was slightly dishevelled.

Your whole body was aching, from your sore ass to your swollen cunt, from your hips to your back. You were sure that for the next few weeks, Wooyoung would be the only thing on your mind. "I will be waiting for your return, my child. I need to be sure that you have understood the righteous path and that you are living without sin. Do you understand me, dear?"

"Yes, Wooyoung, I am definitely going to come back to confess."

786 notes · View notes

mattslutt · 28 days

Text

JUST A BET

c.sturniolo (with matt sturniolo)

includes: strong language, cursing, pet names, angst, smut (not a lot, sorry), oral!female

short summary: finding out that you were just a bet for chris so matt helps you make him jealous. later on matt wanted more because turns out he always liked you.

authors note: the reader in this story is kinda messy and a slut but who wouldn’t be a slut for chris and matt?? have fun reading

As I was walking around the huge gathering at the triplets house filled with people i haven’t seen in my entire life, I was searching for Chris. It’s been almost six months since we were dating. I saw him next to the table with a group of guys and they were laughing a lot, i was interested to hear what they were laughing about, i got through a few people so I would be closer to the table and my heart dropped when i heard Chris and some of his friends mention my name plenty of times.

“So she was just a bet?”.

“Yeah.”

“Man, you’re heartless”, his friend said while laughing.

I didn’t want them to see me so I walked away as fast as I could, i felt sick to my stomach and I felt my eyes being filled with tears. I actually bumped into Matt cuz I wasn’t looking where I was going.

“Sorry Matt”.

“It’s okay - wait. Why are you crying? Is everything okay?”.

“No.”

“Who do I need to punch?”, Matt said jokingly.

“Punching your brother would be good”.

Matt seemed confused, he looked to where Chris was and then back at me again.

“What happened if you don’t mind me asking?.”

“Oh you know, found out I was just a silly bet for your brother Chris.”

I saw that Matt was tempted, he clenched his jaw.

“I don’t wanna be here anyways so I’m gonna go.” I tried walking away.

“Hey, hold up”, he softly grabbed me by the arm bringing me closer to him.

“What if we make him jealous? Give him his own taste of medicine?”.

There was a moment of silence but our eyes spoke for the words so I nodded my head.

“Good, come here”, Matt grabbed my hand and lead me closer to the DJ booth, leaning me against the wall where Chris could see both of us perfectly. Our faces were close. very close. I could feel both of our hearts beating fast and I caught Matts breathing getting heavier.

“Nervous?”, I whispered.

“Yeah”, he replied.

I slowly grabbed his hand and placed it on my chest so he could feel my heart beating.

“Me too”, I whispered.

Matt softly smiled at me in reply, he moved his face closer to mine.

“I always thought why you’re with him.”, he lowly spoke, whispering in my ear as his hands were slowly moving around my body.

“What do you mean?”, I tried playing clueless while I was actually going insane. His touch drove me crazy and I didn’t know how was he having this effect on me.

“Matt… What are you doing?”.

“Something I should have done a long time ago”., and with those words he leaned in to kiss me, hungrily. I melted into the kiss immediately, kissing him back with the need that he needed. I didn’t care if people were watching us, I was too lost in this moment with Matt.

The kiss kept getting deeper every second, our tongues were swirling together in motion, I felt him groan into the kiss as he pulled me closer to him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, a familiar voice echoed our ears. We pulled away from each other to see Chris standing in front of us.

“I don’t know. You might wanna explain yourself”, Matt replied.

“What the fuck are you doing? Making out with my girl in front of everyone.”.

“Your girl? I recall you calling her a bet in front of your friends and laughing it off”, Matt sounded pissed of, he walked closer to Chris. Both of their faces were filled with anger.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know anything”, Chris yelled.

He looked at my direction and came closer to me, grabbing my arms but I pushed them away.

“Baby, what are you doing? You know it’s not true”.

“Why are you lying to my face.”

“You seriously cannot tell me that you believe him?”, Chris sounded disgusted.

“I don’t need to believe him, because I overheard the entire conversation.”

Chris stood in disbelief, not wanting to loose me he tried to comfort me but I didn’t listen to him.

“Stop with this bullshit. We’re done”.

Chris froze in shock, everyone was laughing, gasping and some even filmed this entire chaos.

“No we’re not”, Chris grabbed my hand aggressively.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what can I do?”, I threw his arm off of mine.

Matt was still there, his eyes were on me the entire time. I walked up to him and grabbed his arm, walking him out of the living room, upstairs.

As we entered his room Matt closed the door behind us and locked it.

“Well that was… interesting ”, I whispered while giggling.

“Yeah. But you handled it well”, Matt teased.

“Thank you, Matt. For everything”.

He stood in silence but he kept staring at me. He gave me that up and down look which I definitely noticed.

“Matt. What’s racing through your mind?”, I whispered lowly. I knew the answer. I just wanted to tease him. Not even a minute later his lips were smashed on mine and this kiss was way more intense than the other one. It was more needy, more sloppy.

He slowly began to take off my shirt and I took off his. His eyes were starting down at my chest which formed a smirk on my lips, i needed this more than ever. He slowly pushed me onto the bed getting on top of me.

“Are you sure about this?”, Matt whispered.

“Mhm”, I whispered lowly.

Matt smirked as he leaned in to kiss my neck as his hands went down to unzip my pants. He slowly inserted his fingers under my panties as he looked up at me.

“You’re soaking wet”, he whispered.

I didn’t say anything, I just watched him go lower, spreading my legs and him burying his head between my legs. He slowly pulled the thong away, teasing me with his tongue on my soaking wet cunt.

“Matt”, I whined desperately.

“Shhh. Patience, sweetheart”.

With those words he gently licked my folds making me throw my head back as my nails digged into his hair, he let out a low groan fastening the peace with his tongue. I swear I could feel my climax build up already but I held it in on purpose.

“Why are you holding?”, Matt looked up at me.

“I wanna feel more”, I breathed out.

“Hmmm…. Like this?”, Matt spoke with the most innocent voice teasingly as he shoved his fingers inside me, making me moan loudly. He was enjoying the view too much. He watched me be an absolute fool for him, my back was arching, moans were getting louder as his fingers quickened the peace.

“You’re so good for me”, Matt teased me.

He continued to finger me roughly which made me start whining and throwing my head back, felt my eyes going all the way back to my skull. He leaned in to kiss me hungrily as his fingers were still inside me, I felt my climax as I couldn’t hold it in anymore longer, soon his fingers were covered in my juices. I breathed and sighed out loudly as he laid next to me, smirking and kissing my neck.

“You did so good sweetheart”.

After a few moments of silence Matt spoke:

“Just so you know, this was definitely not a bet”.

I laughed as I threw a pillow to Matt’s face as both of us started giggling and cuddling for the rest of the night.

____________________________________________

guess who’s alive???? so guys idk how long it’s been but im just so unmotivated to do anything and i lost my writing skills so bare with this please. i miss you all and love you all. thank you.

taglist: @plasticferal @hoesformatt @sturncrazy @sturnsblunt @55sturn @westwiing13 @freshloverr @gamermattsgf @mbbsgf @sturniolosstar

468 notes · View notes

narryffdreaming · 2 months

Text

Summary: Harry and Gianna are best friends. He's been in love with her for years now, but she's dating someone else and he knows it's time to move on. When Harry finally agrees to go out on a blind date, Gianna reaches out — she just broke up with her boyfriend, and she needs her best friend.

PART ONE AU, friends to lovers +18 (explicit language) 7k words I said to myself that I wouldn't do it, but I'm doing it anyway :D

Harry knocks on the bathroom door once, and then twice. He turns his head to the side and leans in, trying to catch any indication of an answer over the music blasting from downstairs.

It's hard to focus, though. The steady and rapid beat keeps banging from his ears to every corner of his brain, it echoes between the walls, and it seems to shake the ground beneath him. On top of that, even though he's on the second floor of the house, at the end of the hallway, and standing in an empty room, he can't tune out all the shouting, laughing, and cheering. All the people he walked past on his way in feel distant and muffled now, and yet he still can't hear one single thing through the white wood, which somehow makes everything even more annoying.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself, then steps away from the door.

He can still run away. He can still let her know he's busy tonight. He can still tell her that he won't be able to make it because he has somewhere else to go. Because he has someone else to see. Because he's already on his way to the opposite side of town.

He can… He still can… And also he should, right? He should tell her that. Mostly because, for once, it wouldn't even be a lie.

Holy shit.

Isn't it funny that, for the first time in three weeks, he wouldn't be lying to her? That for the first time he actually has plans to use as an excuse to not see her? That finally — finally — he's listened to his friends and agreed to move on?

And isn't it funny that, despite all that, there he is, on a Friday night, ignoring everything and everyone, and standing inside a stranger's house just because she asked him to?

Harry chuckles and rubs one hand across his face. He's so fucking stupid.

Because yes… He can still say no to her. And he should say no to her.

Except…

He shakes his head, and grabs his phone. Who's he even trying to fool? He can't say no to her. Of course he can't. C'mon. It's Gianna we're talking about. His Gianna. His best friend. The one person in the world he would do absolutely anything for. Of course he can't say no to her. Not when she says she needs him.

So… Ok. He needs to focus, instead. He needs to go straight to the point. He can't say no to her, but he can still say a quick hello and jump right into a goodbye. In and out. In a blink of an eye. He can be there for a friend, and still make it to his date.

Yes.

C'mon!

He checks her last text one more time, the one she sent forty-three minutes ago: second floor, last door. hiding in the bathroom. With a sigh, he puts his phone back into his pocket and takes a step forward, then turns his head to the side and presses his ear against the white wood. He lifts his hand in a fist, and knocks again. And again. And again. And again.

First comes some cursing, and then her loud and muffled voice. "Go away!"

Harry closes his eyes and, before he can even register what's happening, his lips have already turned up into a smile.

Gianna's voice is unmistakable. Not because there is something unusual or peculiar about it, but because it feels extremely characteristic of hers. Never too high, never too low. Always enough. It captures everything about her personality: the softness, the certainty, the brightness, the stubbornness, the kindness, the understanding, the annoyance, the reasoning, the confidence, the innocence, the strength, the—

Harry blinks his eyes open, and clears his throat.

He is there on a mission, so again, he needs to focus. Make sure she's ok, and make it in time for his date.

"You're the one who asked me to be here," he points out, raising his voice, but not actually yelling.

And then, it only takes three seconds for him to hear the click of the door being unlocked. He steps back and faces the bathroom, then takes a deep breath and pulls his curls away from his forehead.

Truth is, he hasn't seen Gianna in three weeks, and he can't deny he's dying to be around her again. To see the wrinkles on her face when she smiles, or the sparkles in her eyes when she tells him about something exciting that happened to her.

Fuck.

His stomach feels funny, and he gulps down. He absolutely hates this.

The door cracks open, but Gianna barely gives herself enough space to look outside, let alone to give him the chance to look at her.

"Is it just you?" she asks, peeking around him through the tiny gap she's created.

Harry frowns, and snorts. "No, I just met a bunch of strangers downstairs and brought them up here to check on my friend who apparently locked herself in some random bathroom and—"

"Okay, okay." She rolls her eyes and sighs, then steps aside. "I get it."

She hides behind the door, and silently offers him more room to walk in.

Harry shakes his head and presses his lips into a tight line, but shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walks forward anyway.

The space is tiny, but enough for both of them. White walls match the toilet, the bathtub, the countertop with the sink, and the medicine cabinet. The only sources of color are the orange towel hanging on the wall next to the sink, the bottles of shampoo on a corner shelf, the yellow shower curtain crumpled on one side of the tub, and a bowl of Doritos on top of the closed toilet lid.

He quirks one corner of his mouth up, but also furrows his brows. What the hell is going on? How long has she been here? And why is she even hiding in the bathroom in the first place?

Gianna closes and locks the door, and Harry jolts.

He turns on his feet, just in time to see her twirling around, too.

She glares at him with a frown on her face and hands on her hips. Her chest moves up and down, quickly and heavily, and her nostrils flare every time she takes a deep breath in. It's easy to notice, because the green overall she's wearing does a great job at hiding everything from her belly to her midcalf, but it isn't covering that much of her cleavage. Nor the soft skin on her shoulders. Nor the smoothness of her arms. And her long necklace — the one she got for herself after her first paycheck — follows the movements of her lungs, and the big, golden pendant is this close to get lost between the swells of her breasts.

