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chaoticbardlady99 · 4 months

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Pinkie Promise? (Astarion x F! reader) MDNI 18+

Author note- this is specifically for @spitfireunhinged who wrote a beautiful little post with a concept that I adored. I hope I did it justice and you enjoy!

CW- NSFW, mentions of SA

Synopsis- You tell Astarion that you don’t think sex is as good as people say it is. Astarion is determined to prove you wrong.

*not my pic. Please let me know if it is yours so I can give credit

I rewrote this like 7 times. This draft is lightly edited, but I couldn’t wait to post it!

Part 2: I Triple Dog Dare You

Astarion had heard the phrase “pinky promise” before. It was usually between Leon and Victoria before Leon left for a hunt. She always made Leon pinkie promise that he would come home and Leon always swore it- his pinkie hooked with hers.

The whole thing made Astarion vomit, but he thought it was just a “them” thing since he had never heard it before.

Then you used it on him and he had hurt your feelings terribly. He had called you a child and then proceeded to mock you.

You had just smiled at him sweetly like you usually do, apologized for invading his space, and for crossing his boundaries.

When Astarion had come by an hour or two later to drop off a book he ‘borrowed’ (it was his book, but he wanted an excuse to talk to you again), he heard you sniffling and asking Karlach if you were a child. You were so upset by his judgment because you like him as a person and thought the two of you were friends. Karlach said that some people just aren’t capable of being nice.

Astarion found you after Karlach went to sleep and pinkie promised to never call you a child again (and that he doesn’t think you are a child).

Suddenly, it was your thing and it slowly became more enduring as time went on. A part of him was envious if Karlach or Gale offered you the gesture first and you would give them one of your breathtaking smiles. He wishes he could initiate it, but it feels far too intimate to him. Asking someone to promise him something? Perish the thought! No one can truly be trusted. Well- maybe you can be trusted.

Astarion doesn’t know when he became so infatuated with you and your existence. Maybe it was that first night at camp when the two of you got to know each other a little bit better. You hadn’t been able to sleep because you were struggling to adjust to the new environment. You asked him lots of questions that he honestly had struggled to answer, but you were actually interested in him- not just his body.

Astarion was beginning to crave your presence and he despised sharing it with anyone else. One time he even went as far as making you pinkie promise you wouldn’t kiss Gale when he had called you over. You had scoffed and said that is ridiculous because “Gale would not kiss you ever, yuck!” , but did it anyway.

Low and behold- Gale did not get his kiss. He’s tried since, but you have rejected his advances. Astarion likes to think it’s because you like him more- want him more.

So maybe that’s why he was quick to drag you away from the Tiefling party after you had made your rounds- not wanting to watch you be with another person a second longer. You let him take your hand and you giggle as he chastises you for taking so long to talk to everyone else.

“How dare my self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ spend so much time not in my presence!” Astarion melodramatically states, “I am hurt, Darling. I thought we had something special.”

You blow air out of your mouth with an eye roll and smile at him.

“Well of course we do,” you say matter of factly, “but I also knew the minute I went to talk to you that I wouldn’t talk to anyone else.

“I’m the fearless leader!” You say with emphasis, “Leader of the Freakshow- welcome one and all to the most traumatized individuals alive!”

Astarion’s chest bursts with laughter, “how very on the nose of you, my Dear.”

“I must keep all of us humble, my Sweet,” you say boldly.

He tsks at you and twirls you around, “I’m afraid you aren’t allowed to steal my lines- that is going to cost you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Certainly.”

“Name your price.”

Astarion pauses- right now doesn’t feel like the moment to go full throttle. He has more work to do.

“I need time to think,” he says lewdly, “there are so many things I could ask for, after all.”

You hum in agreement and smile at him coyly.

Maybe it’s because you are the first person he has actively sought out since he has been released from Cazador’s grasp.

Astarion guides you to a spot in the meadow he had found earlier. Well- actually he had followed Gale to it earlier- Astarion just found an even better spot like 10 yards away.

Gale had stupidly announced to Wyll around the campfire that he was going to ask to spend time with you alone tonight.

There was immediately not a chance in hells that that was going to happen. Gale found a nice spot in the forest- Astarion found a better one. Gale brought a blanket and wine? Pfft, Astarion can do that.

You stop in front of the blanket and wine before you look at him- a nice blush running up your neck.

“Is this for-?” You seem surprised.

Which Astarion finds very interesting considering you are from Noble society- shouldn’t you be used to being courted? Astarion is almost certain you’d have at least a hundred suitors.

“For you?” He smiles charmingly, “well of course, only the best for you, my Dear.”

You duck your head and you blush even harder. Astarion guides you to sit with him. You both drink the wine and talk. You ask him questions about himself and he asks plenty about you.

Astarion isn’t sure when the conversation turns into talking about sex- that had always been the original intention of the conversation.

“Sex can’t possibly be all that great.”

“Pardon?”

You shrug your shoulders and slightly slur the sentence again with emphasis.

“Sex can’t possibly be all that great.”

Astarion is shocked to his core. You flirt back and forth with him as if you’ve bedded at least a couple men.

“You’ve never?”

“No.”

“How?”

You look at him with a puzzled expression. You are staring at him as if he’s grown a second head.

Hypocrite. You’re the one spewing none sense!

“How?” You state incredulously, “you have looked at me right?”

Oh yes and I’ve imagined fucking you until you are screaming my name, but that’s beside the point I suppose.

“I’m nothing much to look at. I’m always the friend- never the girlfriend or the lover or whatever!” You emphasize with your hands, “no one has ever felt that way about me and if they have- they’ve never gone for it so I assume it’s just not that much fun.”

Astarion feels like he’s dying all over again. That was your assumption? Not that you might be horrifically oblivious because he’s only tried to to get in your chance several times. One time he quite literally asked you to come to his bed that night and you showed up with a book.

“Darling,” Astarion’s exasperation obvious, “I’ve been trying to have sex with you for a couple weeks now. Probably even more than that at this point.”

You stare at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

“You,” you stammer, “you want to? With me? No way.”

You laugh nervously, “you are beautiful and intelligent and-“

“No, no way.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow at you and smiles seductively. Your lips part slightly as he pushes you on your back and parts your legs with his knee.

Your arms automatically wrap around his neck- your pupils blown wide with lust. Astarion kisses to the left and right of your lips- grinning when he hears your huff in frustration.

“You sure do keen a lot for someone who doesn’t think sex could possibly be ‘that good’, Darling,” Astarion coos, you tighten your lips in embarrassment.

Astarion rolls his eyes at you and cups your face while putting his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You hum with pleasure and peer at him through hooded eye lids. Astarion feels his cock strain against his pants

“So, my Dear,” Astarion drawls, “do you want me to fuck you? Would you like to see all the bliss you are missing out on?”

You nod eagerly and Astarion presses his thigh against your growing heat. You whine around his thumb and you run your tongue against his skin.

Fuck.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” He asks hotly.

You nod- Astarion can smell your arousal and feel it seeping through both of your pants.

“Pinkie promise?” He says teasingly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth to hold out his pinkie.

You hook your pinkie with his and whisper, “pinkie promise.”

Astarion pulls you in for a mind numbing kiss- caressing your lips with his until you are keeping up with his pace. He feels your arms around his neck pull him in deeper.

Your kiss against his lips is sweet and intoxicating- for a second he completely forgets about the purpose of the evening. Astarion could sit here and just kiss you like this until the sun comes up.

Your breathing hitches and Astarion watches as you desperately try to find release by riding his thigh- your movements erratic and wanting. The sounds you are making fill him with excitement and for the first time in a while- he’s actually eager to be inside someone.

He realizes your moaning has become muffled all of a sudden and he looks up to find you covering your mouth- your cheeks and ears are bright red while you pant with arousal.

Astarion laces his fingers through yours and holds your hands down on either side of your head- your pupils are blown wide from lust. The galloping of your heart is like music to his ears.

“Oh no,” he whispers seductively, “do not keep those delicious moans of yours from me, Darling. You promised to be good, remember?”

“Y-yes,” you say between heavy breaths- this time you are the one to surprise him by closing the space between the two of you with a needy kiss.

Astarion unlaces his fingers from yours as he begins unlacing your trousers- quickly discarding them to reveal your soaked underclothes. He growls involuntarily as the smell of your arousal hits the back of his throat- you smell incredible.

Astarion could leave it at just taking your pants off for now, but Gods does he want to see more and if you are willing to let him, then he is not going to deny himself the pleasure of being able to touch and kiss every inch of your body.

Your shirt is next and you don’t even fight it- helping him get the article of clothing off and helping him discard his shirt as well. Astarion stops and looks down upon your naked form.

“Gods you are exquisite,” Astarion says as he begins to kiss down your naval, “open your legs for me, Darling.”

He leaves tiny love bites as he goes- wanting to make sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to. You are a whimpering mess underneath his touch as he presses his fingers to your clothed clit- teasing you slowly.

“Asta-“

You are cut off by your own sounds of pleasure leaving your throat as he slips your underwear off- slowly pushing one finger into you while playing with your clit using his tongue. A string of curse words leaves your mouth as he begins to pick up the pace with his fingers and basks in the way pleasure looks on your face, how your body is writhing for him, and the tumbling praises for him echo through the clearing.

He rolls your sensitive nub between his teeth and he has to hold your hips down as you keen underneath his touch. Astarion adds a second finger- still meeting some resistance, but you aren’t stopping him, in fact- you are giving him complete access using your tadpole right now (intentionally or not) and he can feel how desperate you are to feel fuller. Then he adds the second fingers and the euphoria that rings through your body goes straight to his groan. Astarion can feel his cock straining against his pants as he brings you over the edge with his fingers and mouth- your sweet pleasure dripping down his chin and his fingers. He languidly cleans his fingers off with his mouth, humming in delight while making eye contact with you.

Your eyes are half lidded and glassy- your mouth is slightly parted open. He leans forward and leaves a chaste kiss on them and begins unlacing his own pants- slipping them off and throwing them to the side- his underwear quickly following.

