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improbable-outset · 3 months

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📄 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, smut, lactation kink, breastfeeding, Cunnilingus, kissing. MINORS DNI!🔞

𝐀/𝐍: You don’t have to read the first part to enjoy this one ;) but I think it’ll be better if you do since it is a little longer.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After you gave birth to your first daughter, Miguel spends the night admiring the changes that motherhood has done to your body.

The apartment finally hushed after hours of crying and whining. You finally put your baby to sleep, rocking her gently in your arms.

You gently placed her in the crib, taking one quick glance at her peaceful expression. A testimony of your growing family and your shared love with Miguel.

Her cheeks were plump, and she had crimson eyes and talons that mirrored her father’s features. However, she didn’t have the ability to control when they appeared— usually she was excited or agitated— so you would often have to give her mittens in public.

You checked the baby camera was fitted properly and the temperature of the room was okay before dimming the lights and exiting the nursery quietly.

There was a sense of solace that shrouded you as you made your way to the bedroom.

It had been two whole days you were home alone while Miguel was probably in another dimension. It was hard to predict when he'd come back home and the longer he was out, the more your heart yearned.

But the feeling quickly vanished as you saw a familiar figure outside your bedroom window.

Miguel swung into the bedroom balcony with his web before opening the balcony door to step inside. He had his full suit on but as soon as he was inside the bedroom, his mask fizzled out.

It had become a routine for him to use the balcony to get in the apartment rather than the front door to avoid getting spotted.

He ran a hand over his disheveled hair before his expression softened when he saw you. You must’ve looked exhausted because he was approaching you with caution.

“Hey you…” you closed the distance between the two of you and wrapped your arms around him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

He leaned in to kiss you deeply, making up for all those hours you were separated.

He pulled back from the kiss while still keeping his arms around you. “Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah she’s asleep. Do you wanna see her?”

“In a bit,” he said before lifting you up in his arms briefly and placing you on the bed.

This caught you by surprise.

“Mig…”

You didn’t expect him to be this handsy with you as soon as he came home. But you weren’t complaining.

“You look tired, amor. I hate leaving you alone for so long,” He said, a tenderness in his voice. His hands ran over the thighs, feeling every inch like it was his first time touching you.

“It’s all part of duty though, right? I know you always come back.” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek, sealing your words.

“I missed you. Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to feel you.” He murmured, his lips grazed over the curve of your neck.

You could feel his hands hiking up under your shirt before removing it completely. His neediness, as well as his swift movements, added to your heightened libido.

“I missed you too Mig,”

You weren't wearing a bra so your breasts, that were swollen with milk, bounced with every movement you made.

“So full…” he kissed along your chest, deliberately avoiding the nipple while caressing your sides. He couldn’t get enough of you and being separated from you for this long only made him more desperate for your presence.

“Are you gonna start rambling about how a woman produces milk?” You arched your brow inquisitively when you noticed him inspecting your breasts. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss his biology rants.

Miguel didn’t talk much unless he needed to, but when he did, you would cherish every word that uttered from his mouth.

“I am now…” he swiped his thumb over one of your nipples, making you hiss. You were more sensitive now so you were very responsive to his minimal touches.

“Your body has developed glands and structures inside of your breast which are full of milk ducts.” As he explained this to you, some of the milk seeped out from your nipples. You shuddered in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry…that happens sometimes. I should’ve pumped out the milk before…” You said apologetically. You tried to slip off his grasp but he had a tight hold on you.

“What a mess…” he commented before giving your breast a gentle squeeze, watching more of your milk leaking down his hands.

Heat reached your cheeks as you noticed the way he was staring at the milk in fascinating.

You hissed again from his grip he had on your breast. You knew you had been hyper lactating but it was hard to predict when the milk would leak out like this.

Miguel moved his hands from your breast and over to his mouth and lapped up the milk that spilled over his knuckles.

You felt a wetness pool your panties as you watched him taste your milk. There was something enticing watching your husband drinking your milk straight from your body.

He then leaned into your breast again and inhaled your scent deeply. “We can’t let this go to waste,”

You didn’t need to think too deeply about what he meant.

Before you could even begin to speak, he licked one of your nipples, cleaning off the mess before latching his mouth around it.

The sudden sensation made you arch your back further into his mouth. You gripped onto his broad arms as he continued to suckle on your breast.

You soaked in the way he was completely indulging in your milk, his cheeks hollowing in with each suck.

You could feel your milk seeping through your nipples and into his mouth as he took his fill greedily.

After a while he released your nipple, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were half-lidded.

You were too stunned by what had just happened and the words lodged in your throat. Miguel took your silence as an opportunity to reach for your lips and kissed you passionately.

You could taste the sweetness of your own milk from his mouth as he swiped his tongue over your lips. He pulled away, leaving you dazed.

“Did you enjoy that?” You finally asked.

“I did, we should do that more often,” The corner of his lips curved up. “But tell me, what hormones are responsible for lactation, hm?”

Again, he was asking a question and expecting an answer from you when you were dizzy with bliss and could barely speak.

It was definitely on purpose because it amused him how much of a mess he made out of you.

You tried to process his question and articulate an answer, even though you knew it was only going to feed into his ego.

“Hm…prolactin…oxytocin…” you breathed.

A grin formed on his lips, both from the state you were in and the satisfied answer you gave.

“My sweet and clever wife,”

His praise made your stomach flutter.

He hands reached over to the waist to remove your pants along with your panties, leaving you bare on the bed. As you lied on your back, you could feel his dick pressing against your clit through the digital suit as he crept closer.

He tapped on his watch and his suit pixelated away, revealing his chiseled body and his throbbing cock. The precum that was seeping from the tip was too tempting. But you forced yourself to stay grounded before you lost control in your lust.

“Miguel, I’m not on anything,” your voice was sharp with caution.

It had been too long since you both did anything intimate. Even during your pregnancy, you were focused primarily on your health and making sure your pregnancy went smoothly.

But as much as you yearned to feel Miguel inside you and the friction from his dick, you were smart enough to hold back.

You knew that you were more fertile after you gave birth, with an increased level of oestrogen, making you more susceptible to get pregnant again.

The last thing you wanted was an unexpected pregnancy when your hands were already full looking after your 5-month-old daughter.

Miguel kept his gaze at you. “You are breastfeeding,”

Your clit was throbbing, desperate for his touch. But you weren’t going to cave in.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Miguel lowered himself to reach for your thighs and dipped his head lower until he was facing between your legs. All you could focus on now was his exhales fanning on your soaked cunt.

“I guess we could find an alternative tonight…”

You couldn’t fully process his statement before you felt his tongue drag over your folds. The sudden contact made you clamp your legs around his head.

You reached over and ran your hands over his hair.

He knew that area was more delicate now after you gave birth. You could feel him trying to be gentle with you while eating you out.

It made your heart stutter.

But even if he was giving you a soft treatment, your senses were still firing and you could feel heat building up in your core.

“Miguel…” you moaned lowly.

He hummed against your core in response, sending a tantalising vibration through your spine.

He was trying not to flicker his tongue too deep into your cunt to avoid hurting you. Every juice that was leaking from you was quickly licked off by him.

Between your thighs, you could see him looking back up at you, watching your reaction while drinking up his fill of you and coaxing your orgasm.

It’s been a while since your pussy had any attention, causing you to be pent up with tension.

You came sooner than you anticipated, most likely from how sensitive you were. You arched your back with a long moan. Everything that squirted from your cunt was licked off from his tongue.

You were limp on the sheets, drenched in the afterglow. Your legs released their grip around Miguel's head as he pulled himself away from you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

There was a sudden sound of crying coming from the next room. Your daughter had woken up.

Miguel got himself off the bed. “I’ll get her, you stay.”

You nodded mutely, giving him the chance to bond with your daughter after two days of being without her.

He left the room but not before putting his sweat pants on. You, on the other hand, were left on the bed to catch your breath.

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freedomfireflies · 5 months

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Uppercut*

Summary: The fourth part to Knockout*

The one where Harry is fighting everyone. Even you.

Word Count: 9.1k (I mean at this point it's just tradition)

Content Warning: 18+, angst, smut, exhibitionism

The halls of the subway station are quiet. Empty. A light flickers overhead, casting odd shadows across the concrete floor that lead you toward him.

The hooded figure sits on a lone bench, face downcast toward the ground. His leg is bouncing anxiously, a nervous habit you’d recognize anywhere. His fingers are curled around the seat below, as if holding himself back. Keeping himself still.

And then, he looks up.

Those soft green eyes find yours, and suddenly, everything is okay. Your limbs no longer ache from the strenuous shift at the diner, your heart no longer feels weary. You feel energized and alive, and you’ve never been happier to see his face.

Harry smiles when he recognizes you, instantly leaping up as you approach, and pulling you into his arms.

He hugs you. Pulls you directly into his chest and keeps you there as you laugh and whisper your hello.

“Hi,” he whispers back, lips nestling into the crown of your head. He releases a deep sigh. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” You cling to his sweatshirt and allow your eyes to flutter shut. Indulging in the scent of him. The warmth. Stability. “Are you all right?”

“Better now. Are you?”

“Mhm.” You nod but refuse to let him go. “Was a little surprised to get your note, though.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs before finally pulling away. Allowing himself a good look at your face that makes his dimple pop free. “Figured it was the safest way. Don’t wanna risk somebody seeing us out there. And I thought maybe this could be our thing.”

“Our thing?”

He chuckles to himself and brings his palm to your cheek. Cradling it gently while running his thumb back and forth along the soft skin. “Yeah. Meeting up in the dark subway in the early morning hours. Sneaking around, trying not to get caught. Forbidden love and all that.”

Love. There’s that word again, and it makes your head spin. Dizzy in the best and worst way possible.

“How romantic of you,” you tease instead, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “All right. This can be our thing.”