Fuck. Heat rushes through his body, and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

He can't make her uncomfortable, though. He can't let her know the thoughts that keep crossing his mind every time he looks at her body. He can't even let her know he (sometimes and unwillingly) glances at her body. Fuck no. He can't be inappropriate.

He can't, under any circumstance, cross that line with her.

He just can't.

He clears his throat and forces himself to focus on her face, then. Taking in her infuriated expression first, and then her puffy cheeks, and then her smudged makeup…

And then her red eyes…

And then her washed-out stare…

He drops his shoulders, then exhales through his nose.

Here we go again…

"What did he do now?"

She opens her mouth, then closes it. And Harry's seen that same reaction so many times before that he already knows she's changing her mind about the kind of answer she wants to give him. That she will somehow deflect the truth. And that she will once again try to protect that fucking son of a bitch.

"I just…" Gianna says, and shrugs. "I just hate him."

Harry stares at her for a moment, then tilts his chin down and looks at his feet. Ok. Maybe not what he expected her to say, but still… He shakes his head and laughs, and the sound comes out of him as humorless and exhausted as he feels.

"Right," he offers, because it's the only thing he can come up with.

Is it possible for him to feel concerned about her, but also extremely annoyed at her? Because he can swear he is.

Gianna's big pleading eyes and cherry pouty mouth have always been some of his biggest weaknesses, but he promised himself he wouldn't do this again. He promised he wouldn't interfere anymore. He promised he would let her go. And he promised he would move on.

"I do, Harry," she insists. "I truly do."

He nods, then takes one hand out of his pocket and rubs one finger under his nose. Whatever. He really isn't in the mood for this drama. Not again. Not tonight. Not when he has finally decided to move on and is supposed to be on a date instead.

"You texted," he says, dropping his arm and lifting his head to face her again. He hides his hand inside his pocket again, secretly wriggling his fingers and trying to get some of his tension off his body. "Thought something happened to you."

She looks away from him, then shrugs. Her hand falls from her hip to hang by the side of her body, and she tilts her chin down, staring at her fidgety fingers.

Harry notices the moment she swallows hard, as if burying her emotions down her throat, and his entire body goes cold.

Gianna isn't happy, and she hasn't been for such a long time. And at the end of the day, it kills him to see her like this. It kills him to see her so sad. It really does. He wants to take her pain away, he wants to hold her, and he wants to protect her. And yet he can't. Not how he would like to, at least. And he doesn't know how to help her anymore. He doesn't know what else he can do. Or what else he can say. He's already tried everything and, to be honest, he feels as if he has completely run out of options. As if he has failed her.

He's powerless, and he's useless.

And he's also really fucking lost.

"I hate him," she finally says, glancing at him and repeating herself. Ignoring his attempt to change the subject.

And for a moment, Harry can swear he sees a flicker of certainty inside her. He sees it, and he feels it.

Maybe…

Yeah. Maybe she finally means it. Maybe this time is actually different.

Maybe she finally realized that fucking son of a bitch isn't worth a second of her day and she's finally going to—

No.

Harry looks away.

He'll just never learn the lesson, will he?

"I mean it."

"Right. Ok, then."

"Ugh," Gianna grunts, then clenches her teeth. "Stop saying that!"

"Saying what?" he asks, walking to the bathtub.

"Right," Gianna mimics.

Her attempt to imitate his voice and accent is endearing, and as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, he also purses his lips to hold back a smile.

"It's truly annoying," she adds. "Especially when you say it like that."

He places his elbows on his knees and tilts his chin up, looking at her.

Her arms are crossed, and she is glaring at him again.

Harry shrugs. "Like what?"

Gianna shakes her head and looks away—first at the floor, then at the sink. It takes her a moment to sigh and shrug, and when she finally speaks, her voice is only a weak whisper. "Like you don't believe in me anymore."

And just like that, Harry's entire body softens.

He didn't mean to make her think that. He didn't mean to hurt her or to be mean to her. He didn't mean to make her sad. He just… He just can't understand the situation. He just doesn't know what to do about it, and he also doesn't know how to bring it up to her anymore.

There is nothing in the world he wishes more than for those words to be true. For her to actually hate that fucking guy and leave him for good. So of course he wants to believe her, and he would if he hadn't heard the same story countless times before. But what good getting his hopes up for nothing, once again, would even do?

"Gi…" Harry says, stretching one arm to poke her knee. She flinches away, and he sighs. "Gi, c'mon, look at me."

"No."

He leans forward, stretching both of his arms now. When he still doesn't reach her, he lifts his bum a little and groans, then finally grabs her waist and pulls her closer. "Just come here."

Gianna doesn't fight him, letting him guide her until she is standing in front of him and in between his knees. Still, she doesn't look at him, keeping her arms crossed under her chest and focusing on the yellow curtain to his left, instead.

Truthfully speaking, her stubbornness is usually one of the traits Harry enjoys the least, because it tends to make her act like a grumpy, annoying little girl. On the other hand, it is also one of the things he envies the most about her, because it drives her forward to achieve whatever she wants — like when she plays it in her favor to get interviews or exclusive content for the magazine she works at.

Besides, Gianna isn't perfect, Harry knows that. And he doesn't expect her to be. So he humors her childish behavior sometimes. Like right now, when he's determined to bury himself inside her eyes. Tilting his chin up, dropping his head back and straightening his back just to look at her. Searching for her sight even if she won't give in and share it with him.

"Gi," he calls, as careful, soft, and tender as he can be. "Hey… I'm sorry, ok?"

She bites her lip, and shrugs.

And because she's also old and mature enough to act like an adult, he doesn't hold himself back from trying to put some sense into her.

"You gotta understand where I'm coming from, yeah? We've been here before, and—"

"I know, but—"

"No, you don't know, Gi. So let me say this."

She sighs, but peeks at him through the corner of her eyes and nods.

It is more than enough for him, and he gives her a half-smile, placing the tip of his fingers on the side of her knees—just to hold her somehow, just to make sure she won't run away from him before he can explain himself.

"We've been through this thousands of times, and I fucking hate when you still stay with him every single one of them. Because I hate the guy."

"I know sometimes you don't like him, but—"

"Gi, no. Listen to what I'm saying. I don't like that guy from work who chews too loudly and makes boring jokes. But Miles? I'm telling you I fucking hate him."

Gianna drops her shoulders, and her arms fall to her sides.

"Harry…" She dips her chin down and draws her eyebrows together, finally fully looking at him. "But that's… I mean… He's my boyfriend."

A new kind of heat flushes through his body, and Harry tenses.

Is she being fucking serious right now?

Is she actually going to defend him?

Is she going to stand up for him or something?

He closes his eyes for a second and clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath and trying his best to keep himself together.

He can't do this anymore. He can't keep running in circles. He can't keep dodging the truth just to protect their friendship. Mostly because, at this point, he isn't really protecting any of them anymore.

"I know," he says, blinking his eyes open and meeting her gaze one more time. "I know he is. But you're my best friend and I love you, and I hate the way he treats you. I hate that we can't see each other without it turning into a fight between you two. I hate that he won't support the things you love. I hate that he's always tricking you into changing your mind about things. I hate that you're always sad because of him. I hate that he's always making you cry. So yeah, Gi… I know he's your boyfriend, but I hate him. And I'm not sorry for that."

For a long moment, there's nothing but silence between them. Music and people are completely muffled by the walls and the closed door, almost making it easy to forget there is even a party going on out there.

Harry sits there patiently. Watching her. Waiting for her.

And Gianna watches him back. Attentive. Curious. Puzzled. Thoughtful. Scanning him with those beautiful, big, meaningful eyes. Standing right in front of him, between his knees. So close that, if he faced forward, he would only need to lean a couple inches to kiss her body. And she smells heavenly, too, like she always does when she's wearing that same perfume — fresh, captivating, sexy.

The woman of his dreams, embarrassingly as it may sound. And embarrassingly as it may be.

"Is that…" she murmurs, so quietly she really doesn't mean for anyone but him to hear. "I mean, is he the reason why you've been avoiding me these past few weeks?"

He closes his eyes for half a moment, then looks back at her. "You noticed, huh?"

"You thought I wouldn't?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Wasn't trying to make it obvious."

"Well, it sucked, okay? One morning I even cried listening to you on the radio."

Harry tilts his head, and pulls the corners of his mouth into a smile. "No you didn't."

She rolls her eyes, holding back a smile of her own. "Trust me, I wish it was a lie."

"Ugh." He dips his head down for a moment, rolling his shoulders before looking up again. "'M sorry, Gi."

"Yeah…" She crosses her arms once again, pressing them against her stomach and clenching her hands into fists. "I'm sorry, too."

She looks away, and he taps the tip of his fingers on the back of her knees. Already missing her undivided attention.

"What happened, Gi?" he carefully asks. "How long have you been hiding here?"

"I… I don't know. An hour? Maybe more…"

Harry sighs. "Gi… C'mon."

"I know."

"You see how insane it is, right?" he asks, staring directly at her just to observe her reaction. To make sure he isn't pushing too much. To make sure he's actually helping her, and not making it worse. "Hiding in someone's bathroom for over an hour while he's out there throwing a party for people half his age?"

She closes her eyes, then bites her bottom lip and nods.

She knows.

She actually knows.

Whatever happened this time, it finally woke her up. It finally made her see it.

He drops his shoulders, scanning her face.

Then why is she still here? Why does she keep waiting around for him? Why does she keep putting herself in this position? Over and over again? What is so special about this fucking guy that is worth all the pain he constantly puts her through?

And most importantly, what is it going to take for her to finally realize that she deserves so much better than to be treated like… This?

What can he do to help her? What's left for him to try? If he's run out of ideas, if he's said everything he could say to her, what difference can he still make?

Maybe…

No.

A thought creeps in, but he doesn't want to acknowledge it. He doesn't want to engage with it.

Although he should, because it is a new idea, and it is something he hasn't tried yet. It includes being honest, not filtering his thoughts just to make sure she won't end up hating him, and stop playing safe. It also forces him to finally take a chance, and to finally stop holding himself back.

It's too risky, though. Especially right now, when she's so vulnerable and still dating the guy.

Ok… So maybe not the entire truth, then? Maybe just the facts she needs to hear to break away from whatever curse that asshole spread on her.

And he can try that. He did it just minutes ago, when he told her how much he hates the guy — and that seemed to work more than fine so far, right?

Yes.

Ok, then.

He slides his tongue between his lips, and rolls his shoulders. And then, keeping his eyes on her, he finally says, "Gi, you deserve a lot better than this."

Gianna doesn't seem to react, although the way her breasts suddenly pop up into his eye-line suggests she's holding all the breath in her chest.

He insists, then — mostly because he knows she's actively listening to him, but also because he can't allow his fucking hormones distract him from what's really important right now.

"You deserve to be treated so much better than the way he treats you."

She stays still, frozen in front of him.

So he places his hands on the back of her knees and gently squeezes her. Briefly, though. Just one time. Just to make sure he gets her attention when he asks, "You know that, right?"

Gianna shrugs, then. And Harry catches the moment her bottom lip trembles. And how her breath quivers when she exhales.

"Hey," he says, squeezing her again. "Sorry, love. Don't wanna make you cry."

He's crossing the line.

He shouldn't touch her like this.

He knows that.

Even if it's an innocent hold on top of her clothes. Even if she barely notices it. Even if it means nothing to her.

Because he notices. He feels her body under his palm, and he feels the way her flesh sinks when he digs each one of his fingertips to get her attention.

And he notices how she fits perfectly into his grip. And now he can't stop thinking how there isn't even an inch of her body he doesn't want to squeeze and feel just like this, but also way, way more.

"I'm not—It's not…" Gianna says (or tries to say).

Harry blinks, and loosens up his craving fingers.

Gianna shakes her head and opens her eyes, looking at him again. "He didn't look for me, y'know? I've been here all this time and he didn't… Not even a text."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that, so he brushes his thumb up and down once. Trying to comfort her. Trying to sooth her. Trying to remind her he is there, and he is listening to her. He is taking care of her.

"Something could've happened to me and he just… He just doesn't care at all."