Astarion lines himself up with your entrance- your orgasm coating the head of his cock and he has to fight the urge to slam into you right away. He lines himself up with your entrance- teasing you. You look more nervous now than lustful and Astarion feels his gaze soften. He hovers over you and caresses the side of your face with his thumb. The last thing he wants is to start with you in the wrong headspace.

"Wrap your legs around my waist."

You obediently comply- your back slightly arching and your pert nipples are touching his chest. You sigh in arousal at the contact.

“This may hurt a little,” he says, “we can stop whenever or however much you need- we can stop completely and try again another time even.

“But do you want me to continue?”

You smile up at him with relief and nod coyly.

“I trust you, but please go slow,” you whisper.

Astarion feels a tightness in his chest when you look up at him. Your eyes are so vulnerable and of all the people you’ve decided to trust you chose him. Astarion is fighting not to dissociate- wanting to give you his full attention.

Astarion slowly begins to push inside you. You cry out and clutch at his shoulders- taking a sharp breath as he slowly sheaths himself inside you. Astarion has to fight the want- no need to go faster- you are so damn tight and Astarion is almost wondering if he should have done more foreplay.

He rocks in and out of you- making sure to check on your facial expressions. There are tears pricking your eyes, but your look of discomfort is becoming more and more euphoric as he keeps rolling his hips into you gently.

“Hells darling,” Astarion manages to moan out through clenched teeth, “you feel so fucking good.”

You whimper at his praise and Astarion lifts you up by the hips so he can get a better angle. He thrusts a minuscule harder this time and the whimper that leaves your mouth is making him feel positively feral.

“Astarion,” you whine, “ple- please I need more.”

You definitely don’t have to tell him twice. Astarion snaps himself up into you at a faster pass- your keening only encouraging him to go faster- both of you moaning and gasping while clawing at each other. For the first time in the last 200 years- Astarion does not want to stop. Despite the feelings that are always there, this may be the only time he’s actually experienced bliss while being with someone.

"Such a good little pup, aren't you?"

You clench around him at his words, you beg him to fuck you harder, and he drops your hips back to the ground before putting his face into the crook of your neck- kissing and praising you as you ride out your high.

“You were such a good girl for me,” he breathes into your air, “thank you.”

Your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging his lips to yours. If he needed air, the kiss would have suffocated him from how intense and wanting it was- the air between the both of you feels alive and Astarion barely registers that he’s finishing inside you until he’s collapsed on top of you- his head resting on your chest as it races in time with your breathing.

“That was amazing,” you say breathlessly and Astarion can’t help but laugh.

“I told you so.”

You plafully slap his arm and laugh- the sound filling his body with comfort. He can hear your heart beat begin to slow down and your breathing becomes deeper.

“Thank you Astarion,” you say sleepily, dozing off with your hands teasing his curls, “not just for this- for everything. I feel worth something when I’m with you.”

You yawn and Astarion tries to focus on the sound instead of the twisting guilt in his stomach. He cares for you too and that might be where he fucked up.

Your breathing quickly evens out and he is drowning in the smell of sex and rose water- a scent he heavily associates with you. Astarion stays there with his head on top of your chest- trying to get his bearings together. That was like no other sexual encounter he has experienced before- it was blissful- so why the hell is he about to have the melt down of the century?

“Shit,” you jolt awake, accidentally pushing Astarion off you- your eyes are still glassy “sorry I should probably not just fall asleep here- I’m sure you want to get back to your tent…”

Astarion pulls you back down and against his chest as if it’s exactly where you belong. The idea of you leaving right now makes his soul twist painfully. No, he needs you to stay. Existing is easier with you around- it has been since he met you on the beach.

“Stay,” he whispers, “please.”

There is a pause and he worries he may have overstepped his bounds. You look up at him with sleepy, kind eyes. If peace were to have a face- it would be yours.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” You smile at him sweetly.

The word leaves his mouth before he can stop himself, “pinkie promise?”

You give him the biggest, toothiest grin he has ever seen. Astarion is certain you may be the single most beautiful person he’s ever met.

You take his pinky in yours and then place a soft kiss against his cold lips.

As you pull away, you whisper against his mouth, “I pinky promise.”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav

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morbific-or-felicific · 11 months

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-AGNOSTHESIA Featuring Scaramouche

Part 2 Part 3

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 3.5k~

Description: A study session with Scaramouche gets spicy

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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“Are you deaf or just stupid? I’ve been explaining this to you for over an hour. How do you not understand?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! This class is just really hard, and I haven’t really been able to understand anything from the last few lectures. It's all just gotten so complicated.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be your major? Why did you pick something challenging if you’re too stupid to understand any of it?”

“I’m not too stupid! It’s just a challenging class!”

“Why did you beg me to tutor you if you were just going to waste my time?”

You didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong, nearly every study session the two of you have had ended with an incredibly frustrated Scaramouche and an equally confused you. It’s not that you weren’t trying. You paid attention the best that you could in lectures, and you did all the readings. You even used up most of your free time studying! But regardless, you were still hopeless.

Of course, having Scaramouche as a tutor was supposed to make things easier; he was at the top of the class, after all. However, it almost made things more difficult, given the fact that during your study sessions you were constantly getting distracted by how pretty the man was and how close the two of you were to your bed. You probably enjoyed the insults he threw at you due to your lack of understanding just a bit too much too. But no way would you ever admit to that.

~♡~

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. It was 1:45pm. Your class started at 1:00pm. This was not good. You burst through the doors, immediately drawing everyone's attention and making your professor stop mid sentence. You were mortified. On this particular occasion, you had spent all night studying before dragging yourself to your school's library to continue studying. You had planned to spend your morning studying before your lecture at 1:00pm. You had not planned to fall asleep until 1:25pm and have to run to a whole other building to get to your lecture. You had been spending all your time trying to keep up with your peers in your astrobiology course, but it appears that plan had backfired, as you had already missed half of your class and would need to beg someone for their notes, perhaps an explanation as well. You looked around for a seat, quickly realizing that the only easily accessible spot was near the back next to Scaramouche. Fuck. Scaramouche was the best student in the class, but he was also notoriously unapproachable and impossible to work with. You had been stuck doing a group project with him before, and he had been a controlling nightmare. Ever since then though, he had occasionally spoken to you if you came close enough to insult. You took a deep breath, swallowed your fear, and started up the stairs. The class had continued on in the moments since your interruption, so you didn’t expect Scaramouche to be staring directly at you when you glanced at him on your way to your spot beside him. You looked away and got to your seat as quickly as you could.

“Well, if it isn’t the smartest girl in class.”

You fought the urge to insult him back, but you knew that if you wanted to get any help from him, you couldn’t risk giving him a reason not to help you. You gave him the nicest smile you could muster; he rolled his eyes at your attempt to be nice. You sat down next to him and set up your computer to take notes for the rest of class. After another half hour had passed and you were hopelessly confused, you turned to Scaramouche to ask him for some help.

“Hey, uh, I’m pretty lost; do you think you could give me the notes you took for the first half of the class?”

“Do you really think that’ll help you? It’s not like you even understand the lectures you don’t miss.”

“I understand them!”

“Yeah, sure.”

He turned his attention back to the professor. That’s when you had an idea that might actually work.

“Hey, do you have any spare time that you could maybe use to help me with the work from this class?"

“Do you really think that I would willingly spend my free time tutoring you? Why on earth would I do that?”

You took a deep breath, silently praying that this would work.

“If you agree to tutor me, I’ll give you Kazuha’s number.”

“You’ll what?”

Yes! He was interested.

“I’ll give you Kazuha’s number, and I’ll put in a good word for you with him.”

“Kazuha? As in Kaedehara? Are you serious?”

He was just staring at you, looking very serious. Clearly, this was important to him.

“Yes, I promise.”

Scaramouche chuckled to himself a little before sighing.

“Okay. Text me where your dorm is. I’ll tutor you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays.”

“I uh…don’t have your number.”

“You don’t? I have yours.”

“Yeah that’s because I gave it to you. Just text me and I’ll send you my building and room number, okay?”

“Fine.”

You sighed. Why did he have to be gay?

A few moments later, you got a text that said, “Hey loser”. You sent him your dorm information and a list of what times on those days you were free. And just like that, you had a tutor.

When you eventually talked to Kazuha about Scaramouche and how you had given him his number, Kazuha seemed confused, but after an oddly long stare behind you and a glance at his phone, he seemed to understand what you were trying to tell him.

~♡~

“Are you really this stupid? Or do you just like it when I insult you?”

“I’m not stupid! And don’t pretend like you aren’t getting anything out of this!”

“Right, I get to have you meddling in my love life. How could I forget?”

“You agreed to this! I didn’t make you do anything!”

“No, you just gave me an opportunity to spend time with the person I have feelings for, but only if I spend all my free time trying to teach an idiot her major.”

“I’m not an idiot! Stop saying that!”

“You can’t expect me to sit here and watch you screw things up I didn’t think anyone could possibly screw up and not insult you. You’re practically begging for it.”

You huffed a frustrated sigh and went back to your work while your tutor sat there on his phone. How was all of this so easy for him when you could barely understand any of it? You were working so hard but had nothing to show for it except for low grades and a tutor who is the furthest thing from being into you, who also somehow kept getting you all worked up and needy. Part of you wanted to just tell him to stop coming over so you could get through a study session without getting sexually frustrated. However, you also didn’t want to stop spending time with him…because, uh, because Scaramouche was helping you improve! Not for any other reason. Oh nevermind, who were you trying to fool? You definitely had feelings for him, even though you knew they would never be reciprocated. It wasn’t long before you reached another question that stumped you.

“I’m confused.”

“What else is new?”

“Shut up. Can you help me?”

He stared at you and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something. You sighed.

“Please?”

“What’s the question?”

“What is a carbonaceous chondrite?”

“Have you been paying any attention in class? At all?”

“I-”

Scaramouche cut you off.