“Good.” He dips down and kisses you now. Slow and hard, exactly the way you like it. Keeping you against his lips for far longer than he should, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Might steal you away every night.”

With a soft grin of your own, you kiss him back. “You better.”

After allowing you enough time to catch your breath, he leads you back over to his bench. Curling up beside you while simultaneously tucking you into his side. Hiding you away from the rest of the world, and the few stragglers that are entering and exiting the subway.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks, mouth ghosting across your temple as he speaks.

You nod, keeping yourself snug under his arm. “Mhm. Wasn’t as busy as it usually is.”

“Yeah? You make anything good?”

“Snickerdoodle cookies.”

He gasps, rather dramatically, and it makes you laugh. “Cherry, you know those are my favorite.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really, really.” He kisses your cheek almost absentmindedly before continuing. “Especially the way you make ‘em. Told you that, didn’t I?”

“Maybe. Don’t know if I was really listening, though.”

“No? You don’t listen when I talk, sweet girl?”

You smirk. “Sometimes I get a little distracted.”

“With what, baby?”

“Your…mouth,” you admit somewhat sheepishly. “Sometimes I just like to watch your lips move. And then I forget to listen to what’s coming out of them.”

He laughs now, and the sound is infectious. Bouncing around the concrete walls until you giggle. “Is that right?”

“It’s not my fault,” you pout playfully, reaching up to brush your thumb along the pretty, pink fibers at your disposal. They’re healing nicely from the last fight, and you feel relieved. “You have such a pretty face.”

He hums against your finger before pressing into it, leaving a soft kiss. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“So do you,” he whispers, dropping his voice into something soft and seductive. “See your face in mind every time I close my eyes.”

And it shouldn’t make your stomach flutter the way it does, but you find yourself biting back a sigh as you scoot impossibly closer. “You’re silly.”

“Am I?” Another kiss to your thumb before he moves down your hand and toward your wrist. Leaving a trail of them in his wake. “What if m’being serious?”

Your breath catches and you watch his mouth move closer and closer. “Then you’re seriously silly.”

His lips twitch up. “If I am, it’s because that’s what you make me.” Another collection of gentle kisses along the inside of your arm. “Think about you every hour…of every goddamn day.”

You feel lost on him. Drowning in his aurora, and this hypnotic haze he’s lured you into. Unaffected by the people around you, or the way this might look.

All you really notice…is him.

“And believe me, sweet girl,” he continues in a huskier murmur, “the things I think about are anything but silly.”

Your pulse skips from somewhere beneath your chest while a whimper bleeds from your throat. You brace yourself against his stronger frame as his kisses reach the sleeve of your uniform, just beneath your shoulder.

He only stops once to meet your eye. “D’you wanna know what I think about, baby?”

Your first instinct is to nod, but you catch yourself just in time. Forcing yourself to finally say the one thing you’ve been meaning to all evening. “I wanna know what you’re gonna do about Jesse.”

He leans back, and the devious expression falls away.

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Harry,” you rush to explain, allowing him to drop your arm only so you can take hold of his. “I’m worried about you.”

“Please,” he snorts. “Jesse can’t fucking hurt me. Couldn’t hurt me even when he was in the fucking ring with me.”

Your eyebrow cocks up. “…what?”

A nonchalant shrug, almost like he doesn’t realize what he’s said. Or he doesn’t care. “Few years ago, back when he wasn’t such a little shit. He was one of the fighters."

And suddenly…it hits you. Slaps you across the face and leaves a permanent palm print. “How many years ago?”

He seems to realize around the same time you do, eyes softening as he rolls his shoulders back. “Three or four, I think.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Feel your hands grow shaky and your heart begin to wrench. “He was…he was fighting. When he was with me.”

Not exactly a question. Rather a conclusive statement you both stumble onto as the picture becomes clearer.

There were a lot of things about Jesse you never learned. His anger always being his biggest question mark.

You saw the subtle scars that were occasionally smeared along his knuckles or painted across his back. But his excuse was always a vague, mumbled explanation of, “Oh, just this buddy of mine at the gym. We like to box sometimes. I’m fine.”

And that was that.

You figured what he did at the gym was his own business. And you had no reason to believe it was anything more than a few rounds with a friend. Had no reason to believe it was something bigger. That he was lying to you.

And perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t lying. He was boxing, just not at the local gym. And certainly not for free.

“Cherry,” Harry calls to you now, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Tugging your hands onto his lap to recapture your attention. “Baby—”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, a bit airier than you mean to before clearing your throat. “I’m fine. I always knew he was doing something, I just…this makes sense.”

He’s unconvinced, frowning to himself before squeezing your palms. “You might not have known him very well, but I do. Okay, I know this side of him, and I know that he’s nothing more than a bunch of empty threats and a checkbook. And I’m not gonna let him hurt me. Or you. Never you.”

And even though your stomach is turning, you believe him. “I know. But what if…what if he tries to do something? To you, during your fights? What if…what if he sends somebody after you?”

To your surprise, he smirks. “Come on, do you really think I’m scared of some hitman? I know you haven’t seen very many of my fights, but believe me, baby, I can handle it.”

You, however, don't smile. “Harry, I’m serious.”

“I thought I was serious.”

“Harry.” You pout again and tug on his hands. “You didn’t see how angry he was—”

“I did,” he argues, the smug grin slipping away. “I know exactly how fucking mad he was, and all because I lost him a couple of fights. And I don’t give a shit because he’s nothing but a fucking rat.”

“Yeah. But he’s a rat that’s threatening to hurt you.”

The darkened expression returns, and his frown makes you want to cry. He’s far too beautiful to look so anguished. “I don’t care. I told you, he can’t hurt me—”

“But he can hurt me,” you interrupt, and his jaw snaps shut. “By hurting you, he hurts me. I mean, just the way he looked at you. The way he talked about you, it just…it…God, it made my fucking skin crawl, Harry.”

The crasser language that slips from your tongue seems to entertain him and disappoint him all in the same moment.

“Okay,” he mumbles in a lower volume, almost as though hoping to talk you down. “Okay, I know—”

“No, you don’t know,” you argue. “You…you don’t want him to hurt me, and yet he is. And he doesn’t have to, okay? You just have to win, and he doesn’t care. As long as you win.”

The frown seems to get deeper. “Cherry…it’s not just about winning. He’s put a fucking price on my head and expects me to pay it. And I told you, I’m tired of playing his fucking games.”

You squeeze his hands a bit harder, desperate to understand. “Is that why you threw the fights?” you ask gently. “To piss him off?”

Another shrug. Angrier. “Not exactly. I just figured he’d drop me if I wasn’t doing the one thing he wanted me to.”

Your eyes flick between his. “But it’s not that easy.”

“No,” he agrees. “Because he’s a fucking weasel that thinks he can use you to get what he wants from me. And I won’t let him.”

Your heart drops into your toes as the two of you grow quiet. Undeterred by the sounds of the subway entering and exiting the station, the screeching lines and opening doors. You’re immersed in your own little bubble here with him, unable to hear anything past the pounding in your ears.

“So what do we do?” you dare to ask.

He sighs again before bringing your entangled hands to his mouth. Kissing your fingers as he thinks. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, and it looks like he wants to say more…but he stops.

So, you finish for him. “Let’s leave.”

“What?”

You nod quicky and glance toward the tracks. “Let’s leave. Let’s just get on the train and go somewhere. Start a new life. No more Jesse, no more fights, no more threats. We can just leave.”

A hint of a smile is all you’re afforded before he chuckles and kisses your hands once more. “And I thought I was the silly one.”

“No, I mean it,” you insist. “We could, we could leave, we could start over. We could be happy. Just you and me. And a bunch of pies.”

There’s a gentle beat before his brows begin to furrow. “Cherry,” he mumbles, and you feel your heart sink.

You knew it was a long shot. Knew there was really no logic behind the suggestion, only the need to take action. And for just a moment, you liked the picture you were painting. Of you and him in a sweet little house somewhere out in the country. Working your typical 9 to 5 jobs before coming home to make dinner together.

Perhaps it's a little old fashioned and a bit mundane, but it looks so beautiful compared to what you have now. And you imagine any life would be exciting with him at the center of it.

“I know,” you finally whisper, allowing your shoulders to slump. “But…I had to try.”

His amused grin returns before he tugs you closer in order to kiss you. And it’s quick and playful and everything you’ve ever needed. An almost perfect fix for this ache in your chest.

“And I love that,” he tells you, and the second use of the forbidden word leaves you breathless. Even more so than the kisses. “But m’gonna be okay, sweet girl. I won’t let him hurt us.”

And you want to believe him. Want to be sure that Jesse is nothing more than a footnote in this new chapter you’ve opened together.

But something doesn’t feel right.

Because there’s this look in his eye. The same look you saw that night in the ring. Animalistic and unrelenting. Like he could split somebody in half and never think twice about it.

“And how are you gonna do that?” you whisper, reaching out to tangle your fingers in the hoodie on his chest. “Huh? Are you just gonna beat him up until he changes his mind?”

“Maybe.” He’s smiling, but there’s something serious in the way he speaks, and your stomach wrenches. “What? He’s used to getting the shit beat out of him.”

“Harry—”

“Cherry.” He leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. “Don’t have to worry, okay? I’ll be all right.”

You’re ready to argue with him, another excuse already locked and loaded, but before you can fire it, he brings his hand to your temple. Sweeping his thumb along your forehead with a much softer expression.

“You know, you get the cutest little wrinkle when you frown,” he tells you, brushing his finger down the space between your eyebrows. “Right…here.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from giggling. “Oh, do I?”

“Mhm.” He smooths his touch along your skin before moving to your jaw. Tracing the line almost reverently. “There’s a lot of things about you that are cute.”

“Is that right?”

He nods once before he’s dropping both hands to your hips in order to lead you over to his lap. Placing your knees on either side of his waist and holding you there while you squeal.