He repeats the movement of his fingers one more time, and when she still doesn't seem to mind or be bothered by it, he repeats it again. Over and over. Drawing small, tiny circles on the back of her knees.

"'M sorry, love."

"I hate him."

And this time, Harry genuinely believes her.

"Me too," he says, keeping the steady stroke of his thumbs.

"He's just so fucking stupid."

"He is. Most fucking stupid guy I've—"

"And he broke up with me!"

Harry shuts his mouth.

What?

He did what?!

"It was so… Humiliating…" Gianna laughs, painfully, shortly and bitterly. And then the first tear rolls down her cheek, and although she quickly wipes it off, it's like she can't stop the next ones from following the exact same path.

Holy shit.

"Gi," Harry whispers.

She shakes her head and looks down to his chest, or maybe to his thighs, or just to anywhere in between them that doesn't include his eyes. She sniffs once, and, amidst new tears, she finally shares with him the one thing she's been avoiding to face the entire night.

"I don't… I don't even know what I did this time. Honestly… He came early to set everything up, so Crystal gave me a ride and… And then when we arrived he just… I just went to say hello to him… I didn't… He just broke up with me, H… Out of nowhere, and in front of everyone."

Jesus Christ.

There are suddenly a lot of things to unpack.

Too many things to point out. Too many things to ask.

Questions.

Yes.

So many questions.

Hundreds of them.

But the first one he blurts out is, "Crystal is here?"

Gianna sniffs, rubbing both hands on her cheeks, and nods.

"Angela too?"

"Yes."

Harry frowns. "Well, and where are they right now?"

"I don't know."

He can feel his muscles twitching. The urge to crack his knuckles and run after those two little b—

"Were they there when it happened?"

Gianna nods.

"And do they know you're here? Did they at least try to reach out to you?"

"I don't—I don't know, H…" she murmurs, dropping her arms to her sides and fidgeting with her fingers. "And to be honest I don't care… I don't want to see them… They'll tell me it was nothing… That he didn't mean it… And then they'll say I should forgive him and I just… I don't… I can't…"

Harry shuffles on the bathtub, and suddenly he's awfully aware of how much he'll, sooner or later, regret sitting there for so long. Still, right now, as he leans just a little bit closer to her, that's definitely the least of his worries.

"You can't forgive him, Gi," he pleads. "Not this time. Not after all this."

"I know… I know I can't… I just…"

She shakes her head, and Harry twitches his fingers around her knees. Digging them slightly, begging her not to stop. Not now. Not after all the progress they've made.

"What? Tell me… I'm here, yeah? I'm listening."

She takes one hand to her forehead and rubs the tips of her fingers from one side to the other. As if trying to slide the words out of her brain.

"I'm just… Scared."

"Ok…" Harry tilts his head, searching for her eyes. "Scared of what, love? Of him? Because you know I'll never let—"

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm not scared of him… It's not—Ugh… Look, I don't want to keep doing this anymore, okay? I really don't. But I'm… I'm scared I'll end up calling him anyway… And I know I shouldn't, I know that, but I… I mean, I don't know… I just… I don't know…"

"Ok, just breathe, yeah?" He moves his thumbs up and down again, foolishly hoping his touch will be enough to soothe her.

"I don't want to be that girl," she says, then takes a deep breath in, and lets the air out through her mouth. "I swear I don't."

"Ok… That's—"

"I'm scared I'll be, tho. And I don't want to. I don't—"

"Gi, hey… Listen to me."

She stops talking, and she also glances back at him. The look on her face is so scared, though, that it makes Harry's chest hurt.

He sighs, and asks. "Why would you call him, tho, hm?"

Gianna shrugs.

"If you don't want to… And if you're saying you know you shouldn't… Why are you so scared you'll call him anyway?"

"I don't know…"

She looks away again, and Harry notices that, unlike him, the only way she can get the words out of her mind is if she isn't staring at him.

"It's just what I did every other time before… He'll break up with me, then I'll get lonely at home and call him. And then he'll—"

"Wait." Harry frowns. "Just... Hold on a minute. This isn't the first time?"

She looks down to the floor, and shakes her head.

"How many times did he break up with you?"

Gianna laughs — humorlessly, tirelessly, unwillingly.

"Please don't make me answer that."

Harry freezes for a moment, and cautiously watches her. He examines her. Studies her. Trying to find any of the sparks she's usually radiating off her. Or any traces of joy. Or at least some peace in between everything that's happening. But she's just so sad. And she also looks so ashamed, and so scared, that he just… He can't do it anymore.

Honestly.

It's beyond whatever he can handle right now.

So he squeezes the back of her knees and pushes her closer, then leans in and places his head against her belly.

He closes his eyes, and sighs.

Holly shit.

Harry doesn't want to be dramatic, ok? So he'll never admit this out loud, but this shit physically pains him. It just does. He can't grasp his mind around the fact that getting into fights with her, making her cry, and diminishing her ideas wasn't enough for that fucking asshole. That he still needed to mess around with her feelings, and that he got away with it for so long that she now believes she'll end up crawling back to him no matter what.

He also hates the fact that he never knew "breaking up" was a common thing between them. That Gianna wasn't just forgiving all the childish and fucked up things Miles did, but that she was actively calling him up and asking to go back to him. And he doesn't blame her for that, ok? He doesn't. He loves her. So he just… Y'know…

He just…

"Fuck," he murmurs, clenching his teeth. "That fucking son of a bitch."

Gianna breathes in, and Harry feels the way her stomach slowly fills up with air, moving his head along with it. And then she exhales out, heavily and through her nose, and her stomach empties again, and Harry's head follows the movement again.

"I'm sorry, H," she murmurs, too. "I didn't—"

He shakes his head, burying his forehead on the fabric of her overall, and lifts his hands slightly, just an inch above the back of her knees. Being mindful to not overstep, but also deeply struggling to contain himself.

"Please don't apologize," he says, intentionally keeping his voice down. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She places her hands on the back of his head. Softly and gently. Almost like she's unsure of what she's doing.

"It feels like I did, tho."

"You didn't. I promise you didn't."

Gianna doesn't seem to have an answer for that, and she also doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands. Tapping his hair as if she's trying to figure out where to put them.

Harry brushes his thumbs up and down, just like before — although he's now hesitantly venturing himself on the back of her thighs, and that embarrassingly feels way more dangerous and thrilling than whatever he did with (or to) any other person up until then.

And it seems to have some sort of effect on her, too, because she relaxes underneath him. Her muscles seem to loosen up, and she finally drops the weight of her palms on the back of his head.

Next thing he knows, Gianna's already threading her fingers through his hair. Running her nails over his scalp, and entertaining herself while fiddling with his curls.

Harry smiles, and slows down under her touch. His breathing follows the rhythm of her hands, and his heart is loud and heavy, but it doesn't seem to squash his chest anymore. It's not painful anymore.

Time goes by unnoticed. And it's like the world around them doesn't even exist anymore.

It's good.

And it's new.

And it's peaceful.

And it's refreshing.

So much so that, when Gianna speaks again, even the pain and the sadness in her voice sound lighter.

"I hate myself for calling him," she says, keeping up with the strokes on his head, "and I really don't want to do it again."

Harry nods.

"I'm scared I will anyway, H…"

He squeezes her once, just to let her know he's listening, and then he rummages through his brain, trying to find something useful to say.

He can't say he understands her fear, because he isn't sure he does. What he knows is that he always struggled to say no to Gianna, and that no matter how hard he tried he was never able to let her go. But he can't compare both situations, can he? After all, she never played with his feelings, because she doesn't know about them. Miles, on the other hand, was pretty much aware of the relationship they were in. Miles knew what he was doing, and Miles actively chose to string her along.

So, no, it is not the same thing.

On top of that… Harry can't imagine her calling him out of nowhere. Not when she's so sure she doesn't want him anymore. Not when she's so sure she hates him.

Unless… Well, is she still in love with him? Is that why she thinks she'll go back to him? Because she loves him so much that she'll miss him?

No… C'mon… She doesn't.

Does she?

Shit.

Certainly, it's not his place to answer that, but it doesn't feel like she's in love with the guy. It feels like she's used to being with him, but because she doesn't know anything better.

Besides, he's never seen her so determined to put an end to the relationship. This is the first time he's seen it written all over her face. It's also the first time she's called him because Miles broke up with her, and the first time she even told him it happened. So how… How can she still be so unsure of herself?

Harry pulls away and blinks his eyes open. Adjusting to the bright cool light, and also searching for her eyes.

Gianna slides her hands off his hair and rests them on his shoulders. Holding herself onto him while she tilts her chin down and meets his stare.

"I know you said you called him every other time before, but… Did you also feel like this the other times?"

She frowns, and it's enough for him to already know the answer. Still, he waits for her, and lets her come to a conclusion on her own.

"I don't… Think so? I mean, no. It feels… Different this time."

Fuck yeah it does.

Just look at them!

Harry wants to chuckle, but he knows he can't, and he knows he shouldn't, so he breathes in deeply and shrugs.

"So maybe this time it will be different, yeah?" he asks, then takes a chance and drags his palms another inch further up on the back of her thighs.

Gianna takes a tiny step closer to him, and he's more than happy to take that as a little victory.

"Maybe… But I don't know if I have so much faith in myself."

"Why not, Gi? If you know he's such an idiot, and you know you don't wanna go back to him, why do you still think you will?"

"Because I'm that stupid, H. Because apparently I can't—"

"Stop," he says, and squeezes the back of her thighs

Gianna gasps softly, and widens her eyes.

Shit.

Although Harry always tries to be gentle, he knows his grip ended up being tighter than he originally meant to. He can feel it on the way his nails are digging into her flesh, and on the way he's also flexing his arms.

Part of him wants to apologize and put some distance between them before she can do it herself. Before she realizes what's happening and tell him to fuck off.

The other part, though, knows it's too late to go back from whatever he already did tonight, and that so far the truth is the only road that seems to be actually taking him somewhere.

So Harry straightens up his back and keeps his hands in the exact same place, firm and steady.

He doesn't take anything back, nor pretends it isn't actually happening.

"I can't let you do this to yourself, ok?" he says. "Because you're not stupid."

Gianna blinks.

"You're the most fascinating woman I've ever met," he adds, because now that he's started he doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself anymore. "You're kind, and smart, and creative, and funny."

He loosens up one hand and pulls it away, but only to take it up to her face and brush his thumb under her eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Gi," he says, cleaning some of her smudged makeup.

"So, so beautiful…" He strokes her cheek, and then under her other eye. "That you're just… You're breathtaking."

She blinks again, and again, and again. As if trying to absorb the information not only through her ears, but also through her eyes.

And Harry likes the way she's listening to him, the way she's leaning closer. The way she's softening in front of him. He doesn't know what it means, but he knows he likes it. So he keeps going, choosing to only stop if she asks him to.

"And you're constantly blowing my mind, for whatever reason." He drops his hand again, placing it on the back of her thigh, where it feels they belong now. "Your ideas, your point of views, your actions… Everything, Gi. Everything you do is just… Amazing. You are amazing."

She flickers her eyes around his face, and Harry gives her time to do so. He waits for her. Brushing his thumbs up and down. Subtly caressing the back of her thighs.

"I don't… I don't know what to say."

"It's ok…" He smiles. Softly. Fondly. "You don't have to say anything."

Gianna shrugs. She picks his t-shirt between her fingers, fidgeting with it while still watching him.

"Kinda feels like I have to. I mean, those are… Y'know… Really nice things to say about someone."

"I know. Yes." He smiles bigger, and nods. "Want me to say them again?"

She rolls her eyes, but it's easy to catch the way her mouth tries to curl into a smile as well. Or the way some cheerfulness brightens up her face.

And there she is again…

Harry tilts his head, hooked and charmed by the way she looks. By the woman she is.

Chest warm and fuzzy.

Head over the moon.

Pathetically in love.

"I think very highly of you, Gi."

"You do?"

"Mhmm… You should know that by now."

She drums her fingers on his shoulders, and he brushes his thumbs on the back of her thighs.

"This is… I mean…"

"What?"

"Ugh." She groans, throwing her head back and glancing at the ceiling. "I don't know. I'm just really confused right now."

"Oh. It's... It's ok," he says, eyes suddenly too focused and mind too distracted.