“Even if you aren’t paying attention in class, you have my notes, and you’ve been asking me endless questions. Wait, I forgot. You’re just an idiot.”

“I’m not an-!”

Once again, he cut you off.

“No, you are. At this point, I’m not even trying to insult you. It’s just a fact.”

“Why?! What did I do that was so dumb?!”

“Do you really want to know?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you remember how you convinced me to be your tutor? Of course you do. You gave me Kazuha’s number. Do you want to know why he was so confused when you told him that? Because I’ve known him since I was a kid; we’re best friends. He only went along with it because I had followed you and was a ways behind you trying to get him to check his messages because I had to send him a text explaining that the girl I have feelings for thinks I’m gay and in love with him, and since he knows how dumb you are, he went along with it for my sake. I honestly thought that you would have figured it out by how nice I’ve been to you ever since we did that project together.”

You couldn’t believe it. Scaramouche has a crush on you, maybe even for as long as you’d had a crush on him. And oh my god you were stupid; he was best friends with Kazuha? How had you missed that?! Oh god, that means Kazuha knew you were stupid too…how did you even make such a big mistake?

“You…like me…? And you’re best friends with Kazuha…? What do you mean you’ve been nice to me ever since our project? You insult me all the time! Even before you started tutoring me, you were mean to me!”

“I talked to you. As far as I’m concerned, that’s nice enough. Anyway, I guess I should be going now huh?”

“Wait uh, you don’t have to go.”

“Oh? Maybe you do like it when I insult you, hm?”

“That isn’t important. I just need you to stay because you promised to tutor me, and I still need help.”

That gave Scaramouche an idea.

“Huh, maybe you just need better motivation to learn…”

He smirked at you before standing up from his spot on your bed and closing the little distance there was from where he had been sitting and where you were seated at your desk. He turned your spinny chair to face him and leaned down so his face was in front of yours and flicked your forehead.

“Hey, dummy, want me to fuck you?”

He laughed quietly at your slack jawed reaction. He stood back to his full height and sat back down on your bed. He gestured for you to come sit on his lap. You stared at him blankly, confident that you had misinterpreted his action.

“Come on now. You’re not really this stupid, are you?”

That was enough confirmation for you. You stood up from your chair and were about to sit down on his lap when he stopped you.

“Take off your clothes.”

He didn’t exactly leave any room for argument, so, as embarrassed as you were, you started taking off your clothes while Scaramouche watched you. You got down to your underwear and stopped, unsure if he wanted you to continue.

“Go on.”

Okay then. You took off your bra and your underwear, now feeling awkward with your tutor sitting in front of you fully clothed. He motioned you forward again and you sat down on his lap. He moved a hand between your legs and ran a finger down your slit before laughing.

“You’re so wet already, I guess you liked those insults more than you let on.”

His comment somehow turned your face redder than it already was. You would have made some kind of argument, however, you suddenly became preoccupied with the feeling of him pushing two of his fingers inside of you and fucking you with them. You couldn’t help but let out a few moans at the feeling. He snickered at the sounds you were making, even going so far as to mock the sound of your moans.

“‘Mmf ah oh fuck mmm haah,’ you sound so pathetic.”

You tried to quiet the sounds you were making, but that only made him more upset.

“Don’t stop. I like hearing you whining like a bitch in heat.”

He pulled his fingers out of you then pushed them past your lips and into your mouth. While you cleaned off his fingers like a good little slut, he used his other hand to undo his pants and pull out his cock. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and lined you up over his cock before bringing you down onto it. You heard him suck in a breath and let out a chuckle.

“Hah, shit, you feel good.”

You could only let out a whine in response. He bottomed out inside of you. After you took a few moments to adjust, you tried to lift yourself up, but found you couldn’t move an inch with the tight grip your tutor had on your hips.

“Wha…?”

“You said that you needed me to stay to tutor you, so, I’m here to tutor you.”

Was he seriously going to try to tutor you while he had you sitting on his cock? No, this couldn’t actually be happening.

“But…but I can’t…”

“You will. I’m just giving you some extra motivation.”

He smirked at you once again.

“What role do supernovae play in the origin, evolution, and development of life?”

You couldn’t think. You were far too preoccupied with the feeling of his cock deep inside of you.

“I don’t… I don’t know, I can’t…”

“Come on, you answered this correctly last week.”

Had you? Part of you thought he was lying to you just to make you feel stupider.

“I don’t know it…”

Your response came out as a whine.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!”

One of his hands moved away from your waist. For a moment you wondered what he was doing, but then you felt a hard slap come down on your ass.

“Ahh! What…? Why did you?”

“You need some consequence for your stupidity.”

You tried to clear your head for the next question.

“Why is it more likely that we will find prokaryotes rather than eukaryotes when we finally explore Europa, Enceladus, or Mars?”

“I don’t know Scara-”

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your cheek. Did he slap you?

“I don’t want my name in the mouth of a worthless slut like you.”

He paused for a second.

“Did you just get tighter? You really are slut.”

You blushed and looked away from him. You didn’t want to admit it, but you really were enjoying yourself. However, the fact that your tutor still wasn’t fucking you was driving you insane. You prayed that soon enough he would get bored tormenting you and finally fuck you.

“Instead of calling me by my name, why don’t you just call me master, hmm?”

“Okay…”

“Okay what?”

“Okay master…”

“Aw, so the slut can be good! Well, since you’re so stupid, I’ll give you an easy question next. What substances are emitted from cryovolcanoes?”

Oh thank god, you actually knew this one.

“Water, ice, ammonia, nitrogen, and methane…right?”

He just watched you for a moment with a little smile while doubt started to build in your mind.

“That’s correct. But it really was such an easy question, maybe I should continue teaching you…”

“Please Sca- master…”

“Oh? What are you asking for?”

“I want you to fuck me…please…”

He watched you for a few moments, contemplating his decision.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg, and I’ll fuck you. I won’t ask again.”

There was no way you were going to beg Scaramouche to fuck you. That would be humiliating. But if it would get him to fuck you…no. You weren’t that desperate for him, were you? However, all of your reasoning flew out the window when Scaramouche lifted you up his cock and dropped you back down.

“Fuck please master, fuck me, I need it so bad, need to feel you wreck me, want you to use me however you want, please!”

“However I want, hmm?”

Before you could reply, he had lifted you off of his cock and moved you so you were on your hands and knees. He got up from his spot and knelt behind you.

“But master I wanna- mmf!”

Your tutor pushed your head into the pillows.

“Stupid little sluts don’t get to touch me or watch me fuck them.”

With that, he pushed his cock back into you. God, why did he feel so big? He’s short, so why does it feel like he’s in your fucking throat from this angle?

“And arch your fucking back, whore.”

You did as he asked, and all you got in response was him letting out a little laugh. He started fucking you slow but deep, and you couldn’t help the moans that were escaping your lips, but thankfully, they were muffled by the pillows, so he could barely hear them. Fuck, this felt so good. The fact that he tortured you before getting here didn’t even matter anymore, as long as he could make you feel like this.

Before too long, you could feel an orgasm approaching, and though you tried to let him know, the pillows obstructing your mouth caused your warning to come out as, “mhmhfm hm hmhm hmm!” and your tutor continued to ignore you. Eventually however, you felt yourself start to tip over the edge. You really did try to tell Scaramouche, but he just wouldn’t listen. He was far too wrapped up in the feeling of fucking you. When you finally tipped over the edge, Scaramouche stopped moving entirely, effectively giving you a very shitty orgasm. He grabbed your hair and hauled you up to him so he could talk to you without pillows getting in the way.

“Did you just fucking cum without asking, princess?”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, and you were terrified of what would come next. He twisted the hair he had grabbed making you cry out.

“Hmmm how should I punish you? Dumb sluts like getting spanked, don’t they?”

You shook your head the best you could with how he had your hair.

“Aw, of course they do.”

He pushed your face back into the pillows and let go of your hair. There was a moment of silence as you waited for what would come next. You felt a sharp pain as his hand came down on your ass. Was he this strong before? You were confident that there would be a red handprint on your ass now. He landed another smack, causing you to emit a little yelp. He continued your punishment until you were shaking and crying. Finally, he decided he was done and wrapped a hand around your throat before once again hauling you upright. He moved his lips next to your ear.

“Don’t try to act like you didn’t like that. I could feel how tight you were.”

You blushed, but before you could respond to him, he started fucking you again, this time hard and fast. Fuck, how did he feel even deeper in you now? He reached a hand around to play with your clit. Fuck, were you going to cum a second time?

“Can I cum? Please, need to so bad.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Instead of stopping like you had expected, he kept fucking you, and within a few seconds, he had you seeing stars. He kept going this time, fucking you through your orgasm. However, he didn’t stop when you were done. He kept going, looking to reach his own end.

“Do you want master to fill you up with his cum? Hmm? Is that what you want?”

“Fuck, yes please, please!”

Scaramouche leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“No.”

“What?”

Suddenly, he let go of you before pushing you back down and flipping you over before finishing on your stomach. Fuck, you were glad you got to see that at least.

“Worthless little whores don’t deserve to be filled with my cum.”

After he said that, some switch seemed to flip in his brain, and he got up to go search for a cloth to clean you up with. He returned and sat next to you on the bed, wiping the cum off of your stomach.

“Are you okay…?”

You were amazed. He looked like a concerned puppy. Was this really the same guy that was telling you how worthless you were a second ago?

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright.”

You stared back at him. But after your confirmation, he seemed to go back to his usual self.

“So uh, does this mean anything…?”

“What?”

“I understand if it doesn’t. It’s okay, I get it. I was just-”

He flicked your forehead.

“Did u miss the part where I told you I have feelings for you? Why would this mean nothing? God, you really are stupid.”

Yep, definitely back to his usual self.

“Wait, so does that mean you wanna like, date?”

He let out a big sigh.

“I suppose I’m willing to have an idiot for a girlfriend.”

“Fine, then I’m willing to have an asshole for a boyfriend!”