And he doesn’t seem to care about anything else but you. Not the people walking by or the chilly gust of wind that dances through the station. He gazes up at you and brushes a bit of hair behind your ear. Taking in the details of your face as if memorizing every inch of you.

“I think you’re beautiful, Cher,” he tells you, and not for the first time. “And I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you settle, finding stability in more ways than one. “Well, I think you’re being silly again.”

“Yeah?” He smirks as you dip down to brush your nose with his. “Then maybe I need to prove to you just how much I mean it.”

One of his large hands slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing you just over your uniform. And you laugh as you playfully swat at his chest, although you can’t deny there’s a part of you desperately searching for more.

Ever since the other night, you’ve felt rather insatiable. Distracted by the memory of him in your hand – of the weight and the feel. You see his body when you close your eyes, see the tattoos, and ridges, and lines. The curve of his spine and his hips and his thighs.

And you’re reminded again of exactly how thrilling it was when you feel him beneath you. A gentle, subtle graze of something hard as you’re rocked over his lap. And it makes your breath catch.

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

His lashes flutter closed before he ghosts his lips along the edge of your cheek. “What, baby?”

Another pull to your hips makes you sigh, fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. “This isn’t fair.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You stumble over a whine before bracing yourself against his chest. “Because we can’t. Not here.”

“Not here?” he repeats, almost teasingly. “Why not here? Don’t want them to watch, sweet girl?”

You don’t have the strength to shake your head.

“Don’t want them to watch you grind yourself against my lap, like my desperate little bunny?” He grins and it’s so very devious. “Don’t want them to see just how needy you really get for me?”

And maybe…there’s a small part of you that does.

Common sense evades you now as you pant, “I do. I do, Harry, please.”

He’s amused by this. At your determination to take whatever he'll give. Soft, gentle hands slipping their way beneath the hem of your uniform, stroking and groping as though playing with you. Taunting you with the idea of more only to take it away with a kiss.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you now, eyes flicking to yours.

It’s the easiest answer you’ve given all night. “Yes. Yes, I do. Always.”

He smiles, filled with relief before he’s nodding his chin at you. “Okay, baby. Turn around for me, yeah?”

A bit confused, you rearrange yourself over his lap. Settling down with your back against his chest while his hands sneak around your waist to keep you still.

Those beautiful fingers land on your thighs, just above the hem of your dress. They toy with the fabric almost absentmindedly and you whimper beneath a strained breath as you wait.

“Shh,” he coos, resting his lips along the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you. Told you I’ll always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nod as your head falls back onto his shoulder. Unable to hold itself up any longer while he does this to you.

Your attention lands on the train just a few hundred feet in front of you as it slowly begins to roll down the tracks before taking off. A gust of wind follows, sweeping across your cheek, and sending a chill down your spine.

Your small shiver makes him smirk. “Relax, Cherry. You’re all right.”

There are only three other people in the station, all scattered about on opposite ends, checking their phones, and reading their newspapers. None of them close enough to see what he’s really doing to you, and you imagine even if they could, they wouldn’t care.

Yet the idea that any one of them could look up and glance over is thrilling. Worsening the ache between your thighs as Harry’s thumb finally slips beneath the hem.

“Breathe,” he instructs gently, instructing you to take a deep breath which you shakily do. “If you want me to stop, you tell me, yes?”

You bite back a whine. “I don’t want you to stop. Promise.”

“But if you do,” he insists, slowing the stroking of his hand until you nearly wilt, “you tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you agree quickly. “Yes, I understand, I promise.”

Satisfied, he continues. Slipping his touch further up your legs while making sure the edge of your dress doesn’t move. Keeping you covered while he does this, offering you just an ounce of privacy. And you’re so grateful for him.

He crawls higher and higher until he finds the soft lace of your underwear. Tracing the band almost lazily, running up and down the curve of your thigh without ever giving in.

“Harry,” you sigh, reaching for his wrist to compel him. “Harry, please—”

“Shh,” he hushes again, nudging his nose against your cheek. “Said I’ve got you, and I do. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise. Just wanna play with you first. Wanna feel you.”

You’re tempted to argue that he’s nowhere close to actually feeling you yet, but you realize then that he means more than that. He wants to take in every inch of your skin at his disposal. Wants to feel the softness of your hip, the goosebumps along your thighs. Wants to learn you, study you, memorize you. Simply exist with you in his arms.

You unwind in his embrace, allowing him to indulge in you exactly the way he wants. But the coil in your stomach grows tighter at the tender implication, making your desperation for him that much stronger.

Finally – finally – he moves closer. Brushing the tips of his fingers down the front of you, just over your covered clit and down.

He does it again. Over and over, albeit idly, while effectively worsening your need, making you whimper.

He only grins. “S’that bad, baby, huh?”

And you don’t need to answer for him to know that it is. He can feel it. Can feel exactly how anxious you are to be touched as he continues his soft strokes.

Then…he hooks his finger around the band and pulls.

The brisk morning air instantly finds the inside of your warm thighs, and you gasp. Squirming over his lap until he has to use one hand to hold you still. Shushing you once again while squeezing the top of your leg soothingly.

“I know,” he murmurs, allowing you no more than a few seconds to adjust before brushing his thumb down your pussy. “But I need you to stay quiet for me, okay? Can you do that, sweet girl?”

You nod, thankful that your outburst didn’t draw too much attention from the others in the station. But it seems that was only the start as Harry continues his playful flicks and pulls. Attempting to unravel you as quickly as possible, despite your muffled whimpers for mercy.

He starts with your clit. Circling it a few times with his large digits until he can really wind you up. Slow touches that turn fast, his lips trailing from your cheek and to your neck.

He kisses you as he does this. Nips at your skin, tugs it between his teeth, soothes it with his tongue. Marking you – claiming you. In more ways than one.

“Oh, Cherry,” he hums after a moment, and your insides wrench. “You’re all wet, baby. S’it that bad? S’it hurt that bad?”

You’d like to nod, but you don’t have the capacity. Only enough strength to squeeze his wrist and whisper, “Harry—”

“Mm. I know. Gonna let me have some?”

You finally convince your head to move up and down while he chuckles and brings his other hand into play. One, large digit slipping between your folds and down to where your arousal has collected while the others continue stroking your clit.

And it’s almost too much. This screaming in your head for more. To be filled and fixed by the only man who can help you.

And it’s not his cock, but his finger does feel beautiful. Pushing in to your tightness while your walls are quick to draw him in.

It’s ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Happening right in the middle of this dimly lit subway station and the people who might see.

And yet…you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more alive and in control of your own experience. Even if it’s slightly dangerous and perhaps not something you previously would have considered. With Harry it feels…different. Destined. Because you know he means it when he says he’ll take care of you. After all, he always does.

When he reaches his knuckle, you keen, releasing a strangled groan that’s much too loud.

He takes the hand on your clit away in order to smack it against your mouth. Keeping you quiet until you finish.

“Baby,” he warns, but it’s sympathetic, “gotta try for me, okay? Gotta try to stay quiet.”

You nod again as you swallow the rest of your noises. But he keeps his palm against your lips, wet fingertips stroking your cheek. Painting you with your own arousal.

He begins to pump you slowly. Retracting almost all the way only to ease back in. It’s a steady pace he sets, but it’s addictive. Keeping you on the brink without ever actually offering you what you really need. Never scratching that itch.

“Harry,” you try, the sound of his name muffled by his hand.

But he understands, nevertheless, kissing just below your ear before finally lowering his arm. “What? What do you need?”

More, more, more. One, singular word that’s ringing between your ears, loud and insistent. “Please…”

He hums. “Please,” he repeats. “Please…what?”

“Need…need—”

“Need? What do you need? Need me?”

“Yes,” you nearly gasp. “Yes, Harry, please. Hurts…”

And it does hurt. You’ve never felt an emptiness like this. Never felt so hollow and depraved. But he’s the only one who can fix it, and your eyelids grow heavy as you push yourself further back into his chest.

The tip of a second finger begins to tease your opening before he’s pushing both in. And it’s almost too easy, the sound of your arousal being pulled in and out rather loud. And so very lewd. Too much eroticism for you to handle, and it feels as though your limbs have turned to jelly as you slump in his hold.

“Okay, baby,” he whispers, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “Gonna come for me, yeah? Just give me one. Just need to feel you around my fingers one time.”

And it’s an easy instruction. You can already feel the seams of your sanity coming loose as he returns to your clit and pinches it between his fingers.

The combination of pleasure from both of his hands is almost cruel, and it makes your heart wrench. Because it’s so close, you can taste it. Can swallow it whole, and you’ve never felt so insatiable. The urge to just have him rather prevalent and undeniable. You imagine if you could, you’d wrap yourself around him and never let go.

And you don’t think he’d really mind.

Your hips buck up the moment he curls his touch, a soft sigh fighting its way between your parted lips.

And you’re so enamored by him. So endlessly addicted to the man doing this to you, and you can feel the way your orgasm barrels closer. The way he teases you with the thought of release, dangling it directly in front of you.

“There you go,” he breathes, and you can feel him against your back. The groan that sits in his chest as he works you closer. “So good, yeah? Love the way you squeeze me.”

As if at the mention, you feel yourself clench around his large digits. Pussy fluttering until he’s dropping his mouth to your shoulder in order to stifle his own sounds.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles before repeating the action again. “God, you’re so tight, sweet girl. I’d fucking ruin you, wouldn’t I?”

You nod fervently, the image of his cock painting itself behind your eyelids. The length, the girth, the way it looks between his thighs. He would, he’d ruin you. In the best possible way. And you’d thank him for it.

You can feel him beneath you, just below your ass. And he’s glorious. Cursing to himself whenever you squirm over his cock, taunting him about the same way he’s taunting you.