Her neck is pretty, isn't it? And her skin looks the sweetest, softest place he could lay his lips on.

Harry swallows.

He looks down, and meets her chest — which only makes it worse.

Fuck.

He closes his eyes, and shakes his head.

When he looks at her again, she's thankfully already facing down and staring back at him. Making it easier for him to talk again.

"Don't wanna confuse you right now," he says, then clears his throat. "It's not the right time to reveal all of my thoughts about you, anyway."

"All of your thoughts about me? What—How many do you have?"

Harry chuckles. She's so fucking cute.

"Not today, yeah?"

She narrows her eyes. "Harry…"

He shrugs. "Look, all you need to know right now is that you're not stupid. And I know you're scared, but this time you have me by your side, yeah? And I won't let that son of a bitch hurt you again. Ok?"

"I appreciate that, but you don't have to—"

"Gi. Ok?"

She sighs.

"Okay."

"Good."

A beat of silence echoes between them.

Gianna and Harry fill it by staring at each other. Consciously ignoring the fact that time is ticking by. And also ignoring the fact that, although they probably should feel awkward by whatever is going on right now, they actually don't feel awkward at all.

And then clattering and shattering thunder from downstairs, and Gianna and Harry jolt. They both turn their heads to face the door, waiting for something to happen. And when people seem to erupt into desperate cheering and yelling, they both turn again, and look at each other. Again.

"Do you think it'll be okay if I spend the night at yours?" she asks. "Most of my things are at Miles' and I… I don't know. To be honest I don't want to spend the night at my place."

Harry nods. "Yeah, of course. You can sleep back at mine."

He rolls his shoulders, then tilts his head to one side, and to the other.

"Do you think it'll be ok if we leave this place right now, tho?" he asks, brushing his palms up and down the back of her thighs, then sliding them to gently tap the sides of her legs. "Can't stand this place anymore."

"Yeah." Gianna smiles, and squeezes his shoulders. "We should go."

"Great." He squeezes her legs, and brushes his thumbs in wide, slow circles. "Good."

She nods and slides her hands down his shoulders, letting her fingers brush down his chest. "Mhmm…"

"We'll go, then." He spreads his legs even wider and nudges her forward, holding her legs tightly while forcing her to take a step closer.

"We will." She draws her hands back to his shoulders, fully holding onto him. "Whenever you want to."

Harry closes his eyes and leans forward, pressing his face to her stomach, and then a kiss on top of her clothes. Without pulling away, he groans against the green fabric, then murmurs, "You're not making this any easier for me, y'know?"

Gianna chuckles, allowing her hands to timidly explore his back. "I swear to God I have no idea what's going on right now."

He pulls away, tilting his chin up and looking at her. "We'll have plenty of time to figure it out. But right now, let's just get the fuck out of here. Please."

"Okay," she says, and smiles, but doesn't make any attempt to actually move.

"Ugh." He grabs her waist and pushes her off, standing up and stumbling along with her feet as they both step away from the bathtub.

She bites her lip and giggles, and it honestly takes absolutely everything inside him to not kiss her right then and there.

"C'mon," he says, finding her hand and holding it tightly. "Let's take this back to mine."

Hiii :)

Someone sent me a request back in 2022 and I came up with 85% of this. Then last week I decided to finish it and finally post it (always better late than never, huh? hehe).

There are soooo many things I have in mind for this one, so many things I haven't explored yet, and so many things that I intentionally left unanswered... But for now, this right here, is all I have, and I wanted to share it anyway :) I'm basically just challenging myself and my overthinking, so let's hope I don't regret it lol.

ANYWAY, thanks for reading.

Dani.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles au

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loveforeren · 11 months

Text

Lights! ☆ Camera!!☆ Action!!!☆

✰ Starring ✰ Miguel O'Hara

The live video you will be participating in contains:

Camboy/Streamer Miguel, voyeurism, Oral sex, biting, dirty talk, Miguel is Shameless, Dom!Miguel, exhibitionism, a small amount of spanking, Mami, and other pet names being used.

Viewer discretion is advised.

Enjoy the show.

Scene one!! 🎬 Look who's here

You peered into the cracked door of your boyfriend's streaming room. His hand was pumping his fully erect cock as he murmured your name. The camera was in front of him with the chat blowing up. You would be lying if you said it was causing your pussy to ache. He was so fucking pretty, and so fucking huge. The camera only showed from his neck down. You know if they saw his face they'd be absolutely mesmerized by it. As you peered further into the room by some miraculous change you managed to trip stumbling into the room. Miguel's head snapped to you, and a sly smirk appeared on his face.

"Ah...Chat it seems my lovely girlfriend decided to visit me what should I do..?" He asked already knowing what he planned to do.

They wanted him to eat that precious pussy of yours. They didn't have to tell him twice.

═════════ ⋆★⋆═════════

Scene two!! 🎬 Spread for the camera

You were now naked as you sat on Miguel's lap his hands on your thighs. You swear you'd be embarrassed if you didn't feel his pulsing length touching you.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, Mami. Show them that pretty pussy of yours~" Miguel whispered in your ear.

His voice was like a drug, and you couldn't get enough of it. You obediently spread your legs in front of the camera. Miguel made sure your face stayed out of the camera. Your dripping and needy cunt was on display to all the people on the stream, but you didn't care. All you cared about was the sweet nothings and kisses Miguel was leaving on your neck.

"Mi amor...you ready?" He asks quietly.

You nod as the chat continues to go wild.

"Good." He grinned.

═════════ ⋆★⋆═════════

Scene three!! 🎬 Let me taste you

"Oh god- R-right there-" you slurred out as Miguel's tongue maneuvered around your needy cunt.

You were hovering over his face until..you felt one of his hands hit your thigh. Not too hard but hard enough for you to sit down. He wanted you to sit, not hover. The mask he had on to cover the upper half of his face occasionally bumped your clit along with his nose. You swear he'd be down there if he could. You try to take your weight off of him hovering. You could see the chat just barely through your teary eyes.

'Sit down all the way!!'

You hovered over Miguel until you felt his claws sharply graze your skin before his hand met your ass. You could've sworn the sound echoed through the room. You continue to hover over him with your ass aching from when he hit it.

"Sit down." He said...no demanded.

You whined quietly and gently sat your weight down.

He was down there for what felt like an eternity. You finally released into his mouth you moaned as he lapped your juices.

They climb off of him and sit up as you wipe his face. He looks at the chat and it was very obvious what they were saying.

'Fuck her already!!'

'Ruin that pussy!!'

Miguel chuckled deeply as his hand rested on your thigh. He was about to oblige but then he saw your face. That beautiful face screamed 'fuck me.' You stared at him your hand trailing to his cock. You wanted to fuck him. No cameras. no mask. You wanted him to leave you a moaning mess. The chat is still raving telling him to fuck you, but his attention was so caught on you he didn't even care.

═════════ ⋆★⋆═════════

Scene fo- CUT THE CAMERAS?! 🎬

"Ah- S-slow down-!" You moaned.

Miguel did just what you wanted he cut off the camera, and went directly to fuck you.

His pace was fast and deep as your nails penetrate the pillow. His hands held your hips as he pushed himself as deep as he could go. His teeth sunk into your skin causing a sharp feeling on your shoulder. You felt him lick the spot he bit. He drew blood, and it was obvious. If his mouth wasn't kissing sucking or biting you he was spewing out praises and compliments that made your heart flutter.

"Mami, you feel so good." He said as his brutal pace never once stopped.

You felt him pull out and wonder why he did.

"Why did you p-" Before you could finish he had flipped you over legs held open.

"Need to see your face." He said. His eyes looked like an animal ready to devour its prey.

He pushes himself back into you slowly. Even though you just took him inside moments ago your body could never get used to how big he was. His hands hold your legs open as he pounds into you at that brutal pace again. Your back is arching off of the bed as he practically punishes your pussy. All you could hear was his grunts and praise and you moaned. The sound of your body and his connecting every time he thrust into you was drowned out by your moans.

"S-slow down Miguel-!" You stuttered out between moans.

"You're all fucking mine. All mine and you feel so fuckin' good." He practically growled.

You felt that familiar knot in your stomach. The one that told you that you were at your limit. You babble senseless telling Miguel your about to cum.

"Cum for me, Mi amor." He breathed out between his brutal attacks on your poor pussy.

That's all he had to say as your body reaches that euphoric state that Miguel always managed to make your body climb to. He continued to fuck you through that heaven-sent feeling. You continue to babble senseless as you came on his dick. His pace started to get sloppy and the harsh pace and rhythm he had was disappearing. He was about to cum. You were tightening around from you orgasm and it was too much for him to bare.

"You want me to fill you up? Fill up that pretty pussy? Hmm?" He questioned.

"Yes-!" You slurred out too drunk on his dick to say anything other than yes.

You felt his warm seed fill your body. He groans his grip around your waist tightening. He didn't pull out he just laid on your chest.

"I can't do any more streams with you or they're all going to end early." He mumbled.

You let out a exhausted laugh and run your fingers through his hair.

"We'll see about that."

═════════ ⋆★⋆═════════

Credits 🎥

✰ Starring ✰ Miguel O'Hara and you

A/N ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I felt like doing something different. This was fun to write. It's kinda short but I wanted to post something because I've been too lazy to post. I hope yall enjoyed this. To be honest it could be better, but it's super late and I'm tired.

✰ Masterlist ✰

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literaila · 3 months

Text

the brunch

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru does not get jealous, just so everyone knows

a/n: (that previous statement was a lie) the brainrot is real

last part | next part

year four.

it’s a bit unusual for the house to be this filled, especially this early in the morning.

chatter echoes throughout the space, loud exclamations, and secret whispers, all making up a terrible-sounding symphony.

megumi and tsumiki are playing some elaborate board game with onlookers on the coffee table, both of them smiling proudly.

satoru is trying to tidy up the many different plates and cups everyone's left lying around, laughing when shoko rolls her eyes at something he's just said.

and you're in the kitchen, talking with nanami like you haven't seen him in several years--it's been three weeks.

it's very strange for the four of you. to let anyone--not to mention a dozen people--intrude on your carefully planned out saturday mornings. to invite others into your world of burnt breakfasts and uncombed bedhead.

but here you all are, managing.

and you’d reminded satoru probably seventeen times—too many times, he thinks, with far too many knowing glances—that hosting was not something to be taken lightly (and that you weren’t going to help him ((both of you know that you are)).

but he doesn’t mind this.

the crowded house, or the many different phone calls he had to make about getting this party (which he swore wasn’t one) set up. the loud sounds or the inevitable cleanup he'll try to swindle his way out of.

it’s quite nice. actually, satoru is a little proud of his makeshift brunch, and the fact that everyone came, and everyone seems happy. he likes that he can barely hear his thoughts, that there's nothing important enough for him to think about anyway.

and honestly, with all of it going on, satoru should not be this discontented with the fact that you’re smiling at someone else.

he invited nanami because he knows that you miss him and that you’re too embarrassed to admit that. or too proud, maybe. too forgiving. and he knows that you wouldn’t have done it yourself, had he not gotten involved.

but still. should satoru really have to sit back and watch as you fawn over a man who wore a suit to casual brunch?

no, he should not, thank you.

"what's wrong with your face?" shoko asks him after the silence has drawn on for too long, sounding very uninterested.

satoru shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. "what?"

"you've got a weird look."

"no, i don't."

"it's like that time that you chugged the entire carton of expired milk someone left in the fridge."

"don't remind me," he says, trying to put on a theatrical wince, but he just ends up looking back at you, with a blank face.

there is no time for joking, or flamboyancy, or caring about anything else in the world.

shoko does the same, her eyes trailing where his are, watching as you tilt your head at nanami, laughing when he murmurs something.

in typical nanami fashion, his lips only twitch a little bit, but it's enough to tell that he's amused by whatever conversation you're having.

that he's got your full attention, and he gets to watch your eyes as they shift from one glance to another and--

shoko nods, looking back to satoru, who is trapped in his stare. chained down at the mere thought of you. "oh," she says, rolling her eyes.

satoru doesn't look away, but grunts in the form of a question.

"you're an idiot, you know that?"

he frowns. "what?"

her eyes are exasperated, and her smile is all-knowing. she has always alluded satoru, and his very short attention span. and he kind of hates her, at this moment, for distracting him.