He rolled his eyes at you and let out a little laugh before laying down in bed next to you. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had your head resting on Scaramouche’s chest, and before too long, you had fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @yourlocal-bunny @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga

morbific-or-felicific.

#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#scaramouche.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#this took a surprising amount of time to write the first half of but the second half was so fast so that was good #also i think the scaramouche x kazuha thing was really funny but im also an idiot so #longest fic yet babyyyyyyy #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin x you #afab reader #female reader

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 8 days

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Chances

A co-workers, enemies to friends piece for you guys!!

Warnings: mentions of cheating, rude/snippy remarks, alcohol use

WC: like 3-4k?

If there was anyone that frustrated the living daylights out of you in the office, it was Harry. You swore that God had designed him with the sole purpose of irritating you. You didn’t hate him, you didn’t know him that well. But you didn’t get on well with him; you were just opposites and often times had opposing views or solutions for things. He wasn’t lazy but he distracted everyone all the time because he finished his work quite fast. Like now…

You bit your lip, trying to hold back from saying something as he and your cubicle neighbor, Adam, laughed loudly about something. It was hard to concentrate on your editing with this racket! Music distracted you instead of help you concentrate, so you didn’t want to put on headphones, you really needed the quiet. After another minute of their commotion you shot up from your seat and went over to the little stool you had against your shared wall with Adam and stepped on so you could peer over the division.

“Can you two shut it, please? I have a last minute thing to do and the deadline’s in an hour!” You implored with a frown on your face and they both glanced over to you, smiling fading.

“Yeah. Sorry, Y/N.”, “Sorry.” They both mumbled before you clambered down and went back to your seat.

Harry wasn’t a dick, if things got to a point like this, where you had to say something to him, he always apologized. You had no idea why you suddenly developed this dislike towards him, but you just did and you could tell it bothered him. You sighed when you heard two gentle knocks on the frosted glass sliding door of your divider.

“What?” You asked monotonously and when there was no response you rolled your chair over and opened it up, startling Harry who was scribbling on a sticky note now. “What is it, Harry?”

“Nothing, just wanted to apologize again for the noise.” He offered another apology and you just nodded once. “Ummm…so what piece are you editing?” He asked, taking a step closer to you and you sighed.

“Harry, all the time I waste chatting with you about work is time I could spend actually doing my work.” You pointed out and he nodded.

“Right.” He hummed with a tight lipped smile before he took off without another word. You bit your lip nervously, feeling a bit bad over the way you’d dealt with this situation. You’d been rude for no reason and seeing him leaving all defeated like that made you feel like shit.

“That was harsh.” Adam said, peering over the division and you glanced over at him and nodded.

“I know. I’ll make it right later.” You assured him and he smiled and nodded. You got on well with Adam, you wouldn’t say you were close but you were friends, he was the one that bought you the stool to be able to look over the 6 foot division between the two of you. You could have lunch or get drinks after work sometimes and carry conversations, and more importantly, you could hold each other accountable. Whether that was in your personal conversations or with things at work.

“Good.” He said and then went to sit down again.

With the peace and quiet you were able to finish editing before the hour deadline came and the most stressful part of your day was over. You hated when the did last minute changes or additions to the magazine but it was part of the job. You couldn’t imagine how much more stressful it’d be to work for the newspaper or even for the TV where changes could be made in real time! So you let go of that frustrating part of your morning and then went to lunch. You stopped by the coffee shop around the corner and got Harry an iced, Vanilla Cinnamon latte. It was the office favorite and the perfect peace offering. So you made your way over to Harry’s cubicle with the little note you had scribbled preemptively (you were hoping he was still on lunch because confrontation was hard) but you saw him sitting there just scrolling through his phone. You bit your lip and stuffed the note in your pocket before knocking on the frame of the sliding door.

“Harry?” You said as you knocked and he turned around. When he saw it was you, he straightened up.

“Hey, Y/N.” He greeted you with a half-smile.

“Hey.” You said nervously, “Ummm, s-sorry for being rude to you earlier. I was annoyed and I took it out on you and Adam.” You explained, “Well, mostly on you.” You added.

“That’s alright, last minute additions are a pain.” He said and you nodded, relieved at his understanding.

“Yeah…so I ummm, got you this.” You said extending the drink to him, “It’s the vanilla cinnamon one that everyone seems to love.” You shared and he smiled at you.

“Wow, thank you so much. You didn’t have to.” He thanked you and you shook your head.

“It’s nothing really.” You assured him, “Just a peace offering.” You said and he nodded.

“Well thanks again.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Sorry again for earlier.” You said before hurrying off to your desk.

It was maybe 20 minutes later when you went to the kitchenette to grab some more water when you saw two of the girls from campaigning sitting at the table in there. The one called Destiny looked giddier than ever as she sipped on a latte, a latte that when she set it down had Harry’s name written in black sharpie. He had regifted your peace offering?! You were livid and felt betrayed! Maybe you had pushed him too far this time and he disliked you now too! You couldn’t help it when you mouth opened to ask her about it.

“H-hey Destiny, did someone do a coffee run?” You asked her and she shook her head and smiled cheerfully.

“No, Harry got it for me over lunch. Said he knew I liked these. He’s so sweet!” She said and you were holding off an eye-twitch.

“Wow, so sweet.” You said and then rushed back out without your water. You started to storm over to his area but then stopped yourself. You didn’t like him and he clearly didn’t like you, which was fine. This was fine and yes, your feelings were hurt, but you’d done the same to him and well, a coffee was nothing compared to hurt feelings so you just trudged back to your desk and sat with a huff.

“What’s wrong?” You heard Adam ask from his cubicle.

“Nothing, just forgot to grab water before coming back.” You said and he hummed.

“I’ll be back…” you mumbled before heading back to the kitchen. You were filling up your water bottle when Harry walked in, humming a familiar little tune.

“Oh, hey Y/N!” He greeted you with pep and you turned to him.

“Harry. Did you enjoy your coffee?”

“I did, thank you! It’s not a favorite for nothing!” He said with a smile and you hummed.

“Well good. It’s a lot of people’s favorite here.” You said and he nodded with a smile, but he sensed the awkwardness emanating from you.

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled again as you held eye contact with him for a few seconds and you just walked out without another word.

…. A FEW DAYS LATER ….

It had been a few days and you were still upset that Harry had regifted the coffee you’d bought him. And more than that, it irked you that now he thought you were friends. He’d say hello everyone morning and you’d just respond half-heartedly. He knew better than to strike up conversation while you were in the zone, so to him this was just you acting like you always did. And to you, well he was just lying and being fake, which made you like him even less. All of this was affecting you far more than you cared to admit. It really struck you with awe just how easily he had the others fooled! It was around lunch time when you contacted your best friend, Nina, to see if she wanted to meet up for drinks she agreed and now you had something to look forward to for the rest of the work day.

It was 7 on the dot when you walked in to the bar you’d agreed upon. It was a little bit up-scale, so you’d gone home and changed and done up your makeup a little bit more. Thankfully, the bar top had two open spots so you hurried over and set your purse down on the empty stool to reserve it for Nina. It wasn’t odd that Nina was late, after she had her daughter she was constantly running 15-30 minutes behind everyone. It was annoying but you knew that being a mom was also annoying sometimes, it was a full-time thing, 365/24/7. No days off. Around the 32 minute mark you got a text from her stating that the baby had a fever and she couldn’t leave her with her boyfriend, who was also sick. You sighed and then raised your hand to get the bartender.

“Ready?” He asked as he walked over.

“Yeah, just the espresso martini.” You said.

“Got it. Open or closed tab?”

“Just leave it open.” You said and he nodded before taking your card and setting that up.

You texted Nina back and then just looked around the bar, it was more full now and there were people waiting to sit, so you decided now was a good time to remove your things from the neighboring high chair. And as you gave one more look around the room your eyes landed on none other than Harry Styles. He looked relieved to see you and started making his way over to you. You sighed and turned to face the bar again, but moments later you heard his voice.

“Y/N!” He greeted you.

“Harry.” You mumbled, staring straight ahead.

“Can I…touch you?” He asked and you whipped around quickly, thanking the interior designers that these chairs spun.

“What?!”

“Can I touch you, not in a creepy way! Just, like a hand on your waist or hip?” He asked.

“You may not.” You scoffed.

“Oh my god, please! I ran into my ex outside and she already has another boyfriend! I told her I was seeing someone too because I…felt sad and jealous that she moved on and when he gets here and she gets inside I don’t want to look like a fool.” He explained and you pouted a bit. You knew about about exes that made you feel bad about yourself.

“Fine.” You sighed, “This seat is not gonna be taken anymore so just hop on.” You mumbled and he thanked you as he sat.

“So did you get stood up?” He asked carefully.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it was by my friend, not a date. Her baby is running a fever.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Yep.” You hummed and then moments later your drink came and Harry ordered the same. Which then reminded you of why you were so annoyed at him.

“Hey, I also wanted to ask, maybe this is not the time and place to have this conversation, but do you…have a problem with me?” He asked and you turned to him.

“Not really, I just…don’t mesh with you.” You said simply and he frowned. Everyone meshed with Harry. He was an air sign, he was freewheeling and fun and kind and creative!

“Well, why not?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t like your manner of doing things. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I mean you’re getting things done and everyone likes the outcome of your work, it’s just the way you go about it. It doesn’t work for me. It’s not personal, Harry.”

“You make it personal though.” He said and you frowned.

“I don’t.”

“You do.” He insisted, “I’ve left it alone because you’re just how you are and everyone tells me that it’s not me, that you’re just…a certain way, but I don’t know you that well so…” he trailed off and you frowned.

“You talk about me to other people?”

“Sometimes…just to ask if they’ve heard you say anything about me, you know? Not to talk badly of you. But sometimes people come to me about it. I mean, it’s not like they don’t see the difference of how you treat them versus me.” He said and your brows furrowed. You thought your dislike towards him was discrete but everyone knew apparently.

“And everyone thinks I’m…a bitch?” You asked and he bit his lip nervously.