It’s clear he’s losing the battle for control. Whispers of, “Oh, my sweet girl. My fucking girl. Aren’t you? Never knew how good he had it, did he?”

He doesn’t need to say Jesse’s name for you to know exactly who he’s referring to, and your stomach lands in your throat.

You don’t want to imagine him when you’re with Harry. And you don’t think Harry does, either. But he grits the insinuation out through clenched teeth before settling into a faster rhythm.

“Could fucking kill him,” Harry seethes. “Could pull his heart out of his goddamn chest just for fucking looking at you.”

He presses hard into your clit until you’re forced to bite your tongue. Drinking down your whimpers and cries as one of the men across the station folds his paper and begins to stand.

You pray he doesn’t look over, pulse thumping wildly against your ribcage. And yet, at the same time, you want him to know. Want them all to know what your stranger is doing to you. To watch you fall apart by his hand until you’re nothing but a pile of pants and sighs.

“For touching you,” he continues in your ear, a disdained hiss that makes your eyes roll back. “For putting his fucking hands on what’s mine.”

You squeeze his wrist so hard, you’re sure you’ll leave a bruise. But it doesn’t seem to matter because he goes faster. Harder. Plunging his fingers in and out of your cunt at an unrelenting pace. Needing you to cum more than he’s ever needed anything else.

“Come on,” he urges, kissing down your neck with a faint grumble. “God, come on, Cherry. Come for me. Let me feel you, just one more time.”

You’re almost there. Can feel the beginnings of your orgasm brightening the edges of your vision. You need far more than he’s giving you and yet, at the same time, you’ve never felt so satisfied.

“Show me how good you are,” he murmurs. “Show me how good you’re gonna be for me, taking my cock. All laid out in my bed. Tears down your pretty, little face.”

And you can see it so clearly. Sweaty bodies writhing together, tangled in the sheets. The way he holds you to the mattress, using his weight to keep you good, keep you open. His hard thrusts, his strong thighs. His hands pinning yours just above your head, his hips slamming into yours.

You clamp down around his fingers once more and he’s mesmerized. Sliding all the way to the knuckle and holding them there to feel every flutter of your pussy around him.

“Shit, that’s it.” His arm flexes from beside you, and you wish he wasn’t wearing that goddamn hoodie so you could see every pull of his muscles. “Know you’re close. Gonna get you there, baby, I swear.”

And you know he will. He almost has, and maybe there’s a small part of you that doesn’t want this to end. Wants to keep feeling this indescribable rush as he sits with you until the sun comes up.

With all the frantic fumbling, the hem of your dress has slowly begun to ride up. Revealing the disappearance of his hands and the tops of your thighs until there’s no question about what’s really happening underneath.

And maybe you should readjust yourself, but you don’t. Can’t. You’re almost there and all clarity seems to fly right out the window as you decide that you don’t care. Onlookers be damned. If they see, they see.

This is what gets you there. This realization that people can watch him touch you. Even if nobody is looking right at this moment, they could. And it’s wrong, and it’s strange, and it’s so not like you.

Yet you’ve never felt more at ease.

The moment it takes hold of you, he zeroes in. Fucking his fingers into your cunt rather mercilessly while the other hand returns to your mouth. Already anticipating your noises.

You moan against his palm while he tugs you impossibly closer to his chest. Attempting to shield you from everybody else as you experience the come down.

“Shh,” he repeats for a third time, the soothing tone a stark contrast to the unrelenting movement of his fingers. “Don’t want them to hear you, sweet girl. Wanna keep you to myself. Cause your noises are mine, yeah, Cherry? They belong to me?”

Posed as a question, but you both know it’s not. You’ve never belonged to anybody the way you belong to him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, you allow yourself to whimper against his hand through every second of it. Riding out his thrusts until your stomach nearly caves in. Until you have no further strength to hold yourself upright or keep yourself composed.

“There you go,” he coos. “Just like that. Want it all, baby. Every fucking drop.”

You give it to him. Give him everything you have, everything he asks for. And the soft grunts in your ear nearly bring you to the edge for a second time, but he’s pulling away just before you can find out.

Your exhale is strained when he finally lowers his arm, but he remedies this by wrapping it around your middle and straightening the hem of your uniform.

“How’s that, hm?” He tucks his chin just over your shoulder. “Feel better? Y’gave me a lot tonight, sweet girl. M’so proud of you. You were so good for me.”

You offer a lazy smile at his tender praise.

Soft strokes are circled around your thigh as you both sit in the new silence. Indulging in these few moments you have left.

And just the idea of having to leave him nearly crushes you.

He’s rather addicting, you realize. This man – this stranger – that comes to your diner and sits in your booth asking for pies. Even without knowing much about who he is, you’re so endlessly drawn to him. Hypnotized by his charm and his face and his past. The scars that litteried his hands and body.

And now, after everything else…he’s the only one you truly feel safe with. Comfortable. It doesn’t matter if he’s nothing but question marks, he’s…Harry. He’s your Harry. And you don’t ever want that to change.

You watch his fingers brush at your skin, and your heart feels so full. It’s never felt like this with anybody else. Not during the sex, not during the tender moments. You thought you felt that way with Jesse, but it pales in comparison to how you feel now.

However, the fleeting memory of Jesse sours your smile as you’re forced to remember the reality of this delicate moment.

Even when Harry was touching you, he was so angry. He is so angry. You know he’ll never be able to tame that demon that lives within his heart, but you aren’t sure there’s enough room for both.

You want to believe him when he says he’ll figure it out. But it’s becoming much too clear that he believes the only way to fix it…is to hurt Jesse.

And therefore get himself hurt in the process.

There’s so much more that you don’t understand. So much more that he clearly doesn’t want you to, and you’re devastated. You feel helpless. Because you want to protect him the same way he wants to protect you. You want to keep him from making these rash decisions just because he thinks they’ll protect you.

Because you don’t want to have to lose him or let him go. You want to take him away from all of this and make him happy. Find a way to keep him safe.

You want to find another way.

“Harry?” you venture timidly.

He hums.

“Why did you tell me not to tell Owen where I was going?”

There’s a brief beat before he sighs rather heavily and tightens his hold on you. “When I drove by the diner earlier, I saw Jesse.”

Your eyes widen.

“He was talking to Owen, and my guess is that he was looking for you.” Another pause. “Does Owen know where you live?”

You glance down at his fingers before tangling them with yours. Playing with them as though to prolong your answer. “…yes.”

He sucks in a sharp inhale. “Fuck.”

The heavy sound makes your chest ache, and you quickly sit up in order to glance back and see him. “Jesse would never do that.”

“You don’t know that,” he nearly scoffs. “He’s a fucking baby when he doesn’t get his way, and if he thinks you’re still seeing me—”

“Well, he won’t,” you retort. “He won’t know. We’ll meet down here, and we’ll figure out what to do. And it’ll be okay.”

His eyes flick between yours, and even in the soft light, that gentle green is breathtaking. “I think you have more faith in him than you should.”

Your stomach sinks.

“And I think you have the wrong faith in me, too,” he whispers, reaching out to cup your chin. “M’not sure I’m who you think I am.”

The implication makes you frown. “You’re exactly who I think you are. You’re kind, and you’re smart, and you’re strong. You take care of me, you protect me. I know you, Har.”

His expression falls ever-so-slightly. “Not as much as I should—”

“Harry—”

“You want to save him, and I want to fucking kill him,” he says. “You think he’s worth saving. You think I’m worth saving, and I’m not. We’re not—”

“Stop,” you nearly gasp, surging forward to take his cheeks between your palms. “You are always worth saving. Why do you think I’m trying so hard to keep you?”

He nuzzles his face into your palm before releasing a deep breath. “Because you’re good. You’re so good, Cherry. And I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”

You tighten your hold. “Stop saying that. You deserve me and I deserve you. Okay, we’ll figure this out. We’re fine. Everything is gonna be fine.”

You know he wants to argue. Has about a hundred excuses and arguments ready for use, but he bites his tongue. Allowing you to have this victory as you dip down and kiss him.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he says, and you understand more than he’ll ever know.

“But I am safe,” you argue, reaching down to tug his hoodie pleadingly. “As long as I’m with you, I’m safe.”

His sigh is gentle as he squeezes your chin. “I know. Just wanna figure some things out first, yeah? Make sure I can take care of you.”

You say nothing as his thumb sweeps across your parted lips, but you’re gutted. Touched by the thought, yet empty without him.

This is how you leave each other. After Harry helps you to your feet and makes sure you’re steady. And it’s quiet as you say your goodbyes. As he holds you against his heart until he has to physically take himself away. Leaving you with a lingering kiss that you feel all the way down in your toes.

“Tomorrow?” he makes you promise before you can slip away.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach very far. “Tomorrow,” you agree. “Right here.”

“Right here. Find me.”

“Always.”

And with that…he drops your hand and walks away.

However, the image of him follows you all the way home. The way his features fell, the way his voice cracked. The anguish so prevalent in his insistence, and the unmistakable rage behind his eyes.

He’s unrelenting. He doesn’t see a way out that keeps him safe. He’d rather risk his life in order to protect yours. And you don’t want to understand it, but you do. Because a part of you wants to do the same for him.

Jesse made his instructions clear. And it should be easy. It should be so easy for Harry to do the one thing he knows he can. To win.

But he won’t. He won’t win as long as Jesse’s his sponsor. And if he won’t win…

You know he can. Saw it happen just the other night. The way he threw his opponent onto the mat and held him down until he could hardly breathe. He’d been losing – he’d been throwing the fight – until he saw you. And once he saw you…the fight was over.

This is what Jesse wanted, and you know it. He wants you to be the reason Harry changes his mind, but it’s clear now that you’re the reason he won’t.

He’ll never change his mind as long as he’s convinced he’s protecting you. As long as he’s sure that his pain is proper payment for your comfort.