"seriously," she scoffs at his perturbed face, "after a whole year of living basically in the same room, i thought that the two of you would finally get over it."

"who?" satoru asks, smiling confusedly. "get over what?"

"you. get over yourself. honestly, only you and y/n would raise two kids together and pretend like there's no intimacy in it."

"what?"' satoru repeats, dumbly.

"and, by the way," shoko tells him, sipping on her drink. "jealousy is not cute."

and then she walks away, like she's answered a single one of satoru's questions.

and he frowns, thinking about it.

because--no, there's no way she was talking about him--he shakes his head. where would she even have gotten that idea? there's--

no.

and it’s—it’s not jealousy. he laughs off that thought.

satoru gojo is the strongest. he's the one everyone looks to. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

and besides satoru knows that you don’t get enough time away from your discombobulated family. that your life revolves around them, and they around you.

and the two of you have talked—at length—about the fact that you’re both young, and neither of you should live the lifestyle of some middle-aged parents, with no way to connect with the people in your age group. the people that would’ve been your family, in some alternate universe.

satoru knows that you don’t carve out the things that you need without being asked to, that you get anxious about these types of occasions--he's watched it happen before, when you were forced into a corner at one exchange event the two of you shared, or when yaga took you all out to dinner, and you'd shrink yourself in your seat until someone noticed.

he's seen you try to make yourself smaller at the convenience of others, and as he's grown (he almost winces at the thought) satoru has sworn to himself that he'd keep you from any situation where that might be necessary.

so he shouldn’t--he doesn't--mind that you’re having a good time. he should be--is--happy with himself, for setting it up so you could, for planning it around you, and the kids. he should be preparing himself to gloat in your face about the fact that he thought of this, and he set it up all on his own.

god. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

but that doesn't change the fact that satoru can't really see beyond you, ten feet away from him, laughing at something that nanami said.

and maybe it's not the fact that you're talking to him, or that you're smiling at him like satoru wants to be smiled at, he thinks, but more that you don't act that way with him.

satoru is well aware of the grounds in your relationship, and he knows that you spend most of your days rolling your eyes at the obnoxious things that he says, trying to protect the children--and him--from the antics that you've all grown used to.

he's not jealous, but maybe he's a little bit annoyed that he hasn't seen you this easy, and light since you were still in school. since you were still younger than him, and still someone he could look down upon.

you cling to nanami like satoru clings to you, he realizes, sullenly. you smile and tease--if just the way your eyes crinkle means anything.

you grin at nanami like you're trying to irritate him. like you're the reckless one between the two.

and maybe it hurts satoru more just to know that you are the reckless one.

he'd lived with the two of you for three years. he'd experienced nanami's typical brooding--which, now, reminds him a lot of megumi, actually--and the way he'd think through everything. maybe a little bit too much, even.

satoru was always there to watch you giggle alongside the austere man, pull him out of whatever thought process was darkening the mood, and remind him that none of it was all that serious.

satoru knows--he knows--that you and him are similar. he knows that it's why he feels the way he does with you. that the way the two of you dance around your emotions, and say nothing that you truly mean is something to cherish, if also something to despise.

he's not jealous, but maybe it hurts satoru because he knows that you've never been able to truly not care, with him. that he takes up all of the ignorance one household can get, even without meaning to.

or maybe it's just been a long time since he got the chance to watch you interact with anyone else.

maybe he's just ridiculous, and he should go do something else before he thinks about this for too long. shoko is wrong, though, he thinks. he's definitely not jealous.

he's satoru gojo. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

but he's still watching when you shake your head at something nanami says, tapping him on the shoulder and excusing yourself while waving him on, still light and airy, eyes meeting satoru's with that same grin.

it's probably worse to know that it doesn't quite belong to him. that he's not the sole benefactor of it all.

"hey," you say, bumping into him on purpose when you come over, your hands wrapping around his forearm as you lean on him. "need help?"

"nah, i've got it," he finally looks away. he doesn't want to watch this.

but you're still grinning at him, trying to catch his eye--even with the sunglasses. "you're all alone over here," you coo, "i can help you clean up."

satoru snorts. "i thought you weren't going to help with anything."

"well, since i'm already here..." you drawl, beginning to pick up spare utensils, and napkins. all of the things he'd been too distracted to do.

you're humming as you do it, completely content with everything.

satoru tries not to grind his teeth at the fact that your mood is not because of him.

"how's nanami?" he asks, unprecendented, after a moment.

you shrug. "he's good. i guess the real world sucks too," you say it with a lilt, like there's an inside joke that satoru is missing.

he shakes his head, trying to keep his words civil. "the real world?"

"the corporate universe, and laws of reality, or whatever," you roll your eyes, and you sound exactly like him. "no curses or magic to liven things up."

"no monsters, you mean."

"or that," you smile at him, looking almost giddy.

satoru hums.

you put all of the trash you've collected on a serving dish, piling things up without a care in the world. and then you turn towards satoru, and he can feel your slight frown before he can see it. "you okay?" you ask him.

satoru freezes. "what?"

"is it getting to you? the brunch?"

"what? no, i'm fine," he tries to look at you like you're ridiculous, but his face feels stiff, and wrong, and far too happy for you.

"you look like your tongue is too big to fit in your mouth."

he sticks his tongue out, almost on command. "does it look any different?"

"hmm," you pretend to observe. "yeah. might want to see a doctor about it."

"noted."

"are you trying not to laugh at something? you can tell me if i have something on my face, you know."

satoru's smile is a bit easier at that, but he shakes his head anyway. he kind of wants to run away to his room--something he's learned from raising two children. "no, i'm just thinking."

you raise a brow.

satoru scowls. "what? you didn't think it was possible?"

"no, not really."

he shakes his head. he tries to turn away, scoffing like it's a joke (it's not), but your hand reaches for his bicep before he can.

"hey," you say to him. he turns back to you, and your smile, nose scrunched up as you lean in. "how are you?"

"busy. i have to go make sure there's enough ice in that bucket."

"i'll come with you," you say, even though you both know that he's lying.

"no. i'm sure nanami has more he wants to talk with you about."

"is that what this is about? nanami? are you mad at him, or something?"

"why would i be mad at him?"

"i don't know, satoru, your brain is a confusing thing," you tug on his hair just a little bit. "hey, c'mon. why're you upset?"

"i'm not upset."

satoru should be basking in your attention, but he can't quite bring himself to notice it. or that you spend every day with him--mostly without complaint--and never fail to laugh at something he says.

no, his thoughts are not very organized, at the moment.

"you've got your little angry pout on," you nudge his lips with a finger. "i think you've been spending too much time with megumi."

he grabs your hand, trying not to squeeze. "i'm fine. go hang out. you're not supposed to be helping me."

this time, you pout. "you don't want to spend time with me?"

he groans, throwing his head back. "i'm trying to be nice," he tells you. "you know, like how you're always telling me to?"

"ew," you say, giggling a little bit. "i don't like it."

he rolls his eyes.

"seriously, come hang out with me and the kids. we can beat them at charades, or something, again. you need a little pep in your step."

"what are you, my mom?" he deadpans but feels his heart twitch a little bit because you're still holding onto him.

"might as well be. take a break, satoru, i miss you."

you say it so easily and nonchalantly that satoru wants to pick you up and lock you in a little box, just so you can never talk to anyone but him again.

he stares at you, blinking beneath his glasses, feeling like you're doing all of this just to mess with him.

honestly, whiplash is a serious condition.

you smile at him, fluttering your eyelashes unknowingly, pouting at him a little bit, even through the smile.

and satoru's never been able to say no to you, so he lets you pull him with you, back to the kitchen, where you grab nanami too--to the dismay of satoru, of course. he tries not to glare.

and satoru chooses to ignore the discerning look that nanami sends him, and the fact that his arm tightens around your waist as you drag the two men along.

he's not jealous. god, it's just very loud in here.

somewhere several minutes earlier, when the two of you were standing just a little bit too close to each other, both of you pouting, looking like two children fighting over a toy--you had a couple of spectators.

shoko scoffs, shaking her head. "that's disgusting."

you're on your tiptoes, head tilted as you purr something to satoru. they can't see his eyes from twenty feet away, but they can all tell that they're stuck on you. glued, never to be torn away.

megumi looks at the woman, then follows her eyes to the two of you, blank-faced.

tsumiki giggles.

"we know," they both say, rolling their eyes.

next part | series masterlist

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thisissirius · 2 months

Note

Do you think they're gonna fight?

hmmmmm

it might go something like this

"What is your problem?"

The words ring through the weird echo in Buck's kitchen. Eddie's furious, the lines of his body tense, holding himself apart from Buck.

Which shouldn't be as life-changing as it feels.

"Eddie," Buck says, fingers tight around the counter. "I thought you were out with Tommy."

"I was," Eddie says slowly, and there's confusion in the way he stares at Buck, a little betrayed, a little hurt. "You said you were busy tonight, but then Maddie sent a text. You told her we were going out?"

Fuck.

Buck shrugs, sliding his beer bottle off the counter. "Does it matter?"

"You're lying to your sister, to me, and you're asking if it matters?"

It's not lying. It's preservation. Buck can't—can't do this. "You were having fun, I was having fun," as if, "everything is fine."

Eddie watches him as he crosses the kitchen, cradling the beer bottle in his hands. Buck wants him to leave, to let him have this, whatever it is, in private. "You don't lie to me."

"Yeah well, people change," Buck mutters, because the hurt lances through him. Eddie and Tommy, getting on better, their relationship so effortless when Buck was jealous and angry and, and, and. "Tommy's—"

"I don't care about Tommy right now," Eddie says, coming to stand on the other side of the counter. "I care about you and whatever you have going on! it's not like you, Buck, and you can talk to me, you know you can."

Buck opens his mouth, closes it. "Not this. Not this."

There's definitely hurt in Eddie's expression, but he turns before Buck gets a good look. "Aren't we," Eddie starts, cuts off. His shoulders fall, sag a little. "Alright, Buck. Just—there's nothing you can tell me that I wouldn't—"

"Eddie," Buck whispers. He always thought it would be some furious thing, angry and heavy with emotion. Instead, he feels desperate, knows that if Eddie leaves like this, tension and hurt between them, it won't matter anymore.

"I think I might be bisexual!"

The words fall faster than he can stop them. It settles like lead in his stomach and he takes an involuntary step backwards.

Eddie turns, his eyes widening a fraction, his mouth closing. He stares.

The stretch is long enough that Buck starts to panic, feels something claw at his chest and it's tight, so tight, he definitely need to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

"Why would that," Eddie starts, cutting himself off.

Eddie's not stupid, of course he's not, but Buck hopes, begs, that he thinks it's Tommy, that Buck's like this because—

"Buck," Eddie says.

Shit. "Eddie, I don't—"

"Look at me." Eddie's words are soft, so soft. Buck wants to look up but he can't, he can't. Not if he wants to keep breathing or standing or doing anything that isn't collapsing because this is Eddie and he's, he's, everything.

Feet move into his periphery, fingers curling around his bicep.

"Buck," Eddie says again, this time firmer. "Buddy, look at me."

Like he's moving through mud, chest still tight, body warm, Buck is helpless to do anything but look up. Eddie looks the same way he always does. Buck isn't sure what that means; aren't things supposed to change? To shift beyond comprehension?

"Me?"

The word shouldn't be so life-changing. It's two letters, but it feels like so much more as Buck stares at his best friend. He wants to say yes, wants to run, but whatever Eddie sees in his face must say everything he can't.

"Shit." Eddie's fingers rest against Buck's collar, and he tips his head forward. Their foreheads touch and Buck doesn't know what to say, what to do. "Your timing, man."

Buck swallows. "I didn't know, not really. Not until—"

"Tommy," Eddie says. "Did you think—?"

"It seemed so easy, you and him," Buck starts.

"It is," Eddie agrees, shaking Buck a little. "But that doesn't mean anything against you. How could it? How could anyone come close to you?"

It's—Buck's fingers curl slowly around Eddie's waist, hooking in his jacket. "I'm sorry," he says, "about the lying, about not telling you. I couldn't, I didn't want to ruin anything."