“I’ve never said that to anyone by the way, but people have…used that term from time to time.” He explained and you frowned, “I know we don’t know each other all that well but to me it just seems you’re just…a grump. Not a…well, you know.” He shrugged.

“Hey Harry!” You both heard and spun around to see who you presumed was his ex standing there with a tall man on her arm. She was breathtaking. You weren’t insecure about your looks all that often, but right now you were. You swear you’d seen this woman in some ad on the internet before.

“Hi Eden, nice to see you again.” He smiled.

“Yeah, we ran into each other outside.” She explained, “This is Gerard, my boyfriend.” She introduced him, “He models too.” She said and you and Harry both nodded.

“I’d imagine so!” Harry smiled easily. You were impressed at his composure after he admitted to you that he felt sad and jealous about this minutes before. Your irritation and insecurity would’ve flared far too easily and you would’ve made a fool of yourself. “Nice to meet you, Gerard.” He said extending his hand and shook it. “This is Y/N, my date tonight.” He said and then you felt Eden’s scrutinizing gaze down your face and body.

“Mmmm, kinda cute, I guess.” She said with a hint of snark and your eyes narrowed at her.

“Like those shoes!” You said with a sardonic smile and her mouth dropped open a bit, “We were kind of in the middle of an important conversation, so if you’re done trying to flaunt Gerard to your ex maybe it’s time you go find a seat.” You said and she just groaned and pulled Gerard along. Moments later Harry started laughing and you held back your smile as you turned back towards the bar.

“Oh, that was funny.” He chuckled, “Thanks for that.” He said to you with a smile and you maintained your serious facade.

“S’nothing, she was too condescending. And that poor man, being dragged into her games.”

“Either way, thank you. Standing up to her is not an easy feat.”

“Is that why you broke up?”

“Yeah…she was mean spirited and she cheated on me so-”

“Oh, that’s awful, Harry! I’m sorry.”

“Well at least she’s with him now and it wasn’t some rando.” He said and you shook your head.

“I guess but only an awful person betrays someone like that and it’s not worth you feeling sad or jealous over.” You stated firmly and glanced back at him and he was smiling a bit, “Or well…that’s my opinion about it.” You shrugged, sounding a bit less secure now that he was staring into your eyes.

“Well, thanks for that. I think I minimize it to…not feel so badly about it.” He explained and you hummed and reached for your drink again.

Everything you’d thought of Harry up until this point was the opposite of what he seemed to be. His constant need for socializing had you thinking he had no self awareness, but his priori statement made you realize that he did have it. Maybe you’d just judged him far too harshly for absolutely nothing. And well, no one likes to admit that they’re wrong…but you were wrong about him. But sadly, he wasn’t wrong about you and it made your smile fall.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you and you shook your head.

“It’s nothing.” You assured.

“Hey, tell me. The least I could do is listen after you retrieved my balls from the dragon guarding them.” He chuckled and you smirked, “Sorry for being crass but I mean…that’s what it was.” He said.

“I concluded that I have been wrong about you this whole time but you haven’t been wrong about me and that’s…it’s sad.” You said.

“It’s not like you’re a bad person. You’re just…irritable.” He said with a smile and you sighed.

“I try not to be…and like it’s not like in a condescending way. I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. I just…I’ve always had a hard time relating to other people. Like I’m not into the same things as everyone so I can’t join in on conversations a lot and it does upset me. But now everyone things I’m this kill joy and a raging bitch!” You said through a laugh of disbelief.

“I mean…what you did for me the other day? With the coffee?” He asked and then your smile fell again.

“You mean the coffee you regifted to Destiny?” You asked and he sighed. “I saw her with it in the kitchen. She said you bought it for her.” You said with an accusatory tone, “That…hurt my feelings.” You confessed. It felt like you were choking on sand, admitting that to him but it had been something you couldn’t move past.

“Okay, there’s an explanation.” Harry said, “I’m lactose intolerant and when I tried it I realized it wasn’t lactose free and I would get sick if I drank it. I didn’t want to throw it away and risk you seeing it in a garbage can. So I…gave it to the person who sat further away from you and told her a little white lie about it.” He explained and you couldn’t be upset at that.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright. I appreciated the gesture though! A lot! I thought maybe that meant we could start to be a little more chummy, you know?”

“I thought so too until I saw you regifted it.” You said and he smiled.

“Yeah…I should’ve said something then or asked. But I just assumed you knew. Usually when we group order I’m the only other person who gets a cold brew black-”

“Oh! I’m the other person who orders that!” You said excitedly and he grinned.

“Yeah? I mean, good coffee doesn’t need anything in my opinion. It has a whole flavor profile on its own!”

“Agreed!” You concurred and he smiled.

“See, there’s one thing in common.” He added and you hummed and smiled.

The rest of the evening with Harry was pleasant. After all of the unpleasantness you’d put him though you picked up his tab too and assured him that next time he could get you and well, he was pleased that there’d be a next time.

Harry was glad you two had a breakthrough. He was walking back to his car and was feeling for his keys in his pockets when he realized they weren’t there. He circled back to the bar and no one had turned anything in and they weren’t where you two sat or in the bathroom. So he hurried out to his car and upon peering in with his phone light on he saw them sitting in the cup holder. He groaned as he recalled that he’d seen Eden walking down the sidewalk when he was about to get out of the car.

“Shit…” he mumbled and then dialed your number.

“Hey Harry!” You answered right away as you had just gotten to the intersection.

“Hey, I hate to do this but I locked my keys in my car and my insurance thing is in there too and if I call a random tow they’ll charge me an arm and a leg…”

“Yeah, no worries ummm, I can circle back I’m just down the street.” You assured, “Did you need to stay over as well?” You asked.

“Only if you’re fine with that! If not I could see who’s up and can let me crash!”

“No that’s alright, my couch is very comfy.” You assured him.

“Okay, thank you so much! I parked around the corner on 4th.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few.” You assured and hung up.

Minutes later he was getting into your car, thanking you profusely for helping him out. He was searching through his emails for his insurance agent’s contact to give him a call in the morning, and thankfully he found it. He explained it wasn’t any of the bigger insurance companies since those were too pricey. So he ran everything by this guy to ensure that things would get covered by his policy if and when he ran into any issues. You fully understood this and chatted about it a bit more until you were at your apartment.

Once you got in you assured him he could borrow some stuff from your ex boyfriend that’d been left behind and got him a spare toothbrush too and he went off to get showered and changed while you made up the couch for him. You waited for him to get out and then headed back out with two pillows.

“Hey, ummm soft or firm?” You asked him.

“Whichever one you don’t use.” He smiled.

“Oh no, I have like 6 pillows, you choose the one you prefer.” You assured.

“Firm, please.”

“Alright, here you are.” You said walking it over to him.

“Y/N, seriously, thank you for tonight. For all of it.” He said softly.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. It’s the least I can do after being a huge bitch to you for nothing.”

“It’s not because you’re trying to make things up to me. It’s because you’re a nice person.” He said and you smiled a bit and glanced away, “Hey, you are.”

“After everything I’ve done to you and how I’ve treated you, you believe that?”

“I do. I also believe in second chances.”

“Hopefully not with cheating exes…” you added with a timid smirk and he grinned.

“Yeah, definitely not.” He said, gaze still locked on yours. You felt this tension rising between you, it was all of the good things mixed with all the past irritations and it was making your brain cloudy. “Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

“How mad would you be if I tried to kiss you right now?” He asked and you couldn’t tell if he was kidding around or being sincere.

“Ummm…I don’t…know.” You got out nervously, “Let’s just get to bed.” You said and he nodded, “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Good night.” He responded and you hurried off to your bedroom. You also washed off your body and got ready for bed and as you finally settled in your phone pinged with a text message.

Harry Styles:

How do I turn off the light?

You smiled and got out of bed and went over to find him already cuddled up on the couch and he glanced over at you.

“Sorry couldn’t find the switch.”

“It’s on this remote.” You said reaching for it on the coffee table.

“Oh, fancy.”

“Right!” You grinned and handed it over. “You can change the settings too if you don’t want it pitch black.” You said and he nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” You said and started walking off before stopped at the entrance of the hallway. You went back and leaned over him before kissing his cheek gently. His eyes fluttered shut and he smiled for a second before you pulled back. “Sorry.” You whispered.

“That’s alright.” He assured you and you but you r lip nervously before hurrying back down the hall. You closed the door and leaned back on it with a pounding heart and a smile on your face. You were so happy you have given him a chance tonight.

#harry styles #writing #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry x you #you x Harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles reader insert #harry styles reader insert fanfic #harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles comfort #harry styles writer #Harry styles fic #0nlythrowharrybeaux

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remlionheart · 1 month

Text

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

#chuuya smut #bsd smut #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #soukoku #rem writes

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bts5sosempire · 11 months

Text

the tyrant (viii)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5,852 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, mentions of infertility, etc. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna’s eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you." 𝐚/𝐧: I AM FINALLY DONE! Went pass the word limit istg. But hope y'all are ready what y/n is planning. 👀 btw, please like ❤️, comment in the "comment" section 📝 for tagging, and reblog 🔄 if you wish. Forgot I edited some parts in different chaps too, so if you see minor changes in them then I was fixing them.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Another few more months with the year ending, and another would mark the end of five years. Despite being bedridden, it had made you uneasy since spending the luxury time doing nothing had made you naught. Yumi and the personal servants who you had personally hired for your inner circle inside the castle had been keeping you posted up about your businesses from the outside. Everything was going well.

Holding the reports over the fire, it lights up when the corner catches, "I'm gonna leave for a bit." You told Yumi, who was alarmed by you.

They started to panic, "You already received your reports saying all is well; you shouldn't move around a lot." Yumi tried to sway your mind, but you had already stood up from your bed and in front of your long mirror.

With your arms stretched out, the personal servants you hired from the outside who knew about your secret come to your aid. They swiftly took off your attire and replaced it with your pseudo outfit. You rarely snuck out, but today you feel rebellious. Staying in bed may get you sick in staying in bed.