And it ruins you. It ruins you this idea that you can’t help him. That he’ll allow himself to be beaten to the brink of death in order to keep you safe. To keep you untouched and unscathed.

Jesse’s threat is real. Frighteningly real, and there’s this ache in your stomach that can’t be mended with kisses and kind words. You can’t convince him, you can’t change his mind, and you can’t find another way.

There’s only one.

It taunts you as you go about your night. It wakes you the next morning. Follows you all the way to work.

Perhaps the only way to solve the problem is to take yourself out of the equation. To force Harry’s hand exactly the way Jesse wants. To show him that it’s okay to save himself. That he doesn’t have to put you first.

But in order to truly take yourself out…you have to take yourself from him. And the thought of removing yourself from his life nearly wrecks you. It’s violent and unthinkable, causing a hitch in your breath before you’ve even decided.

You can’t imagine a world without him in it. You don’t want to. You’re so irrevocably happy with him, and you imagine he feels the same for you.

But if you ever lost him…if your selfishness took him from you, you don’t know what you’d do. And it’s exactly the way he feels for you, but you realize then that you’d rather push him away than lose him forever.

You’d rather have his life than his love.

Your shift goes by far too fast, and when you finally clock out and head for the subway station, your insides are in knots.

You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to have to do this, but it’s the only exit you see. Right alongside the memories of each of Harry’s bruises and cuts. Reminding you of how much worse it could really get.

And when you step up to the subway and see his shadow just across the way…the decision finds you.

A grin splits his face as he strides toward you, instantly wrapping you in his arms and pulling you back into his chest. Exactly the way he left you the night before.

“Hi,” he murmurs, lips burying into your hair as though he hasn’t been able to breathe without you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, throat already growing dry. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be, sweet girl.” He leans back in order to study you, fingers stroking across your cheek rather affectionately. “Owen didn’t give you trouble, did he?”

“No. No, it wasn’t him—”

“Jesse?” The sound of his name is sharp, and it makes your eyelashes flutter.

“No.” Your voice has gone quiet. Far too quiet, and his brows pinch together. “No, I just…I have something I have to do. And I’m not sure that I can.”

He steps closer. “Then let me help, yeah? We can do it together.”

You want to cry.

Your shift in demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed, and he quickly reaches for your hand in order to drag you toward the bench just behind him.

“Okay, all right,” he murmurs as he brings you to sit. “Talk to me, sweet girl. Let me help, what can I do?”

You stumble over a breath and glance down at your lap. If you look at him, you’ll never do it. “I…I…”

You can’t force the words out. Can’t find what you really want to say – can’t even believe you’re saying it at all.

But you have to. You have to protect him; you have to do what he won’t.

He dips down in order to recapture your attention. “Deep breath, baby, okay? Just talk to me. I just wanna help.”

It hurts the way he speaks to you. Hurts the way he’s still trying to help. The way he cradles your face in his hand in order to comfort you.

“I…” You swallow thickly and revel in the feel of his touch for the last time. “I think…I think we should take a break.”

His head tilts, but he appears unfazed. Perhaps he doesn’t understand or perhaps he didn’t really hear you. “What?”

And you almost hate him for making you repeat it. “I want to take a break. I don’t…I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Now he hears you, but he it’s obvious that he doesn’t understand. Leaning back as his features twist together. “Cherry…”

And suddenly, you feel unsure. Consumed by the idea that you're making a huge mistake. Maybe there's another way, maybe...maybe you just didn't look hard enough.

Because what if letting him go does more harm than good? What if he can't find another way without you? What if you can't live without him?

But then Jesse's threat rings in your ear. The taunt that he'd kill him himself if he didn't do things differently. If he didn't listen.

If you couldn't convince him

And the moment you imagine Harry lying on the ground– dead – you realize that this is truly the only way.

You raise your eyes to his, and it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. “I’m sorry.”

But it appears your apology falls on deaf ears. He merely frowns, regarding you almost suspiciously. “He got to you, didn’t he? He’s making you say this.”

“No…no, he just—”

“He what? S’this about what he said? S’this about what I said? Because I meant it. I’ll fucking kill him—”

“No, Harry, I just…I think you were right. I think we’re never gonna agree on how to handle this and…and maybe there’s a reason.”

He considers this before rejecting it with a soft scoff. “We don’t have to agree. I told you, I can handle him—”

“I don’t think you can,” you argue. “And I think it’s better if we just quit while we’re ahead.”

It’s bullshit. All of it. A bunch of empty lies that chip away at your happiness.

The frown deepens. “Cherry…I don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t. You don’t understand, and…and I don’t think you ever will.” You force the tears back. “We’re not the same people, Harry. It was never going to work.”

This is what crushes him. This confirmation of your differences and of the very thing he feared. That you’d reject him for being who he is.

You nearly take it all back when you see his expression soften.

“Cherry,” he tries again, “if…if I did something, I—”

“You did a lot of things,” you tell him. Deciding that the only way you’ll get through this is if you fight him at every turn. “But I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.”

His shoulders visibly droop. “I know, I…I’m just trying to make it better.”

You didn’t think it could get worse. And you want to comfort him. Want to help him understand, make him see. Have this unshakable need fix the desolate expression on his face. Kiss it away, make it better.

But you don't.

“I know,” you echo instead, offering a just hint of kindness as you place your hand on his knee. “But this is how we make it better. By letting go. And saying goodbye.”

He glances down at his leg as though your touch stings, and you retract your arm almost instantly. “You want me to say goodbye?”

No. Never. “Yes. I think it’s for the best.”

He nods once and his eyes become unfocused. As though he’s lost. Completely checked out of his own body, and it sends the knife directly into your heart.

Then, he lifts his head, and regains a moment of clarity. “I love you.”

The knife twists and the first sob breaks free. “Harry—”

“I love you, Cherry. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to take a fucking break, I…” He stops, and you can see the torment painted so perfectly across his face. “I love you. I can’t do this without you.”

And you know he won’t. You know he’ll do everything he can to bring you back. To change your mind, remind you where you belong. He’ll never let you go.

So, you do the one thing you don’t want to.

“I don’t love you,” you whisper. “I love…him.”

You’ve never seen him look so miserable.

It’s like you’ve slapped him. He leans back so fast, you’re dizzy. Putting a violent distance between your bodies until you nearly lose your breath.

He takes in a quiet inhale that’s more like a gasp, and you want to change your mind. You want to throw yourself into his arms and apologize and tell him you love him and go back to how things were only 24-hours ago. You want to pretend you never saw that look on his face.

But you can’t. You have. You said it and for all he knows, you mean it.

“You love him,” he repeats, and it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever heard. “You…no. No, you don’t love him, you…how can you love him? How…how?”

“I…I talked to him,” you lie, reaching up to swipe your knuckles across your cheek. “He’s…he’s my Jesse. He’s…I’ve always loved him. I just…I didn’t realize.”

He scoffs again, but it’s riddled with disdain and desperation. “Your Jesse.”

“Yes, my Jesse.” You don’t think your heart has ever broken this bad. “I’ve always loved him. I always will. And he…he explained, and I believe him. I’m choosing to believe him—”

“Oh, fuck that,” he nearly growls, springing onto his feet until he’s towering over you. “No, he…him? After everything he did to you, you fucking…you love him? You want to be with him?”

“Harry—”

“No. How can you…” He steels himself, and another tear falls from your eye. “You can’t love him. You can’t, I know you. Okay, I saw how you looked at him and I saw how you looked at me, and it’s not the same. You don’t love him, you’re just…you’re scared.”

He’s right, you are.

“I’m not scared, Harry, I just…I know what’s best for me,” you murmur. “And he’s what’s best.”

It tastes vile in your mouth. All of it, every lie, every false feeling, and you feel sick.

He steps back, and a part of you almost hopes he simply walks away so you won’t have to keep doing this to him. To yourself.

But maybe this is your punishment. To watch the way you ruin him as you do it.

“You can do better than him and you know it,” he nearly sneers, but it’s sad the way he speaks. “And it doesn’t have to be me, but…fuck, you have to do better than him. You deserve so much better than him, Cherry, and I don’t…I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

Your fingers twitch on your lap, anxious to reach for him. “I’m sorry.”

He only shakes his head and looks away. “Don’t be. S’my fucking fault for thinking I could do better."

“Harry—”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, but you know, undoubtedly, that he doesn’t mean it. “If you love him, then you fucking love him. I’m never gonna be able to change that.”

You feel as though you’re being ripped apart from the inside out. You’ve never experienced a pain like this before, and you imagine it’s still only a fraction of the pain he puts himself through in that ring.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and it’s enough to draw his attention back. “I never want to hurt you, Harry. I really do care about you, I just…”

He looks gutted. “You just care about him more.”

You wonder if he really believes you. You wonder if that small pull of his brows is because he’s hurt or because he knows what you’re really doing.

Either way, he steps back, and takes himself from you. Putting the first few feet of the eventual thousand between you. “It’s fine,” he murmurs once more. “I just want you to be happy, Cher. And if you’re happy with him, then…”

He can’t finish the thought. Can’t force the words between his gritted teeth, and you understand.

“Thank you,” you exhale, and your pulse begins to race. Because you know what comes next, and you aren’t quite sure you’re prepared. “And…I hope you figure everything out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, but there’s something dark in the way he speaks. Something you’re almost afraid to recognize. “I will.”

It’s ominous, but you suppose that’s all you deserve. “Right.”

He moves back even further, and you nearly collapse.

“Harry?”

He pauses, hands disappearing into his pockets as though to shield himself from you.

“Thank you,” you call quietly. “For…for everything.”

His lashes flutter, and even despite the affliction written between the lines of his face, you realize he’s never looked so beautiful. “Don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy.”

And all you can do is look down at your lap in order to shield him from the influx of tears that break free.