"I know." Eddie sighs, pulling back, but his hand stays on Buck's collarbone, thumb rubbing against the exposed skin. "I'm so proud of you for saying it."

Something loosens in Buck's shoulders. "Thanks."

"But," Eddie says, and the lead is back, molten and hot in Buck's stomach. "I can't—Marisol and Chris," Eddie starts. "I need to speak to them and I can't, I need—"

The words trail off into silence.

Buck stares at Eddie, at the stricken expression, the concern. "I'm not going anywhere."

A smile curves Eddie's face and god, how could Buck have thought he'd be okay with this losing this? With letting Eddie go and being alone?

"It doesn't have to be now," Buck says, finding himself back on familiar ground. "You're the forever kind of guy, Eddie."

Eddie looks gut-punched, and his fingers flex against Buck's collarbone, tugs him forward by his shirt. A kiss brushes against Buck's temple, and Eddie drags him into a hug. "You're something else, Evan."

The hug is warm, tight, and Buck clings to the back of Eddie's jacket. He feels wrung out, worn and used, and he buries his face in Eddie's neck. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up," Eddie says gently. "It's not an easy thing to say."

Buck doesn't ask what about you or why did you come here or you make me so fucking happy.

Eddie doesn't say I don't know or I'll always come for you or you're the forever kind of guy, too.

Eventually, they will.

For now, it's enough.

or something :)

#911 spoilers #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #fic by me

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st4rgzer · 5 months

Text

WHEN I NEED YOU matt sturniolo

summary: when things get too much, Matt is there for you when you most need it.

genre: angst and fluff

cw!: problems with food, anxiety, panic attack

a/n: requested!!

Matt was there when I needed him the most, that is why I love him.

I stared at the blank ceiling above me, surrounded by the tiles of the bathroom floor, which were cold on my legs, uncomfortably cold.

I clutched my phone as I was curled in a fetal position, scrolling down more comments, my heart clenching every time I saw any “somewhat” negative comment, I hate my sensibility, it’s not anybody’s fault, just mine.

I debated calling anyone, Matt explicitly told me to call him every time I felt down, any time I felt like I needed him. It became a habit to call him up when my mind felt crowded. But I felt like now wasn’t the time, I didn’t deserve to be comforted.

Short breaths started leaving my mouth, rapidly increasing their pace. Hot tears kept rolling down my cheeks, as sobs echoed through the empty bathroom. My hand fell onto my face in frustration, as I continued to fail at slowing my breathing, trying to reject the start of a panic I knew was coming, ones that weren’t rare, nevertheless, I hadn’t had one in months, I felt guilty about losing me streak, about failing myself and the people I promised i’d get better to.

My chest rose and fell, again and again, I clutched it in an attempt to get a hold of myself. I clumsily scrolled through my contacts and clicked on Matt’s, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Matt? Matt, are you there?” My voice broke almost immediately, covering my mouth to prevent another sob, to prevent him from knowing.

“Yes, baby, I’m here, what’s?- are you okay? are you crying” His tone instantly changed as soon as he put the puzzle pieces together in his mind. I could hear him grab the keys, ushering away from his brothers swiftly, as the door squeaked open.

“no, i- yes, yes, but nothings wrong, i’m not going to do anything stupid, I just needed to hear your voice” I managed to blurt out, my voice shaky as I tried to explain the situation to him, he could tell I was lying.

“okay baby, just stay on the line with me, tell me about what you did today, okay?” He consoled me. His car door clicked, I heard him start the engine, even though I didn’t want him to come, I know i needed him to do so.

“I- well, I had lunch with my friend, we went to a new diner near mine” The words came out of my mouth clumsily, trying to focus on forming sentences, helping my mind to distract itself and slowly, helping my breathing to fall back into rhythm.

“that’s great honey, what did you eat?” I could tell by his voice he was trying to sound relax, but I knew he was terrified, by the slight shake in his words, the fear of that, when he stopped talking, I wouldn’t respond.

“I ate- um, I ate pasta, butter pasta with shrimp, I didn’t get the alfredo cause I felt bad you couldn’t eat it with me” I sniffed, laughing slightly, the tears and the strain in my chest slowly stopping.

He laughed along with me, as if he wasn’t fucking terrified that when he came to mine, his favourite person wouldn’t be there. Still, he felt a tiny bit better hearing my laugh.

“that’s great, did you get any dessert?”

I remembered feeling guilty, I remembered that’s when this started. My friend got a salad, and she didn’t have any dessert, yet I picked a brownie. She stared at me, I could tell she was judging me, belittling me in her head. I felt sick all of the sudden, and a knot in my throat, the same one I felt when my mother asked if “that’s what you’re having? i could never.” The same knot I felt when the other kids got picked before me.

Matt felt a shift in my mood, a sudden pause and silence that indicated I was caught back into the trance.

“fuck” Matt muttered under his breath, cursing to himself for not being more aware of what he was saying. Luckily, he’d finally pulled up to my house, and parked in the driveway, practically running towards my door and pulling out the spare key I gave him for emergencies like these, well, not like these , but nonetheless, important.

I heard his footsteps stomp up my stairs, getting louder as he reached my bedroom, opening the door and looking around.

“y/n? y/n, where are you baby?” he spoke softly, trying not to startle me any more.

He peeked into the bathroom, I saw his face drop and soften as he saw me curled up on the bathroom floor with wet cheeks and frazzled hair. He’d always promised himself to take care of me, to hold me like nobody’s ever done before, to love me as if it were breathing, so it physically pained him to see me in such state.

He kneeled down and reached out to cradle me. I held onto him like my life depended on it, sobbing into his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut as the sounds he always dreaded the most left my mouth.

He did the only thing he knew I needed in that moment. To hold me, to hold me so close and dearly, until his heartbeat and our slow breaths were the only thing that could be heard through these four walls.

So he did. Until my crying ceased, until my heart didn’t ache anymore, until I fell asleep in his arms.

“I love you, so much” He whispered and kissed my forehead softly, running his fingers through my hair.

He picked me up and placed me on the bed, tucking me in, and laying right next to me, where I could feel him there, so I knew I wasn’t alone.

He sighed and kissed the top of my head, wrapping his arms around me, guarding me, gently, how I needed to be held.

taglist: @dwntwn-strnlo @iha8you @stvrni0lo @gabbylovesreading @lovelysturniolo @ssturniolo @strniolo @sturniolol @eyelessdemon

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo image #matt sturniolo fluff

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shorthaltsjester · 10 days

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there is something so, so devastating to me about imogen having spent the past weeks utilizing how much like her mother she appears to be as a way for the hells to gain intel and slip past different situations but how significantly her like . relvin vibes have increased in the past couple episodes. and of course we only have the one interaction with him but the temult dynamic is one of the ones that spins my brain around in knots. there is something very juicy to me about an imogen who can’t escape her mother’s fate because she looks like her spitting image and has her same powers and who can’t escape her father’s fate because she’s also powerless watching the woman she loves disappear.

like relvin in that visit is of course walled off and he’s decades down the road of having seen the woman he loves disappear into the unknown of her powers and what we got of his response to liliana and the idea of helping imogen save her wasn’t unlike imogen’s recent response to laudna. his comment that he always figured that liliana would realize gelvaan wasn’t the place for her, he just also hoped they’d go together when she left is like the domestic small town mirror of imogen’s illogical but real griefguilt about leaving laudna alone by fighting against predathos. i mean relvin specifically brings up that he doesn’t know if liliana was lying to him the whole time about her powers or if she didn’t know either, “it’s a lot to take in at once. you think you know someone, there’s a whole part of their life that they just been keeping secret from you. i was angry. i’m still angry. but you know, a little part of me wants to believe she was just doing it to protect you.“ a sentiment echoed by imogen’s responses to laudna the past few episodes.

and at the end of that gelvaan visit, relvin speaking up enough to tell imogen to “tell her…” but not having anything to say. because liliana made her choice and he knows his words didn’t mean anything before. imogen just watching as laudna shoves a dagger into her own chest, imogen telling her “i’ll always love you, laudna. i just don’t know what to do with it.”

god, in general, imogen who grew up knowing that love isn’t enough. that love is important and it’s a lot, but not enough. relvin and imogen standing with a chasm of grief and a silver locket between them and “i never want you to be afraid of me, daddy” “me neither.” and laudna’s “i don’t like people being mad at me.” and imogen’s “i know.”

because imogen is her father’s daughter. like absolutely with anger at him and complexity in that relationship but silly little cowboy jokes aside, the values imogen expresses are ones that — when not ones born of her experiences with her powers — seem very much contextualized by her upbringing. i mean the ideal life that she dreamt of and dismissed with laudna someday when the apocalypse is over is a small cottage with some horses. relvin lives in a farmhouse furnished for one.

i’ve talked before about how For Me the most fruitful lens for viewing imogen’s story is one of generational trauma, and i think the reasons for that re: liliana are obvious. but i also think that being raised by someone who isn’t privy to the intricacies of whatever haunts their spouse enough that it’s been passed down is another sort of fucked up legacy and i am truly delighted/sorrowed by how messily and interestingly imogen sits at the intersection of these dual temult legacies; one of leaving and one of being left.

#imogen temult #relvin temult #liliana temult #laudna #imogen + laudna #the temults #cr3 #cr spoilers #critical role #very slowly tryin to put together a webweave about this but . god laura will make characters with the most interesting family dynamics #and matt will run wild with them and i am left to witness and lose my marbles about it

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ryuryuryuyurboat · 4 months

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8 letters, 3 words!

synopsis: confessions are tricky.

genre: fluff

characters: lyney x gn! reader

warnings: modern (college) au, reader is referred to in 2nd person, navia + lynette cameo

a/n: hehe hi @ariicandy! i'm your secret admirer for @ecrin-de-litterature's kiss don't tell event :> hope you like this gift hehe happy valentine's!! likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

masterlist

“oh my, y/n, you really do have expensive taste.” navia grins at you from across the table. “did you win the lottery, or something?”

you huff. “no, i found them on my table.” the second you open the lid of the (previously) beautifully decorated tin box, the sweet fragrance of macarons wafts into your nostrils— you almost miss the way your friend’s jaw drops as she openly gapes at the treats.

“what?”

“you… er, well, do you know what those are?” navia gleefully looks between you and the macarons.

there’s a soft clink as lynette sets down her teacup. “5 bucks they have no clue,” she bets, earning a soft “tsk” from you and a smug navia crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair.

“of course i do! they’re macarons! hey–” you protest, as navia dissolves into giggles and lynette sighs, “hey– listen, listen, i may have flunked midterms but that doesn’t mean i—stop laughing!—that doesn’t mean i don’t know a sweet treat when i see one, okay!”

lynette leans forward, an odd glint in her eyes. “these aren’t your ordinary macarons, you know. there’s only one bakery that sells them like this, and people queue for hours just so they can get their hands on one of these– they only sell eleven boxes each day, mind you. it’s like you’re saying your louis vuitton is just some random bag you picked off the streets. a single box can quite literally cost you the skin of your a–”

you cut her off. “i think we know what you mean, just take some if you wanna try ‘em, okay?”

“still, who’d gift you something so expensive?” navia muses, chewing on the lemon macaron she’d nicked while you weren’t looking.

“probably the same mystery guy who gave me that plushie bouquet the other day, and then those chocolates from yesterday, and also probably that box of pâte de fruits…” you hum in thought, utterly oblivious to your friends’ astounded gazes.

“...y/n, i think you might have a secret admirer.”

“wha– hey, wait! what was with that tone when you said ‘who’d give me something that pricey’? you tryna say i’m not worth those?!?”

laughter echoes across the empty cafeteria as you lunge at navia and screech something about wanting her to return the macaron. none of you notice the pair of periwinkle eyes fixed on your figure from afar.

—

“ooooh, does someone have a secret admirer~?” navia peeks over your shoulder at the white envelope lying innocently on your desk. “y’know,” she continues, unfazed by your side-eye, “if it’s the same guy that got you those macarons, maybe you should consider getting–”

“shut up,” you grumble, feeling your ears heat up, “i don’t even know who gave me all these.”

“do people not normally sign their names somewhere?”

“just the initials.” you unfold the enclosed paper, pointing to the very bottom, where the letters LS were printed. “who’s that supposed to be? lonely spirit?”

you don’t see a certain someone’s eyes dim when you don’t bother reading the letter and shove the envelope into your bag.