You turn around to grab Yumi by the arms and put her in your futon, "Stay here and be good." With a soft smile, you open the door and poke your head out and look around for a particular male valet. Outside, your room was quiet; everyone was prepping for dinner now and cleaning the dining area to feast later. "Where are they?" And right on cue, their eyes met yours when appearing from a corner, and they understood immediately when you nodded at them.

With the quick perception of their view, their feet race towards you. "Everyone is busy; it should take about two hours at most." They informed you with a bow, their gaze not meeting yours.

"Good," coming out of your room, your feet glide across the polished wooden boards as they tail closely behind you. Behind every castle are secret walls; you happened to know it by accident during your research days as becoming Seijuro Hajime. It somehow comes in handy now.

After making swift turns around the halls, you stop right in the middle of a wall that is made of a stack of jagged stone slabs building on top of another; its color that was once in the shade of grey birch is now darkened with tints of green. Its gap of lines was filled with green and yellow moss and heavy, unruly vibes hanging from above. The area you'll frequent quite a lot is an abandoned wing rumored to be a gorgeous garden but is now defiled by aging neglect. The large pond that was filled with colors of Koi fish is now empty with weeds and putrid water that is left behind by the rain. Chip redwoods of a bridge leading to a roofless gazebo that represents the heart and main attraction of the pond. Overall, everything is in bad condition.

Your fingers smoothly ran along every crevice and protruding bump of each slab, and it wasn't until you reached the smaller rock with a small mark that could go unnoticed under the human eyes if no one was paying attention to it. Faintly remembering the details at the back of your head, you push the rock, which caves into your strength.

There was a low rumble from within the walls, and debris fell from above the shaking forces. The wall split into two, and faint mechanic whirring gears could be heard. Torches mounted on the wall spring into life as each illuminates the dark long descending stairs ahead of you. Red wooden beams were worn for ages, also holding the tunnel. A faint smell of wet, sticky residue lingers in the air.

Well, that's ominous. You turn around to face the valet, and they bid you a half farewell, "Stay safe." Nodding at them, they press another adjacent block to the opening block, and the doors come sliding close.

You descend the stairs and follow one pathway until you reach the middle, where it diverges to three; if you remember, you should take the one on the right. It also says in the blueprint that there is a trigger for activating traps; right in the center is a hanging bell above. If the bell is cut loose, all the mechanisms within the walls will run. You eye the old rusted bell that is darkened with a barely color of copper resembling it.

"Did you miss me?" Someone throws themselves and wraps their arms around your neck behind you. You place a hand on top of the table to save yourself from toppling forward face-first into the food. The cup of warm tea of amber liquid spilled over your nimble fingers. Their scent entered your nose, and it was the same person you bumped into before. "You know you're very hard to find; I scoured the whole city." Sliding their arms around, that now occupied your arm, they sat beside you as if they were your lover.

Personal space for you is also gone.

You patiently set the cup down and grabbed the rag near the portable stove that warmed the teapot. Wiping away the spilled remnant, you inch away from the clingy woman by loosening your arm, but she only tightens it with a pout. For some reason, you don't think you understand the choice a young woman like her makes to try to be cute to get their way. I mean, you're a woman. That's why you're probably immune to it.

In the first place, you only came out here to be a spectator since, within your report, there should be two high clans born male heirs trekking through the city that Sukuna rules from Yuichi. But you doubt you can complete your task today if you don't do anything.

"It's rude not to look at the person talking to you. Do you know who I am?" They tugged your arm. "My older cousin runs this city, and I could have your head, too, you know?" It looks like it will be hard to get your attention, "My cousin is Sukuna Ryomen."

Upon hearing his name, you tried to remain indifferent, but you only let out a small huff of a laugh. 'This should be interesting to pass the time.' The woman thought throwing her cousin's name around would add weight and make her cave in, but it seemed to be doing the opposite effect. Without her knowing, you decided to amp up a charming facade. "The Sukuna Ryomen?" You turn your head to face her, and the coy smile that split across your lips made the woman frown. Why aren't you scared of her? "Do you know," you stare into those pomegranate eyes that share the same color as Sukuna, "throwing your cousin's name around isn't safe too? You're making yourself a target for-" your eyes roam around the room. A few people were looking your way, and the woman noticed it too and flushed red, "-those to take advantage of."

"If only you looked at me when I asked!" Kiriko fumbles out an excuse, and her face becomes hotter and red.

This makes you decide to toy with the woman. Since she has a relation to your supposed husband, it would be easy to probably get the information right if you knew how to ask. Although you think you wouldn't be able to, it's not hard for you to play around with her. "From what I heard, he isn't a good man."

"What do you know about him?" She bites back.

"He plays favorites with certain people, and there's this special wife he's rather fond of." You quip to get a reaction from her, and it seems to hit the mark. "I saw her a few times, and she's lovely that many of these city and village folks adore her. Got to say she's a woman after my own heart if she wasn't married."

"You shouldn't like her!" Kiriko jealousy spouted, and with a tug of your arm towards her, you thought she might yank it off its socket. "She might be pretending to be nice to make people like her! You should like someone genuine like me!" She declared, and this made you snort another laugh. A woman jumping the horse, it seems. You don't know what she has heard about you, but it is pretty amusing. "What? You don't believe me?" Now she sounds offended.

"It's not that I don't believe you," wanting to tease her more, you swoop in closer to her, "but I don't believe in tarnishing another person just on baseless rumors or what they have or heard against her." Kiriko shrinks back from the sudden closeness. She was quiet, and then you turned your attention away from her. "Sir," you raise a hand to pay for your tab. Once they're near, you drop the payment into their outstretched hands.

Sliding your arm out of their hold, you lighten up your pace with the woman chasing after you. "Wait!" They shouted after you, and you made eye contact with a nearby seller who understood what you indicated. The seller grabbed a bucket of water and poured it onto the ground right after Kiriko was close enough to be after you. Kiriko shrieks out when the lower half of her attire is wet. "Watch where you throw that dirty water, you peasant!"

"Ah, I'm sorry, Miss." They awkwardly apologize.

Kiriko bites the bottom of her lip and looks at your back; you don't even turn around to check if she's alright. She watches your figure disappear into the heads of an endless crowd with a little bit of resentment. She'll make you look her way no matter what since she wants to take you back to her homeland as a spouse by the end of her stay, even if it's by force.

[at a random inn]

"So what's the deal?" You suddenly appeared by Yuichi's side, who got slightly spooked.

"You got to stop doing that," the man told you; he put a hand over his chest. You only laugh and cross your arms before looking below from the second floor. Yuichi saw you spectating two males who stood out like a sore thumb in the crowds of primary cotton colors clothing of grey, dark grey, and brown. "I thought you weren't going to come?"

"And miss this glorious sight?" You humor Yuichi but cut it short too. "I must return to the castle soon, or my covers blow. So who are they?" Motioning the two rich strangers talking lowly to one another, Yuichi tilts his head slightly toward you.

"The one in deep indigo is Totsuwa Iriyu; from my sources that I have people gathered around, his family used to serve the Emperor before they fell from grace. The funny thing is your husband was involved with their family, and there were speculations that he took them off from the Inner Circle of the Emperor Hoshu." Yuichi explains, and you thought that might be something Sukuna would do. "And the one in dark green is Mugetsu Rintoru, and he's that buddy, in the deep indigo best friend too. He also has a problem with your husband too."

"Everybody seems to have problems with Sukuna; I'm unsurprised." Amusement dances across your lips, "How long are they planning to stay?"

"Approximately up to three weeks since they did get an invitation from Sukuna." Now that made you raise an eyebrow.

"Guess invitation isn't what is going in their mind too; nobody comes here in Sukuna's land with no pure thoughts since he is the most sought after when it comes to wealth. And revenge." You then un-latch your arms and pat Yuichi's biceps. "I'll approach them in my time, but keep an eye on them."

Your servants all scamper away when Sukuna walks through the hall; they all refuse to look up but still greet him in acknowledgment. But the one that felt like they were getting a heart attack was the one who was your spies. Sukuna had come to pick you up for dinner quite early. They all gave each a look to see who would intercept him. There was a back-and-forth motion of 'No, you' between the servants. But it wasn't until Sukuna positioned himself in front of them they all hesitantly looked up.

"L-Lord Sukuna, Lady (Name) is still resting." One squeaks out in fear; despite being hired by you, they still fear Sukuna.

"Move aside," he commanded.

"She wishes not to be disturbed, My Lord." The same person quickly interjected.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, "Do you wish to die?" He glowers down at them, and they all shrink back. "Now. Move. Aside." Sukuna said each word with heavy and daunting syllables, and the servants sidestepped demurringly. If their heart could leap out of their chest, this would be the best time.

Before Sukuna could open the door, it slid open, and there was you. "What's with all this commotion?" You don't need to look at your servants who tried to stop Sukuna lets out breaths of relief. Sukuna peaks over your head and sees books lying on your table.

Sukuna: "Thought you were resting, no?"

You: "I did; I woke up a while ago."

Without further ado, you try to bypass Sukuna, but he takes good of your hand. You wanted to rip it from his hold without causing much fuss, but he tightened his grip. "You seem well enough now; your colors are back." He took steps with you side by side.

"You are already starting to make me sick," exasperation released from your voice when you tugged your hand again, and Sukuna tutted at you.

"There's that tone that I've missed," he purrs, and if he's successfully getting under your nerves, he's doing a great job. You were clenching your jaws. "I've got something to show you after dining too." From his tone, Sukuna was rather excited; it was only a slight pitch lighter.

[excution field]

A heavy fur coat was draped around your shoulders. You don't understand why he brought you here right after eating. Most of all, the execution ground. You got a hand to cover the smell. Sukuna leans heavily behind you with his arms encasing you; somehow, this feels familiar, like that one day. Once again, you attempted to shrug him off, but it always made him want to be closer to you.