A moment passes of your soft hiccups and trembling hands before you hear his shoes shuffle across the concrete. He’s walking away. He’s leaving you behind. He’s saying goodbye. For good. You’ll never see him again, and he’ll never sit in that booth again, and he’ll never be your stranger ever again—

Two hands find your face. Lifting your head until you’re forced to look up and see him.

He’s here.

And he’s tugging you up onto your feet until he can hold you against his chest and really look at you. Thumbs sweeping just beneath your eyes to catch each falling tear.

Then…he kisses you.

You’ve kissed him before. Many times, in fact, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been this…heavy. Never carried the kind of meaning it does right now as he keeps you against his lips for as long as you’ll allow.

Because this is the last kiss.

You don’t want to let go. Don’t want to let him let you go. But he does all too soon and you’ve never felt so alone.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I’m so sorry I couldn’t be who you need.”

And you want to scream. Want to tell him that he is. That he’s all you’ve ever wanted.

But he’s already removing his hands from your face before you can.

And you’re forced to watch as the man that you love turns around…and walks away.

For the last time.

Next Part:

~ Outlawed*

Previous Part:

~ Reckless*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @cherryshouse @char112244 @harryscowgirl @hsbabygirl @mypolicemanharryyy @snwells @hermionelove @cherryluvhobi @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @kittenhere @nominsgirl @lovrave

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papercorgiworld · 4 months

Text

Boyfriend material: Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo tries to convince you he’s boyfriend material, but almost screws it up. Smut, so beware!

This part two. Read part one here.

Warning: piv, no protection, oral fem receiving.

Feedback is always very, very welcome.

Somewhat after midnight, you're dancing with Luna and a definitely drunk Hermoine. Pansy lets herself fall next to Mattheo who had been sitting on a couch with a drink in his hand, talking with a random piss drunk Ravenclaw. “Don’t party too hard, Matty.” Pansy can’t hide her pleased smile. Mattheo clenches his jaw, but ignores her. “You know, with an attitude like that people will start thinking something is bothering you.” The filthy grin on Pansy’s face never drops. Matheo leans back and finally looks at Pansy. “I’m not playing.” He simply states. Pansy lets out a laugh. “I know, I figured that much. Actually for the better. You couldn’t have won.” He raises an eyebrow and she elaborates. “(Y/n) is looking for a boyfriend and she doesn’t think your boyfriend material.” Mattheo’s eyes go soft as he stares at you. “I’m not boyfriend material, hm?” His question comes out so vulnerable even Pansy softens up a bit. “She wants hot sex, but also late night cuddles. She wants to lay her head on someone's shoulder and hold hands, intertwine fingers. She wants stolen kisses in the hallway between classes. Study sessions with messy make outs. Casual evenings, reading while leaning against one another. Nothing you would ever wanna settle for, right?”

You’re still dancing when an arm snakes around your waist. You turn your head, your nose almost brushes Mattheo’s. He gently pushes you against him and whispers: “Come with me.”. But he doesn’t wait for your answer. Pushing you in the direction of the exit. You make your way to the hallway, when someone tries to talk to you he grabs your wrist and drags you a little further to an empty hallway. “What’s up with you?” You ask, getting frustrated and you push him away. He licks his lips and a cocky grin spreads on his face. You're immediately intimidated and back up against a wall as he comes closer. He rests his hand against the wall and his other hand lingers near your side, but he doesn’t touch you. “Apparently you don’t think I’m boyfriend material.” He whispers in your ear. You swallow at the twisted tone in his voice. You want to protest but your mind can only think of his piercing eyes looking at you longingly. “I would like to prove you wrong.”

His face inches towards you, his perfect curly hair falls a bit forward, he’s too close for you to function properly. It really doesn’t matter if he really is boyfriend material or not. You want him and your body is screaming for any kind of touch, resulting in a soft whimpering noise rolling over your lips. For a second he smirks, enjoying what he’s already doing to you without touching you, but then again he really wants you too so his lips crash into yours. One hand reaches for your face, holding you as he kisses you passionately with a hint of hunger. His other hand pushes the small of your back, keeping you close. Your hand rests on his chest, tugging the material of his shirt urging him for more, while simultaneously intertwining your fingers in his hair, claiming as much of him as you can. His lips let go of yours, giving you a moment to breathe, but he doesn’t seem to need a break and continues kissing and sucking the flesh of your neck. When he finds your soft spot, you arch your back, unintentionally winding him up even more, and this does force him to take a moment to catch his breath. He scans over your body, pushed against his. A soft growl escapes him. He curses himself for having so little control over his hunger for you.

Mattheo’s attitude shifts and he lets out a sheepish laugh. “As part of proving to you that I’m boyfriend material, I say we take it slow.” With that he takes a step back. As his warmth leaves you, realization washes over you. What? Take it slow? Just my luck. I get Mattheo on his one day of good behavior. “What? Are you playing a game?” You blur out, “I’m going to find Enzo, at least he knows what girl needs from her boyfriend.” Mattheo’s eyes widen. You can only take one step before Mattheo is already in your way. With a confused and slightly angry expression he desperately scans your face. Woman, what do you want? I really am no boyfriend material. I have no clue what she wants. Fuck. How did I already screw this up? His shoulders drop and his face becomes so soft, it’s then that you realize he was serious about this. You smile lovingly and take a step closer. You wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t want to take it slow.” Mattheo’s signature smile returns to his face.

The walk to his dorm was filled with sloppy kisses and him squeezing your ass signaling for you to hurry up. Once in his room, he pulls his shirt over his head. Exposing a muscular Mattheo with messy hair that gently leans against the door as he locks it. He looks at you as you ever so slowly unbutton your oversized shirt, gently exposing a little more skin to Mattheo. His breath gets a little louder with each button and his hardening member is starting to twitch. When your shirt falls to the floor and you stand there in shorts and bra only, he approaches you almost touching you but for the moment only watching you. “So, if I get this boyfriend thing right, I can have you in this room, again, tomorrow?” You nod and you close the last bit of space between you two by hooking a finger behind the outline of his pants, pulling him into you. His lips leave sloppy kisses before lustfully locking with your lips, all the while you make work of undoing his pants. Your hand strokes over the bulge held by his boxers. “Fuck.” He growls, he makes quick work of your bra and pushes you onto his bed.

As he crawls over you he shamelessly stares at your breasts. “My oh my.” Is all he says before having his way with your boobs. Kneading the left one, while sucking and licking the nipple of your right breast. It’s like he’s playing an instrument, everything he does has you making noises that sound like music to his ears. He can feel himself get harder with every second. He wishes he could play with you all night, but he honestly doesn’t have the self control for it. “Matty, please.” You whine. Your legs shift, as your pussy is in desperate need of attention. He slowly kisses his way down to your shorts. When you get impatient with his teasingly slow way of taking off your shorts and panties, you slip your own hand down to your folds. “Don’t think so, love.” Mattheo says and snatches your hand to hold it in his. He crawls over to you, his lips landing on yours as his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing your hand into the sheets. “Now let me do the work.”

“You tease too much.” You say with a pout on your face. “Is that so?” His eyes never leave yours as he plays with your nipple, leaving your pussy longing. “Matty!” You whine and your only free hand thugs at his biceps signaling that he needs to move. He loves how needy you are and how whiny you get. He smirks and comes down claiming another kiss from your lips. This time his hand moves down and without teasing or warning he pushes in a finger, immediately circling your clit. Your buck your hips, fucking his finger. “Needy are we?” Mattheo taunts. “Says the guy who’s staining his boxers.” You snap back, pleased to know he is as desperate for you as you are for him. But he really is desperate, desperate to make you come so he can then mercilessly and selfishly fuck you. You squeeze your legs around his hand, finger still circling your throbbing clit, signaling how close you are. “Come on, love, open your legs for me, let me take care of you.”

The moment you open your legs, his mouth is on your folds and his tongue guides you to your release. One hand on your boob and the other holding your leg, making sure he has all the access he needs. His name leaves your mouth over and over again between moans and whines as your orgasm washes over you. You softly pull on his hair as you need him to stop pleasuring you, feeling like you’re going to explode because of the overstimulation. It’s your squirming and begging that almost push him over the edge. So when he pulls away, he keeps himself from staring at the wonderful view you are, making quick work of his last piece of clothing. You're still coming down from your high as you get to watch him pump himself a few times. “Oh, Merlin.” You blur, slightly worried about your overstimulated pussy. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll be gentle. So, may I?” He asks so politely how can I say no. You nod.

He swallows and licks his lips. “Would you mind rolling over?” A moan slips your mouth at his request, your pussy going desperate for him again. You shift your position, arching your back and giving him a perfect view of what he wanted. “Fuck. I need you.” He sighs admiring you. He slips his thick hard cock inside of your soaking wet pussy and gives you a moment to adjust, while gently stretches your walls. “You’re perfect.” Is all he manages to say before he starts thrusting into you with a steady pace. Your hands instinctively grab a hold of the sheets, enjoying how he has his way with you, enjoying how his hands again make their way to your boobs playing with your nipples and enjoying how he moans your name softly. The sounds of your bodies clashing over and over again fill the room. He quickly figures out how he needs to take you to have you begging. When you start whimpering his name, he pulls out and flips you over and fills you with his cock again. “I’m so close. I need to see your pretty face.” He explains. Your mouth hangs open as no sounds come out. He holds your face in his hand as he watches you with lustfull eyes while rutting into you hitting your sensitive spot harder each time. A pleading moan leaves your lips and you pull Mattheo close, hiding in the crook of his neck, as your walls clench around him. Letting your second orgasm wash over you. After that it only takes a few hard thrusts to have you now both reaching your high.

He lets his cock rest inside you for a few seconds loving the idea of being inside of you, of having you. Mattheo’s possessive side definitely shows as he holds you the entire night, shamelessly admiring your body, but also treating you like a goddess.