—

13 february. 7 days since you started receiving letters. 7 days since you got your first plushie bouquet (how the sender knew your favourite blooms and even your favourite character was a mystery you had yet to solve). and 1 day before valentine’s.

the letter you got today was way simpler than the flowery words that filled the pages from before:

3 boxes, 8 letters. think you’ll be able to figure it out, ma chérie? that’s the key to your last gift.

(hint: the way each letter starts is important. good luck♡)

“the way each letter starts?” lynette shrugs, “no idea. probably something like the first letter of the first word.”

“lynette,” you begin, “you’re a genius!”

one problem, though. you only received 5 letters. oh, well, didn’t hurt to try, right?

“let’s see…” you lay out the letters on the table, trying hard to ignore the contents that made you blush so furiously in the safety of your bedroom. “u, l, v, o, i, e…” you mutter, before navia gives you a light shove.

“no way it’s taking you so long, isn’t it already so obvious?”

“???”

“rearrange the letters—where’s my pen— and what do you get?”

you stare mutely at the letters. “...i love u.” you read, before you’re hit with a realisation.

“wait– boxes are containers, and then words are like containers for letters– and then, and then… and then i love you makes up eight letters in three letters! i’m a genius!”

“if you’re such a genius, you should’ve noticed a certain someone staring at you.” lynette nods at a point behind you, “go get your man, y/n. i don’t wanna hear complaints about being single for valentine’s.”

you turn– and there stood lyney snezhevich, in all his glory, a bouquet in his hand. he offers you an apprehensive smile as he extends his arms for you to accept the flowers—your final gift— and averts his eyes.

“seems you’ve managed to crack the code, ma chérie. now, then, if you hadn’t known from the letters… will you be my valentine?”

taglist: @yinyinggie @lynyluvr @kazemiya @meidnightrain @thexianzhoujade @dailypenpen (send ask to be added to taglist!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

#astronetwrk #— kiss (don’t tell) !#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #lyney x reader #lyney fluff #lyney #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin #genshin impact #༄the vessel’s voyages #scrolls of yore✒️ᝰ #resplendent ports⋆⑅˚₊ ༘⋆#january ebg'24 ⋆⑅˚₊ ༘⋆

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ossifer-bones · 7 months

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the paul poll compelled me to just quickly write up my little opinion piece on paul and necromancy in the tlt verse bcs tags are a pain in the ass to elaborate on my opinion in: paul horrifies me. i think that a lot of people read palamedes' interpretation of lyctorhood as being some sort of objective truth and that there is a right way to do lyctorhood and paul is it, but i just don't agree with that; i think in a series rife with unreliable narrators, palamedes' views on lyctorhood should be considered as subjective as any other person's.

“Can one person even be two people? I feel like I’ve only got enough room inside for me, and sometimes like that room’s not even enough.” “Lyctors can,” said Palamedes, “or at least—they thought they could; in fact all they became were half-dead cannibals. I think a true Lyctorhood is a mutual death … a gravitational singularity creating something new. A true Grand Lysis, rather than the Petty Lysis of the megatheorem [...]

what he says here about lysis is in response to nona asking if one person can be two people, and thus it is a very loaded statement when coming from someone heralding from a society where the extreme co-dependence of the fundamentally unequal necro/cav bond is encouraged, especially considering camilla and palamedes are called out by others from that same society as being an exemplary case of co-dependence in that department!

camilla and palamedes are arguably more equal than any other cav/necro pair in series, in part due to that co-dependence, but we even see in NtN that cam does stuff that undercuts that equality (telling pyrrha to lie to palamedes, 'don't tell him i was weak'). and that equality, that love, is shown to be thought of as coming at the cost of freedom: when palamedes says, “I cannot bear the thought of using you.”—camilla responds, “Love and freedom don’t coexist, Warden.”

in the end, every permutation of the necro and cav pairing is irrevocably descended from john + alecto's example and while i think beauty can be found in some of them, they all suffer from the same fundamental imbalance that bond hinges on; nonconformity abates it, but abolishment is required for real freedom from it. the so-called indelible sin of lyctorhood is just an echo of the original sin john committed.

If there was one thing Gideon knew about necromancers, it was that they needed power. Thanergy—death juice—was abundant wherever things had died or were dying. Deep space was a necro’s nightmare, because nothing had ever been alive out there, so there were no big puddles of death lying around for Harrow and her ilk to suck up with a straw.

necromancy necessitates consumption, taking by its very nature: death, especially violent death, is what fuels it—infants producing more thanergy on death is literally a noted phenomena! paul's birth, while it could be seen as triumphant in the sense of it being an act of creation, is literally identified by palamedes himself as a mutual death, death being required to fuel it the same as any other necromantic working. i don't want to say 'necromancy is fundamentally evil' but uh... it is irrevocably tied into john's conception of human nature: "This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take."

something i always point out about camilla and palamedes' grand lysis is theparallel with gideon and harrow's incomplete petty lysis: both come about as a result of a fully-realised lyctor (ianthe, cytherea) having cornered the pair, resulting in both being threatened with imminent death (camilla critically injured and palamedes facing expulsion from naberius when ianthe re-emerges; harrow necromantically spent and gideon having suffered multiple injuries, both going to die when cytherea breaks through the bone dome). paul's birth only happened as a direct result of the continuation of the lyctoral cycle of violence, with ianthe in cytherea's position; per palamedes, “I am not saying this was our inevitable end … I am saying we have found the best and truest and kindest thing we can do in this moment.”

paul may be the best and truest and kindest thing cam and pal could've done in that moment, but that moment should've never came to pass: the codependency instilled into them through their society, the violence that put them in that position, and the consumptive necromancy that made paul possible. paul is horrifying because they are the most hopeful and kind thing, and they are the product of two people, one sans his own body, undergoing mutual death to fuel their birth.

they're the truest response to one flesh, one end: an oath purportedly coined by cristabel and alfred, who compelled their necromancers to ascend via a suicide pact.

valancy says one flesh one end sounds like instructions for a sex toy. can’t stop thinking about that so can someone stop cris and alfred before the sex toy phrase catches on, thanks.

did the sex toy phrase really need a response?

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers

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alessiasfreckles · 3 months

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14 leah plsss xoxoxo

the ways i love you - leah williamson x reader

14. A kiss to the stomach

warnings: negative body image

-------

You sighed, looking at yourself in the mirror. You had bought a new bikini for your holiday with Leah, wanting something cute to wear at the pool or on the beach.

You loved Leah with all your heart, but sometimes dating a professional footballer was hard. Especially when you were very much not a professional footballer and enjoyed chocolate a little more than you should. She was incredibly attractive, and her body was just amazing, but occasionally you'd catch yourself comparing your bodies, which you knew wasn't fair.

She would tell you that as well - that it was unfair and unrealistic to expect your body to look like that of a professional athlete, and that she loved the way your body looked, not just because it was gorgeous, stunning, sexy, but because it was your body.

Still, you'd catch yourself frowning when you saw your reflection, especially next to hers, and lately you'd been having to make an extremely conscious effort to not talk or think negatively about your body.

You turned, looking at yourself from the side in the mirror. You knew, logically, that most girls and afab people carried some fat on their stomach. That it wasn't anything unusual, or anything to be ashamed of. You poked your stomach with a grimace, watching it in the reflection.

Leah's voice echoed in your head, telling you how beautiful you were, and you rolled your eyes. As if she could read your mind, Leah poked her head around the bedroom door.

"Woah, look at you!" she said when she saw what you were wearing, whistling appreciatively. "Baby, you look fantastic! Is that a new bikini?"

You covered your stomach with your arms self-consciously, shrugging. "Yeah, I got it for our holiday. But I don't know, I might return it."

"What, why?" she asked, walking over to you and stopping a few feet away to look you up and down again. Her eyes lingered on your chest and legs, pausing at your arms covering your stomach.

You shrugged again. "I just, I feel too, I dunno, exposed? I don't think this is the right kind of thing for my body."

"I think it's exactly the right kind of thing for your body," Leah said firmly, then hesitated. "Can... Can I do something?"

You squinted at her suspiciously. "What?"

"Can you lie down on the bed for me? I just want to see if I can help make you feel better," she explained. When you raised an eyebrow her cheeks pinkened slightly. "Not sex! I mean, I'm happy to make you feel better that way, too, but that's not what I had in mind."

"Uh-huh," you said, smirking at her, but you got on the bed anyway, lying down.

"Can you close your eyes for me?" she asked. "If you want me to stop, just say, okay?"

You nodded, eyes closed, and felt Leah climb onto the bed, near your legs. You jumped when her hands brushed your calves and thighs, stroking them, massaging them.

"I love your legs," she started. "I love your legs because they're beautiful and they're yours, but I also love them because they're strong. They let you walk, run, swim. They're powerful. They help hold you up."

She placed kisses up and down each leg gently, the soft touch making your heart swell with love. Then she moved to your arms, straddling you to reach both easily. You grinned as she straddled you, and you could feel her laughing above you.

"This is not sexual, remember? Not yet at least," she said, and you could hear the smirk in her voice. She touched each arm, in a similar fashion to how she'd touched your legs, caressing them gently. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, your arms, and your hands. I love your arms. I love how soft your skin is, the dimple by your elbows. I love them because they let you hold my hand, they let you hug me, they let you do all sorts of things to me. Your arms are strong, like your legs, they're powerful and beautiful."

Your throat felt tight, like you were going to cry. Leah kissed your arms, making her way from your shoulders to your wrists.

"Your hands are so perfect. They fit in mine like we were made for each other, like two puzzle pieces linking together. Your hands do so many amazing things," she continued, and kissed each fingertip, then the palms of your hands.

You felt her body weight shift as she moved down, sitting on your thighs. You tensed as her hands came to rest on your stomach, aware of every movement she made, everywhere her hands touched.

"I love your stomach. I love how it looks, I love that it's soft, it's so beautiful and attractive. I love that if i touch it a certain way, like this, it makes your stomach feel like it's flipping and it makes you giggle," she said, brushing her hand over your stomach to prove her point, making you jump and smile when your stomach flipped. "I love that it lets you eat yummy food, that it makes so many noises at night when we're going to sleep, that one day our baby will be in there."

You felt a tear leak out of your closed eyes as she pressed kisses to your stomach, gently, as if she was worried about breaking you. Sniffling a little, you opened your eyes when you felt her move off you, coming closer to you.

"Oh, I didn't mean to make you cry," she said, wiping away your tears with the back of her hand.

"No, no, it's okay," you shook your head. "They're good tears."

"Oh, phew! I was worried," she smiled, stroking your cheek softly. "I love you. I love all of you, all of your body, all of your brain, so so much."

"I love you, too," you said, and she leant forward, kissing you, her lips soft against yours.

"And, I really do like this bikini," she said as she pulled back. She winked and reached down to the string on the side of the bikini, pulling it open. "It really does look amazing on you. But... I think it'd look even better off."

#hannah writes blurbs #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson blurb #leah williamson fluff #woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso fanfic #woso one shot #woso fluff #woso oneshot #woso blurb

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

Text

the day you kissed a writer in the dark // han lue (tokyo drift)

summary: she's stood by his side for years. his loyal mechanic, the brains behind his brawn. but she'd be lying if she said that it didn't hurt to watch him flirt with those other women in his club, when he came home to her every night in secret.

bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark, now she's gonna play and sing and lock you in her heart. i am my mother's child, i'll love you 'till my breathing stops.

pairing: han lue x mechanic! reader

warnings: smut, inappropriate use of a drifting car, insecurity and self-doubt, secret relationships, unplanned pregnancy.

author's note: here's something a little different today, lovelies! it's a departure from the usual realm of f1 content i usually bless you all with, but i felt like i needed to do something different to avoid burning myself out, and rewatching tokyo drift gave me the inspiration that i needed :)

she hated the club.

in the back end of her mind, she always resented the mere existence of that secret room leading to han's garage. the fact that he chose to surround himself with women in tight dresses with long legs and perky boobs like he was some kind of yakuza punk.

well, this wasn't crows fucking zero. this was real life.

she couldn't help but draw comparisons between these beautiful girls and herself. as she curled in on herself to duck through the crowd, she frowned at her reflection in the window: her torn up jeans, the grease stain on the cuff of her army-green sweater, the zip barely done up enough to cover up her double-d's, a small nut from her very first car hanging limply from a chain around her neck.

some days, she wondered why han had chosen her of all people.