There was fresh blood over the dried blood; even the stench of death couldn't be erased from this place. You never really visited the site; this was the first time in five years you had set foot on the ground where innocent sinners came to die by Sukuna's final resolution. "I like you to be the first to witness something that could lead me to more winning conquest." He said, leaning his head low and letting his lips touch your ears; Sukuna's breath fans over one side of your face. You silently tilt your head to look up at him; questions linger in your eyes.

Sukuna was jittering in excitement, and this was something. You rarely see him like this; he can be proud and loud within his moments. This is something new. He's barely contained.

Sukuna lets himself be away from you, which makes you inwardly happy. "Bring it out!"

It didn't take two frightening retainers to bring out a wooden craftsman box. Sukuna flipped the lid open, and inside, it was presented to be some long metal rod with wood attachments. You were observing not too far away from Sukuna. Sukuna lifts it out of its case and settles an aim. "Get the prisoners too." You recognize that black powder from anywhere when Sukuna pops the lid open and pours it into the opening of the barrel. Then he used a rod to push the powder more profoundly into the narrow tunnel before setting the breech on fire.

"What are you doing?" You ask him; somehow, dread-filled your chest when you saw three people lined up and tied to a thick wooden pool. You can hear their whimpers from where you're at.

"You'll see," was all he said; Sukuna leveled the weapon up and above over his shoulder as he aimed again, then pulled the trigger with a steady finger.

BANG!

The sound made you jump; you instinctively covered your ears in fright with your heart hammering, as did the people far and near to witness. Smoke came from the weapon, but it was pushed away and dissipated into the atmosphere by the wind. What you were looking at wasn't the weapon itself but the person tied to the wooden stake. Their head was blown clean right off, just from this distance where Sukuna stands.

Is this what he wanted to show you? The future? How it's going to be in his hand?

"Did I spook you? Sorry," Sukuna carefully put the weapon back into its case and walked toward you; he took your hands from your ears and slotted them into his own. Your eyes wouldn't move away from the headless corpse; it was stuck wide open, witnessing the scene. It wasn't until you blinked again and pulled your hands back from his hold then your curiosity overtook.

You: "What did you do to them?"

Sukuna: "It's obvious what I did, didn't it?"

You: "Yes, you did. I'm asking what kind of weapon was that."

Sukuna glances over his shoulder before covering the view by stepping to the side when you try to take another look. "I must admit, the Portuguese did come with something this time. It's a Matchlock rifle. It's one of the prototypes, not permanent yet."

"A rifle? You can kill someone from this distance?" Your furrowed brows and contorted face of confusion almost make Sukuna lose composure. This is undoubtedly the first time in a while that you have been interested in something and was willing to talk with him, without sassing back, of course.

"Even further, too," Sukuna confirm. "But like I said, this is just a prototype, not yet decided. I want to talk to the Portuguese and have a room ready for one of their men to stay behind and modify the rifle with me."

You: "Why modify it when it's already deadly enough as it is?"

Sukuna: "Not deadly enough to my liking."

You were back to your room and became a sitting duck again. 'If Sukuna could get that weapon, then we're screwed.' When evolution for weapons couldn't get any better or worse, you almost felt worried. Sukuna would indeed be able to conquer land much more and faster, but with that rate, even the death of others he's going to take isn't going to remain stagnant anymore.

More bloodshed and the lives of others will continue to bleed over this land of Japan.

"Get this letter to Yuichi as fast as possible tomorrow during your shift outside; we need information." You fold the letter with deft hands and give it to a male retainer. "Be careful."

"Lady (Name), you have a gift from Sultana Aida." Yumi hands you a box, and it is wrapped neatly. "It was sent earlier when you were in the...field."

You took the box and unwrapped the red sash around it. Sultana Aida has sent you self-care items, especially body oil, and cream. The scent was sweet and fresh, not overpowering enough to give you a headache. The oil inside the clear bottle was in a rich hue of gold, and the body cream was sealed tightly in a jar too. Sultana Aida had a penchant for making perfume and women's essential needs. You met them over a year ago during a foreign meeting.

"Send a gift back to her." You told Yumi, who nodded and went outside to where there is a room where you store all your possession and gifts.

[night time]

There was a fluid snap of your doors being open and closed; the person who always comes into your room as they please is Sukuna himself. Through the bronze mirror, you could see Sukuna in his loose attire, which exposed the skin of his partial chest once he was close enough to where the lantern light could reach. You applied the body cream you received today to your neck before Sukuna settled himself behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist and chin upon your shoulder.

You froze for a quick second. Sukuna closes his eyes in bliss to take in the scent. "This smells nice." Even if he notices your discomfort, he doesn't care at the moment, not right now. He nuzzles his nose closer until it presses against your neck, and the warm breath of his seeps through your skin and into the thinness of your night clothes. You close the lid over your body cream and set it aside.

"What do you want?" Your eyes remain on the mirror, which shows how relaxed Sukuna is; he got you in between his legs as they were propped up to where his knees were bending. There was a deep inhale from him.

"I can't even be here in my own home?" He inquired, "I'm here to spend the night with you." That made you decisively rip his arm off around your waist.

"No, you're not," you shot back and marched away from him to create a distance. "You have plenty of women in your harem who wanted to spend time with you," on the other side of the room, you defiantly look at the man, who gives you a lop side grin.

"I'm not bedding you, not right now." Sukuna restates your thoughts, "Just sleeping side by side." Your face was stoned, but it was enough for Sukuna to tell that you didn't believe him when your brows twitched. There was a 'huh' from you, and you were gunning for the door, and in a flash, Sukuna had you in his embrace again. Another momentarily struggle from you when you start to kick and tell him repeatedly to let you go. "Don't," he whispered huskily into your ear, "I won't do anything, I promise." The man carried you by the waist with both arms and settled down with you in a slump onto the large futon.

Sukuna loosened his arms, and you slithered away to the other side of the bed and got under the cover with your back turned to him. He wanted to push the boundaries, but he wouldn't. Getting under the surface, too, he remains still watching the slope of your curves highlighted by the sheet and your back rising and falling. Sukuna gathered your hair that was pools around the gap in between you both and played with the ends; he let them loop around his forefinger before running a thumb over the silk feeling of it. He then brings the strands to his lips and kisses them to bid good night to you.

Then the light went out.

You roll over in bed and bring the blanket under your chin to snuggle in deeper. But why did something feel heavy around you? There was difficulty opening your eyes, and when you did, sleep didn't completely fade away as drowsiness was still evident. If it weren't for the hand patting your back to lull you back to sleep, then you would've done so. "Go back to sleep." With a heavy grave tone that slinks into one of your senses, the haze of sleep washes away. Angling your head up, you see the fondness in Sukuna's eye and push him away in shock with an 'ack,' and Sukuna only rolls onto his back in bed. The man almost laughs at your reaction. Quickly sitting up in bed, you didn't realize how bright the room was when your face was scrunched up and brought the bed sheet up to your chest. Even outside was quiet.

Sukuna almost forgot you make so many faces during sleep and even when you wake up, although not this much. There was a yawn from you as you covered it with both hands, then you swept your hands through your hair. "It's almost near ten if you're wondering." He repositioned himself again on the futon, laying on his side with one leg propped up while he used one hand to support his head under his chin.

"Get out," voice groggy; you stood up from the bed to prepare for the day, but Sukuna reached across the bed and brought you back down.

"You should sleep in more; you look adorable when sleeping." Sukuna teases you, and by instinct, you try to tear your wrist away, but this further fuels him to bring you into his arms and lock you up. Cradling you, he brushes a few strays of hair out. The push and pull you both had is almost desirable to other women in the harem. Sukuna in the morning looks different, nearly too humane for your liking. When he brushes the hair aside, he lingers his hand on the apple of your cheek and brings his lips to kiss the top of your head. Your reaction was like a cat sprayed with water, always struggling. "I almost forgot; good morning to you too." The body scent you had acquired sticks to you so well that it is only what pheromones entirely throughout the night. Maybe this is the scent he likes, besides your natural scent.

"I took some time off from my affairs and decided to tend to you." If you look offended, you do indeed; anything he does for you sounds like an offense. The foreign topic of him trying to soften you up always seems helpless, but Sukuna has time to try everything; a man like him is never out of ideas.

"I don't need you to," glaring at Sukuna, his smiles widened even more, and you took the liberty to push his face away when he closed up again with your other free hand.

[afternoon]

He was serious when he said he wouldn't leave you alone. You wanted to be by yourself, but he made it difficult. Not only had he dismissed everyone who served under you and told them that their service wasn't needed for the day, but he was also hand-hogging you.

Sukuna grabs your hand, and you forcefully pull it away; he does it again, and you repeat it. This childish play continues until he grasps it tightly, forcing you to walk side by side. "Let go." You wiggle your hand, trying not to lose composure, and Sukuna swiftly plays with your fingers and separates them from interlocking his with yours to tighten the hold.

"No," that one-word answer from him had you wish you could disappear into the air magically. "I made a promise, and I intended to keep it." Sukuna brings you even closer as you bump into his arm.

You both were walking to nowhere, only letting your feet guide you and him around the fortress ground. It wasn't until Asuna's head appeared in your view that Danzo's tugged his mother's hand to tell his mother he wanted to visit you quickly.

"Danzo?" You call from a few feet away, and the little boy brightens. He lets go of Asuna's hand and runs toward you at full speed, and knocks himself into your legs. Danzo smiles happily at you, and you use your free hand to pat the boy's head. Asuna greeted you and Sukuna while lingering where she stood. Her eyes trail to your and Sukuna's hands which are interlocked tightly. As a spectator, the scene ahead of her almost makes it seems like a perfect family of three should be if Danzo were yours, even though you were awkward in showing affection to Danzo in front of Sukuna. She kept seeing you side-eying the taller man, who was observing every millimeter of interaction. Asuna's son was very fond of you during the first meeting, even if he had misunderstood you for being a character from a book. Although you don't mind interpretation, you were rather genuine in your exchange with Danzo.

"Have you been good?" You readjust the multiple layers of collars of Danzo's clothing, fixing any creases. Danzo nodded rapidly with a hum.