And as requested a tag for @crossedskulls 😊

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

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rafeysbafey · 6 months

Text

✮ visit from ghostface — ethan landry MDNI

summary. ghostface visits the reader on halloween

warnings. smut (obvi), degradation, rough sex, slight cnc, brief breeding kink, (TELL ME IF I FORGOR ANYTHING, i def did)

word count. 1k

🎃Happy Halloween🎃

you waited patiently for your boyfriend, texting him to come over whenever he was done with school work.

sitting on the couch scrolling through movies to watch, you mindlessly munched on the bowl of popcorn sitting on your lap.

it was a tradition for you and ethan to watch as many scary movies as possible on halloween, just enjoying each others company and pigging out on popcorn and store bought candy.

suddenly, you heard a noise come from the hallway, a "thump" sound echoing off the walls.

"eth?" you called out, huffing when you didn't get a response.

pushing yourself off the couch, you tossed the remote on the couch before making your way down the hall.

hearing another noise, you rolled your eyes at ethan's poor attempt to scare you.

you enjoyed scary movies, sure, but you weren't one to get scared easily.

your bedroom door suddenly creaked open, catching your attention as you let out an annoyed sigh, not wanting to deal with whatever ethan was up to.

"i know you're in here," you mumbled, entering the room to quickly meet a looming figure standing by your window.

he was wearing a ghostface mask and black robe.

classic.

"Is this what you were doing?" you asked, crossing your arms and tilting your head to the side.

he stood there silently. mocking you as he tilted his head as well.

"oh you think you're so funny, you want me to play along?"

ethan then nodded slowly, a small laugh falling from your lips as you shrugged your shoulders.

"please don't kill me mr.ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel."

your voice was teasing and mocked fear, followed by a giggle as you then stalked closer to ethan.

"but seriously, let's go watch the movie."

you went to take off his mask, stopping in your tracks as he quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to him, a yelp falling from your lips.

"ethan, cut it out."

he tauntingly shook his head, pulling you in so you were pressed against his chest as he bent over to whisper in your ear.

"i'm not ethan," a grainy voice spoke, sending chills down your spine as your eyes went wide.

before you could respond, you were turned around and shoved onto the bed, a yelp leaving your lips as he straddled you from behind.

"be a good girl and lay still," he spoke from above you, rutting his hips against your ass as you tried pushing him off, failing as he took your wrists and pinned them against the bed.

"my boyfriend will be here any second," you spat, not helping but bite down on your lip at the feeling of his cock pressing down on you.

"and then what?" he laughed, taking both your wrists in one hand before using the other to pull down your shorts, your underwear following.

"should we let him watch?"

"you're sick," you groaned, his fingers prodding at your entrance causing you to jolt against the feeling.

"you're pussy seems to think different," he chuckled, grainy voice deep as you shivered at the sound.

you felt him lean back over your body, his weight practically crushing you as you whimpered under him.

you saw the mask come into view, straining your neck to view him better as he leaned in close.

"try fighting when i let your wrists go, and i'll slit your throat."

your eyes widened in response, ghostface letting out an eerie laugh before letting go of your wrists, your fingers immediately running over the red skin.

before you could process what was happening next, you heard him shuffling above you, moving the robe out of the way to pull his boxers down.

you felt his cock slap against your ass, his length hard and heavy, pre cum rubbing against your skin before he moved the tip down to your entrace.

"wait-" you were cut off as he thrusted himself into you, an overwhelming feeling of pain running through you as you cried out loud.

"take it like a good girl," he groaned above you, loving the feeling of your warm walls squeezing the life out of him--he wasn't going to last long.

he started to thrust himself into you, pulling all the way out before sinking back into your tight walls, a moan dropping from both your lips at the feeling.

you felt impossibly full, tears streaking your face as the pain morphed into pleasure.

his tight balls slapped against you, his cock penetrating your insides and practically rearranging your guts as he set a brutal pace.

"fuck," you squealed, his hand coming down to wrap around your throat and yank you up, your back arching as you whimpered at the action.

"taking my cock like a slut," he cackled above you, his hips pistoning against your ass, his other hand coming down to strike it, hard.

you felt the familiar knot in your stomach start to form, his thrusts starting to get sloppy as he felt you squeeze him tight.

"cumming already?" he mocked, although he was close as well, "cum on this cock, milk my fat cock like the slut you are."

his dirty words went straight to your core, a small cry falling from your lips as you sunk into the mattress, his hand leaving your throat to grip your hips.

you felt your legs shake intensely, your walls clamping down around his cock as you released all over him, a loud moan leaving your lips.

"fuck, gonna fill you with my cum, have it drip out of you," he grunted, stilling his hips before releasing inside you, warm spurts of cum painting your walls and filling you up.

you don't know how long you laid there, taking his cum, but he was quite literally dumping himself into you.

you then felt him lean back over your body, holding himself up this time in order to not crush you.

taking his mask off, you turned to view your beautiful, fucked out boyfriend, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead as he flashed you a smile.

"how was that?" he asked, panting slightly as he leaned in to give you a soft kiss, his cock softening inside you as you hummed against him.

"perfect."

#ethan scream 6 #ethan landry angst #ethan landry fluff #yandere ethan landry #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry smut #ethan landry scream #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream 6 ethan

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justauthoring · 1 year

Text

TOKYO REVENGERS - SPENDING THE NIGHT OVER FOR THE FIRST TIME

includes: chifuyu matsuno, ken “draken” ryuguji, hakkai shiba, hanma shuji, manjiro “mikey” sano all x fem!reader

CHIFUYU wants to ask you to stay, but doesn’t know how.

The words are at the tip of his tongue, and he hesitates, eyes watching as your figure rushes to gather your things. But... he doesn’t want you to leave. That he knows, and the desperation settles in as it grows closer and closer to it being time for you to leave.

“You... You could stay.”

He’s barely registered he’s said it before he has.

And you pause at his barely uttered words, body freezing as your head turns over your shoulder so your eyes can meet his. You’ve gathered your jacket and bag, the former having only been slipped on over one shoulder.

“Sorry?”

Your voice is light, airy. A warmth to it that still, to this day makes Chifuyu’s heart flutter and his stomach to flood with butterflies because how was it possible you could sound so... inviting? So warm? He feels his insides melt when you talk to him and he just wants to fiddle away into a puddle because he loves hearing your voice so much.

“Stay,” he repeats, forcing down his own nerves and letting the word echo in the silence for a moment before adding; “I’d like you to stay.”

Your bag slips to the floor and you turn, facing Chifuyu properly. “You want me to spend the night?”

He nods, eager.

“Really?”

And there’s bright grin on your face now, slipping off your jacket as you make your way over to him. Chifuyu’s blushing while he nods, still unable to form proper words, face turned beat red at your light teasing, but doesn’t resist when you fall next to him on his bed, giggling.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you admit. “I really didn’t wanna leave.”

Setting a hand on your back, Chifuyu hums; “didn’t want you to leave.”

You giggle, “I’m that great at cuddling, huh?”

And he says so without hesitance, a trace of doubt as he nods down at you; “the best.”

DRAKEN says the words plainly;

“You should just spend the night.”

And the words are so blunt, so matter of fact, that you almost give yourself whiplash as you spin to face him. Wide eyes falling on him as your lips part to say something, but hesitate because you’re not even sure what to say.

Maybe a part of you had hoped he asked, gone super slow while gathering your things, but you hadn’t expected it to be that easy.

“You want me to?” You ask softly, struggling to find your voice.

Draken nods, “of course. It’s about time.”

You were hoping for a little more but still -- was better then nothing.

“The girls won’t mind?”

He shrugs, “they already love you. It just sucks that we’ll mostly have to hang out in here.” He gestures around himself at his bedroom, a slight pout on his lips as he does.

You grin at that, “that’s what we do most of the time when I visit, Kenny.”

“Yeah, I know. Just sucks.”

Leaning forward, you grab Draken’s hand, squeezing it tightly in your own. “You know I don’t care as long as I get to be with you, Ken,” and then, you pause. Unsure. “You’re positive you want me staying? I don’t want to intrude on your--”

“Stupid,” he huffs lightly, the insult teasing as he smirks, “you’re not intruding if it’s you. Plus, I’m the one who asked you to stay.”

“I know,” you nod, “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Come ‘ere,” he urges, ushering you towards him with a wave of his hand. You listen easily, letting yourself fall into his grip as his hand falls to your back, guiding you on top of his chest as he leans back on his bed. The two of you settle in comfortably then, with Draken’s hand resting on your back. “Been wanting to ask ya for a while.”

“Oh,” you mumble, unable to fight the smile on your lips; “yeah?”

“Yeah. Last time you came over, I wanted to. Got too scared though.”

You think back to how heavily Draken had pouted last time you’d come over and eventually, had to leave. It was unlike Draken to act like that, and you remember it both being endearing but entirely too hilarious to not tease him.

Maybe if you hadn’t teased him, he would’ve asked.

“Sorry,” you offer, letting your hand fall on his chest, next to your head.

“Not your fault,” he dismisses easily, “been wanting to ask for a while. Been to chicken-shit. Glad I got the courage this time though. I... I like having you in my arms.”

“I like being in your arms, Kenny.”

HAKKAI is positive he sounds like a bumbling fool.

“Would... Would you...--I mean, you don’t have to but I would like you--don’t feel pressure though--”

Laughing, you shake your head. Making your way over to Hakkai, you set your hands on his arms, looking up at him as he finally stops his rambling to stare down at you. “Calm down,” you soothe gently, “what is it?”

Red in face and feeling entirely like an idiot, Hakkai huffs.

“I wanted to know if you’d... like to spend the night.”

And his voice is so small, so unsure that it almost breaks your heart how nervous he is to ask you something. Let alone something like that.

Something you’d never reject.

So, smiling brightly, you grin, eyes twinkling; “I’d love to.”

He blinks at that, as if having already expected a rejection. The embarrassment wipes from his face as his lips part, staring back at you; “really?”