"sean?" she asked quietly, poking the young american boy in the arm, practically shouting to be heard. "have you seen han?"

sean shook his head. "no, sorry. have you checked the garage?"

"i'm heading back there now. thanks, sean." she sighed, backing out the way that she came, trying not to think about all of the places that her boyfriend could be right now.

the anxiety ate away at her. was he with one of the other girls? one of the prettier, taller, thinner ones? was that why he wanted to keep the relationship under wraps?

was han ashamed of her?

she hurried down the rickety metal staircase, dropping her purse on the workbench as she went, subconsciously placing a hand over her stomach as she thought about the white plastic stick inside the fake leather bag.

they'd been sneaking around for a year, but they'd known each other far longer. she had come to tokyo when she was twenty-one, with a pocketful of cash and a monkey wrench. she had a high school diploma, but that didn't mean much to the rally teams she had applied to work on the pit crews for.

and that's when han swooped her up. when she became the bonnie to his clyde, the mechanic for his little street racing gambit.

that was three years ago. now she was almost twenty-five, he was twenty-seven, and he was in far too deep for them to keep going like this.

she knew why he had to keep it a secret. telling the world that she was his lover would put a target on her back. because that's what happens when you get in deep with someone like dk.

she pulled her hair back with the green rubber band on her wrist, pushing up her sleeves as she reached for a ratchet and approached han's car, the hood already open and ready for her.

working on the cars had always been her safe haven. her distraction from the outside world. fixing something that was broken gave her a satisfaction like no other.

"babe?" han's voice echoed through the garage, and she hated herself for the way that she froze up, fingers tightening around the ratchet. "sean said you were asking around for me? is everything okay?"

she withdrew from the car, slamming the hood down. "you're pushing the car too far. the engine is wearing down, you have to get something stronger. the serpentine belt is at it's brink."

"and that's why you're the brains of this operation and i'm just the pretty boy who drifts." han said playfully, wrapping his arms around her midsection as resting his chin on her shoulder.

"be more careful out there, seoul-oh." she said softly, placing a cold hand on top of his warm one before turning her head and kissing him softly. "i don't know what i'd do if anything ever happened to you."

han spun her body around gently, his hands on her waist as she jumped to perch her body on the edge of the hood, her fingers tangling in his dark, silky hair.

"you don't need to worry about me, sweetheart. i'm going to be okay."

she sighed, lacing her fingers together behind his neck. "where were you, han? wandering around your club with a girl on each arm? a girl that's three times prettier than i am, maybe one who's clothes are a little more revealing-"

"y/n, stop." han said firmly. "baby, you're the only one. my only one." he kissed her on the forehead softly. "i love you. i love you so much that it hurts. i wish i could shout it from the rooftops, but i can't put you in danger like that. i don't want dk to know, because that's a target on your back that i don't want there."

he pulled her as close as he could, arms wrapped securely around her as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. "i couldn't live with myself if anything ever happened to you."

the sincerity in the older man's voice was reassuring. but some days, it wasn't enough. she loved him more than words could say, but she was getting tired of being his little secret.

but at the end of the day, it was her bed that he always came home to. his arms she woke up in. his terrible singing in the kitchen while he made coffee with breakfast.

han lue was hers.

she kissed him again, still sitting on the edge of the toyota's hood. this kiss was stronger, harder. with more feeling as she bunched han's sweater up in her fingers, trying to wrestle it off his broad shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs tight enough to make her moan against his lips.

"seoul-oh." she mumbled as han broke away from her, pulling his sweater off the rest of the way before tugging his everlast t-shirt over his head.

they fit together like well-worn puzzle pieces, his lips finding that place on her neck that made her crumble, turned her legs to jelly as he slipped a hand up the front of her sweater, thumb tracing comforting shapes against her stomach as he nipped at her neck, biting down gently. there would be a hickey there in a mere matter of hours.

trailing kisses back up her neck, he gently bit her earlobe before placing one hand on the side of her face to guide her lips back to his, the other hand braced against the hood of the car to hold himself up. she bit down on his bottom lip, wrenching a growl from the back of han's throat.

he pulled away, dropping to his knees in front of the car as his large hands dipped under the waistband of her jeans. after reaching down to untie and kick off her beat up vans, she reached above her to grab the exposed beam in the garage ceiling, pulling her body up and allowing han to pull her jeans and panties down her legs in one fell swoop.

"oh, not on the car, baby. you'll stain the bodywork."

"don't care." han hummed, kissing the soft skin of her thigh. "i can't think of anything prettier than you. on the hood of my car, legs spread wide for me." he mumbled in between kisses, inching ever closer to where y/n needed him most, her arousal dripping onto the cool metal hood of the drift car.

and when his lips touched her throbbing clit, she could have sworn she turned electric, using one hand to brace herself against the car and burying the other in han's hair as she threw her head back in a throaty moan.

"han." she panted, grinding against his face as his tongue licked and sucked at her core. "oh, baby, yes."

han smiled to himself, kissing her clit gently as he held her thighs open with his hands. "still think that i don't find you attractive any more?"

"shut up, please. i need you so bad." she'd barely finished speaking when another low, seductive moan left her mouth. the arm that was holding her body up threatened to buckle underneath her as she tugged on han's hair, urging him to keep going.

han chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her body as her arm buckled, and she found herself lying against the hood, her head on the windscreen as she bucked her hips, searching for more as her lover tongue-fucked her, her legs thrown over his shoulders with reckless abandon.

"seoul-oh." she whined, clenching her thighs around han's head

"i know, baby." he mumbled softly, kissing her thigh. "you're doing so well darling. come for me."

and that's exactly what she did. with a moan so loud that she was shocked that the patrons of the club couldn't hear it echoing through the garage, she let go, her juices coating the lower half of han's face as he licked her clean before wiping off the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand.

"fuck." he mumbled, standing between her legs and leaning over the car to kiss her. "i can't get enough of you, baby. i think i'm gonna need more."

"oh yeah?" she smiled sitting up slightly, resting her weight on her elbows and raising an eyebrow when she saw the obvious hard-on struggling to break free from the confines of han lue's jeans. "and what do you think we should do about it?"

"back. room. now." he said, softly but firmly, kissing her in between each word as she wrapped her bare legs around his body, allowing han to pick her up and carry her over to the back room, where a double bed was piled high with blankets for the nights where they worked late, or drift races lasted until the mere hours of the morning.

or, nights where neither of them wanted to go home. han was sure that they had fucked on almost every available surface of the garage.

she undid her sweater slowly, revealing the lacy white bra underneath, the makeshift pendant on her necklace hanging delicately just above the hollow of her breasts as she cast the fabric aside, reaching up to snap the elastic band in her hair, letting it cascade in waves down her shoulders.

"you're beautiful, you know that?" he said softly, kneeling on the mattress as he rested one hand gently against her cheek.

she leaned into his touch, reaching up to wrap her slender fingers around his wrist, pressing a soft kiss to the heel of his hand.

she knew she should tell him. han needed to know.

but now was definitely not the time.

not that she could find the words while he kissed her neck, her chest, her stomach, his fingers dancing across her back as he fumbled with the clasp of her bra, erection straining against his jeans.

"han, babe." she mumbled, reaching behind her. "it's been a year now, you should know how to undo a bra, mr. womanizer." she joked, pushing his hands away as she pulled the bra off by herself.

"why would i need to know how to do it when you just take it off by yourself most of the time?" he grinned, standing up to unbuckle his belt.

he started to undo his jeans, pausing halfway as if he had forgotten something before he darted over to the rolling toolbox in the back of the room, pulling a small foil packet out of the top drawer.

fat lot of good a condom would do them now.

not when she was already carrying his baby inside of her.

her body trembled with anticipation as she watched han rid himself of his jeans, the echo of his belt buckle hitting the floor echoing around the room before he rolled the latex sheath onto his thick, hard cock.

god, she was a fool in love. han seoul-oh made her feel every range of emotions all at once.

"seoul-oh." she mumbled, lips against his as he clambered onto the bed, covering her body with his broad one.

"hm?" han mumbled, pressing kisses all over her face.

"i love you, han lue." she said firmly, gently pushing his face away so she could look him in the eyes. "i mean it, babe. you've ruined me for anybody else. you're it for me."

"good, because i don't think i could love anybody else if i tried." han breathed out, kissing her again, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance.

she squirmed under him, a small gasp escaping her lips before she bit down on her bottom lip.

she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg. that wasn't what tonight was for.

han knew this as well, gently pushing himself inside her. tonight was about more than just chasing a high. for both of them. it was about love, and reassurance, and intimacy.

she threaded her fingers through his hair, whining as han moved ever so slightly, the sensations they both felt sending shockwaves through their bodies.

"seoul-oh." she moaned softly. "please. god, you feel incredible."

"yeah?" han crooned, thrusting softly and barely holding back a moan of his own. "you look so pretty with my cock inside you, my sweet sweet girl."

"just like that." she whined as he thrusted again, bucking her hips into him, trying to take his length deeper. "keep doing that, fuck."

when han's nimble fingers came up grip and massage her right breast, she knew she was a goner, arching her back to drive her body into him with a moan as he kissed her chest.

"you like that, baby? yeah, you love having my hands all over you. and i love touching your beautiful body." han murmured, sucking a hickey onto her collarbone. he could feel himself unravelling, knew that the end was nigh as he moaned against her skin, blindly reaching for her hand.

there were no more slow thrusts as the driver began to pick up the pace, his lover's legs wrapped tightly around him as she moaned his name.

"oh god, han, baby. fuck, keep going." she panted, one hand trailing down her body to play with her clit. anything to get her closer to that release she craved as she whined and squirmed under han's touch.

she'd seen this film before, and she already knew the ending. and the start if the sequel.

"come for me, baby. i know you can take it, just give me one more, okay?"

"han, han, holy shit." she moaned, feeling the coil in her stomach finally snap, her high crashing over her like a wave.

her lover groaned above her, a guttural sound ripped straight from his throat before han gently pulled out of her sensitive body, the evidence of his own peak contained within the clear latex that he slid off his member, tying the condom off in a knot before punting it into the trash can next to his desk.

she pulled the blankets up as han settled in the bed next to her, his warm fingers dancing in gentle circles against her sweaty skin as they laid together in the afterglow, a content look on his face as he kissed her on the forehead.

"seoul-oh." she said quietly, twirling his long, dark locks of hair around her fingertip. "i have to tell you something."

"what's on your mind, pretty girl?" worry creased han seoul-oh's face, a pit forming in his stomach.

he hated seeing her like this.

"i'm pregnant."

han's eyes widened. "what? babe, why didn't you tell me?"

"i've been trying all day. but you've had your hands full with dk and sean and drifting." she said sadly. "but i can't raise this baby with dk breathing down our necks. you need to get out of this life, seoul-oh."

han frowned thoughtfully, one hand resting against the side of her face. "i'm going to be a father. fucking hell, babe this is incredible. i promise you, i'm going to make a plan, and i'm going to get us out of tokyo."

"you know we can't keep this a secret any longer, right? i'm already eight weeks along, once the first trimester ends, i won't be able to hide it."

"you're right, you're right. we'll test the waters. i'll tell sean and twinkie in the morning, see how the news of our relationship goes over with them. i want to keep it from dk until i can find a way to get us out of here."

y/n nodded, lacing her fingers with han's and placing his hand on her stomach. "okay. let's do this thing." she broke out into a smile. "we're going to be parents, han. can't you picture it? sitting behind the wheel of your toyota, with our little gremlin on your lap, teaching them how to drive before they can even walk."

han laughed. "they'll be born with a monkey wrench in one hand and a bag of lays in the other."

"i love you, seoul-oh." she said softly, kissing him gently. "i'm so glad i found you three years ago.

"i love you more, y/n. and i can't wait to raise this kid with you."

Tags (though im not sure if any of you are interested loll):

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh

#han lue x reader #fast and the furious #tokyo drift #fast and the furious x reader #han lue #han lue smut #fast and the furious smut #tokyo drift imagine

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