“Of course,” you laugh, “why wouldn’t I?”

Pausing, Hakkai hesitates at that -- because really, why wouldn’t you? It wasn’t like this was the first time you’ve come over to his house and you guys have been dating long enough for something like this to be more normal...

“I dunno,” he admits finally, “just didn’t want you to think you had to.”

“Well, I don’t,” you shrug, letting your hands fall by your side as you grin up at him. “And I’d love to spend the night. Didn’t wanna go home anyways.”

“Oh?” Hakkai frowns, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

You can’t help but feel giddy at his concern, how despite how embarrassed and nervous he was seconds ago, it all faded away the second he thought something might be wrong. It warmed your heart in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever expected before.

“Everything’s totally fine,” you assure him, “I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

And of course, Hakkai’s face goes beat red, again, at that.

HANMA finds the morphed expression of surprise and indignation on your face absolutely hilarious.

“Shu,” you say, voice firm, “let me go.”

Keeping his arms locked firmly around your waist, Hanma simply shakes his head. It didn’t help that he had such long arms, that of which could easily wrap themselves around you entirely, or the fact that he easily had the strength to keep you there as well.

Glaring up at your boyfriend, you huff; “I need to go home. it’s getting late.”

Hanma just shakes his head, a fact that causes you to growl in annoyance, before he grins wide; “just spend the night.”

Pausing, your entire body freezes in his grasp; “what?”

“I don’t want you to leave, so spend the night.”

And it sinks in then.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

The ever say shit-eating grin on his face, Hanma all but cackles, head thrown back in amusement at the fact that you know him so well. “Of course,” he concedes with ease, “never planned on letting you leave. Even if you want to.”

“That’s kidnapping.”

“You’re my girlfriend.”

“Still kidnapping.”

Quirking a brow, Hanma glances down at you; “you don’t want to spend the night?”

Cheeks warming, you huff; “n-no, I do.” Pouting, you turn your gaze away from him, “you just could’ve asked me first.”

“Y/N/N.”

Turning back to Hanma at the suddenly serious tone of his voice, you pause, concerned.

“Would you like to spend the night?”

Instantly that concern goes right out the window.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“Regrettably.”

But both of you know you don’t really mean that.

MIKEY is absolutely confused when he sees you moving to leave.

“What’re you doing?”

Baffled, you turn to Mikey, head tilted; “getting ready to leave?”

And his words make him frown, that ever familiar pout falling on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. He slumps back against his bed like a little kid, and huffs. “I thought you were spending the night.”

It takes you a moment to process what he’s said. And the fact that he says it as if you were the one being crazy here.

Raising a brow, you glance around yourself, trying to collect your thoughts, before turning back to the child you have for a boyfriend. “You never asked me to?”

He just shrugs; “I thought it was obvious.”

“Um, no. It wasn’t.”

He perks up then, as if all was solved now that you knew you just hadn’t (somehow) caught up with the obvious.

“Oh, well, then, perfect.” Turning, he moves to grab the manga the two of you hand been reading together, before facing you once again. “Come on, I wanna see what happens next.”

Shaking your head, you jerk back; “I still need to leave?”

“You’re spending the night,” Mikey says bluntly, “I thought we covered that already.”

“We didn’t,” you huff, letting your bag fall to the ground as you turn to face Mikey fully. “I didn’t bring anything to spend the night and I’ll need to let my mom--”

“Oh, yeah,” Mikey agrees, moving to a stand, letting the manga fall back to the bed behind him. “I’ll get you something to wear and you call your mom, okay?”

He grins at you, pecking your cheek softly before moving to his closet, all whilst you continue to stand there like an idiot.

“Y/N?” Mikey calls after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Your mom?”

When you glance back at him, he’s staring back at you expectantly.

It still doesn’t click in what exactly happened even as you fall asleep in Mikey’s arms later that night.

#tokrev #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #mikey #draken #draken x reader #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader #ken ryuguji #ken ryuguji x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #chifuyu matsuno #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji #hakkai shiba #hakkai shiba x reader

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loveliestlovelygirl · 1 month

Text

play for me

pianoteacher!anakin x student!reader

synopsis: mr. skywalker asks you to play the piano for him. only this time, he wants you to sit in his lap.

w.c: 0.9k+

warnings!! {minors dni} age gap, power imbalance, cockwarming, gentle dom!anakin, sub!reader, fem!reader

inspired by this ask

The humored grin Mr. Skywalker wears as he opens the door for you tells you he’s not exactly surprised that you show up on his doorstep this weekend. He pats you on the head and moves back to allow you in his home.

“Already missing me?” he teases, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

You hold your hands behind your back and bite your lip as you nod. Your heart suddenly quickens when he steps toward you, closing the gap.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. As he holds you, he presses the side of his face to his chest and his chin rests on your head. “How’s college going? I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“Really?” You wanted to say why haven’t you, but this wasn’t the time. And you think you know why. It’s probably for the same reason why you didn’t reach out to him. You’re doubting things.

It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him. So, his lack of calling you might be meaningless. You came back to remind him of what you want.

He takes your coat and hangs it up for you. “Every night I’m missing you. I-I just figured... you might be busy.”

You grab his hands and slot your fingers between his. “That’s not true.”

Anakin turns to hide his face. “Have you thought about... us?”

Hearing him say us melted you. Does he know that you’re all his? Only his. You belong to him. He’s the one you gave everything to. He’s seen, touched, and kissed every inch of your body. He’s been inside you. Why is he acting... hesitant?It’s so unlike him.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” you say. “I drove home to see you.”

The grin that builds on his lips is smug. “Oh. So, mommy and daddy don’t know you’re here?”

You shake your head, feeling almost humiliated by the infantilizing way he asked you that. The fact that you liked it unnerves you even more.

“Good,” he starts pulling you by the hand into the parlor. “You’re not gonna have time to see them anyway.”

“Why?” you ask, feeling stupid for not knowing the answer.

He chuckles. “You’re going to be spending every minute with me, angel.”

You jump on him to hug him. You squeeze tightly. Inhaling hard, you drown in his familiar scent. You’ve missed him so much you could almost cry.

“Play for me?” he asks, then kisses the top of your head. He lifts the lid of the white grand piano. He says that because he knows it will make you feel better.

With your body against his and the bottom of your chin pressed against his chest, you look up at him. “Of course. I’ve been working on something new.”

He plops down on the bench first. “I wanna hear it.”

Holding onto his hand, you step around and smooth the back of your little spring dress down. But before you make contact with the cushion, Anakin grabs your hips and forces you down onto his lap.

Your eyes instinctively enlarge, you fight against him at first. “What’re you—”

He turns you to the side and grabs the back of your neck to shut you up with a kiss. The way his mouth defiles you as his tongue pushes past your lips instantly relaxes you. Closing your eyes, you hold onto him and give into him completely. It’s like he knew this was what you needed to break the uncomfortable tension. You couldn’t help it though. For the last few weeks, you worried that he lost interest.

Yet the hand that ascends the length of your thigh puts your fears to rest. And his lips reveal that you’re still the object of his obsessive desires.

You feel his fingers invade and create a space between you and the crotch of your panties. In one motion, he swipes them from your legs and sets them to the side. Come to think of it... he never returned the last pair he ripped from your body. For a moment, you consider the perverted reasons he held your favorite panties captive.

Surprisingly, your teacher’s hand leaves you wanting. You expected him to finger you. You’d be grateful just to be edged. You’ve missed him. And when he breaks the kiss, the ache of being left unsatisfied builds.

You know he sees the disappointment on your face.

“Stand up for me?” He helps you to his feet.

With your back to him, you hear him fiddling with something. You glance over your shoulder to see his leather belt removed from his pants and dangling in his hand. There’s no question where this is leading, especially hearing him unzip.

No words between you, he grabs your hips once more and pulls you down on him, this time guiding his cock inside your pussy. You’re already slick just for him. The hours and hours, days and days of waiting left you always on edge. Sometimes, just thinking about him was enough to turn you on.

With his length fully seated inside you, he hugs you close to him. His lips brush against your ear. “Are you comfortable?”

Both of you are completely still. Your face is hot... and so is the rest of your body. Your heart beat is a little quicker than normal, but that’s only because you feel so close to him. When he’s inside you, all you feel is contentment and pleasure because everything you could want is in your grasp.

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

He nuzzles the side of your neck. “Good. Are you going to show me what you’ve been working on, angel?”

“Right now?” You look over your shoulder. “Like this.”

“Yeah,” he shifts his hips, and the new, deeper angle makes you shiver, “exactly like this.”

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#divider by chilumitos #best viewed in dark mode :)#loveliestlovelygirl #lovely fics #pianoteacher!anakin #student!reader #anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x fem!reader #anakin oneshot

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psychedelic-ink · 11 months

Text

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free.

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour.

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the?

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving.

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?”

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.”

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome.

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing?

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?”

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment.

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.”

No, he won’t.

He knows it. You know it.

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.”

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch.

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.”

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication.

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?”

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag.

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts.

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down.

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit.

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut.

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.”

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon.

“I can see that.”

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over.

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?”

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.”

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought.

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better.

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?”

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless.

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound.

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still.

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer.

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was.

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best.

That was until he did show up.

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be.

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you.

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him.

“What do you need?”

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing.

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.”

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?”

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with.

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care.

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.”

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him.

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.”

“I won’t.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily. You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating.

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?” With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls.

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein.

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .”

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head.

“And take. . .”

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want.

“And take. . .”

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake.

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust.

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy.

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him.

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?”

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over.

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.”

Miguel is a man of his word.

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time.

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name.

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming in heavy pants.

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him.

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down.

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.”

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin.

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains.

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”

You can’t answer.

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out.

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty.

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes.

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs.

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for.

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more.

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