"Use your mouth," Sukuna spoke up, and you again side-eye him. Danzo's little body tensed up at the sound of his father. You pretended to wiggle your hand in Sukuna's and elbow his side purposely, and he saw a subtle disapproving eye and a frown from you. You were peeved with his tendencies. Why be a grown man picking on a child, especially his own? Even his half-brother was treated almost the same.

Before you can open your mouth to comfort the child, multiple voices enter the yard. Out and emerge from the corner is Eisha with her daughter and Sena accompanying the crown matriarch along with a few minor concubines. Everyone was locking eyes with each other and stopped their idling talking. Eisha (along with Sena) picked up on how close you were to Sukuna, and a knot formed in her chest when the apparent physical contact of hand-holding was the first thing she saw. A tight-lipped wry gambol set on her lips as she greeted Sukuna and ushered her daughter, Eri, to do the same, so the rest followed suit. But her eyes flickered to Danzo's last second; he was also close. Eisha knew that Asuna's son wasn't a thought in Sukuna's mind as he was just one of the many children he sired. Still, it tickles her interest why he was so close when her daughter wasn't granted the same physical closeness but a mere glance.

"Greetings Lord Sukuna/ Father." Then the rest greeted you, besides Eisha, due to ranking. You give the rest acknowledgment with a thin nod and adequately greet Eisha only. "What brings you all out here, Lord Sukuna?" She inquires with pique curio sitting at the back of her mind.

"Thought it would do Lady (Name) good for some fresh air." Then Sukuna turns the question to Eisha, "And what are you doing out here? You are frail and susceptible to the cold, which could worsen your health."

"I'm glad that you ask Lord Sukuna," she then pulls Eri forward in front of her by the hand gently. Almost as if she wants Sukuna to acknowledge the child. "I came out here with Eri for a walk after her studies." There was only a flat 'oh' from Sukuna, and from how he sounded, it lacked interest. Even Sena picks up on the tone, and that pricks a nerve. If Sukuna doesn't even care about her two previous children, then why would he care about Eri at all? Even in your presence, he doesn't seem to show filial affection towards them.

"I see; carry on with your walk then." Sukuna quickly dismissed them, but Eisha wasn't willing to let go.

"If I could, would Your Lordship, Lady (Name), and Concubine Asuna allow us to join your route?" Eisha wouldn't allow you and Asuna to be alone with Sukuna. And behind her back, she made a hand sign which the lower-ranking concubines understood and made a quick excuse to leave the yard. So now that only leaves her, Eri, and Sena. What Eisha did, didn't escape Sukuna's vision; that only made him take a deep and intolerable sigh inwardly.

All he asked for was one day with you without interruption.

For Asuna, she thought this timing couldn't be any worse with the visible tension brewing. She could tell that Sukuna's mood had floundered a bit since, after all, he was only out here to be with you. Then she focused on you, which she could say for once; your mood seemed to be in sync with Sukuna, although you wanted to get rid of him.

Two weeks later, two figures on separate horses rode up and stopped by the entrance.

"So this is Sukuna's mighty castle, huh?" Mugetsu's keen eyes search every nook and cranny of the building to see how well the fortress is built. Then there's Totsuwa, who already feels the regret setting in. He only accepted the invitation out of sheer impulsiveness and hatred for the pink hair man, and now the feelings somehow dissolved once he made it to Sukuna's Hell doorstep. It was easy for Totsuwa to imagine himself slaying the demon and reclaiming all his honor, power, and glory that Sukuna had muddled; he even talks significantly about it in his drunken stupor at an inn a week back.

"Don't be a chicken now, Iriyu," Mugetsu teases his best friend, "we might be able to learn more about our enemy." Somehow that doesn't sound comforting to Totsuwa, even when their tone is meant to lighten him up.

Getting off their horses, they handed the reins to a stable boy and looked for someone with deep pink and white hair. It wasn't hard to spot them when they were wearing their white garment. "Hello, Lord Mugetsu and Lord Totsuwa; I am Uraume, Lord Sukuna's retainer." They greet the two men with a proper bow, "If you would please follow me, I'll guide you two."

Mugetsu tapped Totsuwa's arm a few times, "They look pretty," he whispered, eyeing Uraume's back, "if only I wasn't married and they weren't your buddy's retainer, then I would've gotten them."

"Please, for the love of God, shut up!" Totsuwa whispers right back to his friend. "You always say that to every pretty woman you walk by!"

Mugetsu: "I can't help it, though."

[sukuna's office]

"Whoa..." Surprise color Mugetsu and Totsuwa when they saw not just the room but you seated a foot away from Sukuna. Rumors about the favorite wife do hold.

"Stop ogling at my wife," the pink-haired man snapped, brows drawn together into a scowl with the corner of his lip quirking up, and a tongue click could be heard. Sukuna wasn't sure why you insisted on being here; he would let you join any other meetings, but why this one? He doesn't know. There was a smidge of hesitation presenting at the back of his mind even though he tried to push it away logically; it always came back up. However, Sukuna wouldn't let it show. During the last two weeks, you and he had an on-and-off time together, the same usual push and pull. Still, you somehow had inserted yourself into his schedule willingly today with the promise of being interested in politics.

Sukuna had warned you it would be boring to dissuade you from this meeting, but you brought up a point, "You were the one who allowed me to visit your meetings, but now you won't let me?" Point taken, and now here you are. In the logical aspect, this allows Sukuna to spend time with you. Albeit not the way how he wanted it. But he couldn't brush away the nagging thought that it didn't feel right for you to be here.

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mauvecherie-writes · 1 year

Text

Cupid’s Kisses.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Black f!reader.

tags: 18+ nsfw, minors dni, super fluff, cheesy in parts, an overdose of corny, smut, mention of birth control, unprotected sex, choking, hard breeding kink, gagging, minor spanking, dirty talk, creampie, aftercare.

word count: 6.6K.

note: Welcome to my first fic of 2023! So so sorry it took so long to come but life got in the way. Things are a little rusty but either way please leave feedback and your thoughts! Reblog and like! Thank you 💕. NOT EDITED.

tip jar.

Since your years in university, Valentine’s Day was one of the celebrated holidays that you hated purely from a resentful standpoint and you weren’t ashamed to admit that yourself. Every time that you had tried to celebrate with a partner, it never ended well for you one way or another - from being dumped on the day to your partners just not having any type of enthusiasm for Valentine’s. “I mean I love you everyday, one day shouldn’t change that.” You hated hearing that - it was such a lame excuse used to justify not wanting to go through the efforts to plan anything special. It made you feel like shit to be honest and after a while you began hating the day. The only way that you really celebrated for the past three years was exchanging gifts with your friends and then coming back home, watching romantic movies and indulging in all of your favourite foods and wine.

However, you did not expect the whirlwind persona that was Lewis Hamilton - the absolute charmer swept you off your feet and they haven’t touched the ground since. It had been a blissful seven months since a chance encounter at the French Grand Prix. You had been a guest of the Mercedes Petronas team and when he laid his eyes on you in his side of the garage he just knew (he said) and since, you were never out of his presence.

Weary at giving the high profile man a chance, you did not regret agreeing to a date with him. Giving him the opportunity to win a chance at your heart had not gone wrong thus far and as the days went by, you knew that you could not walk away from him without heartbreak. He made you feel a deep love and ultimately it made you realise that Lewis was the person for you.

This year, Valentine’s Day was going to be different and you knew this when you were greeted with a box of your favourite artisan chocolate that spelt the question ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ as you woke up on the first day of the month. Of course you enthusiastically agreed to the question, jumping into his arms and spending that morning making out and sharing the chocolate.

For the first time in years you felt butterflies in your stomach and you were unable to shake them off the more your relationship with him grew. Today was Valentine’s Day and you didn’t feel utter despair and dread when you woke up and got out of bed. Unfortunately, ever the busy man, you weren’t able to wake up in Lewis’s arms. He had flown you out to Monaco to his beautiful beachfront apartment, fed you and made sweet love to you until the both of you passed out. This morning, he needed to do some last minute business stuff before he was able to shut himself away and just be with you.

After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you walked out of the bedroom and you gasped as the open floor living and kitchen area came into your view. Red and pink rose petals were scattered all over the floor from the corridor you were standing in to the kitchen island where a few varied sized boxes resided along with love heart balloons and a bouquet of your favourite flowers. In the front of a large, circular black box was a pink envelope with your name elegantly written on it. For what felt like hours, you just stood there, simply in awe of the effort Lewis had put in for you. In the earlier stages of your relationship, you had confessed about your hang ups with Valentine’s Day so the fact that he was going to such lengths to change your perspective of the day was greatly appreciated.

You hadn’t realised that you had been softly crying until your best friend had picked up your facetime call and that was the first thing that she noticed.

“Bitch! Why are you crying?! What did he do! I’ll fly over there and beat his short ass right now!”

You laughed through your tears, shaking your head. “Nothing bad, I promise.” You sniffed as you tried to wipe your tears away. “Ugh I don’t even know why I’m crying but look at what I woke up to.” You flipped to the back camera and panned to the view that was ahead of you.

“Oh my god!” Ariel gasped as she took in the decorations. “That’s so fucking cute!” She gushed.

“I know! And there’s an envelope with my name on it but I haven’t opened it yet. I was too overwhelmed and just called you.”

“Do you want to open and read it together?” She asked and you nodded your head as she could see you. You then propped your phone and sat on one of the bar stools at the island. You took a deep breath, wiping away your tears before grabbing the envelope and softly opening it. You ignored the slight trembling of your fingers and pulled out the letter.

Princess …

Every moment that I have spent with you since I saw you in the garage had been an awakening, an awakening as to how I could have gone years without you in my life. You bring me such an unfathomable joy that I didn’t even know I was missing and I want you to know that and I will let you know that everyday for as long as you let me.

Inside this box are forever roses to represent each day since we’ve met how grateful I am that you’re taking this chance at cupid with me. I hope that you don’t regret making that choice as much as I don’t regret following my heart in chasing after you.

You are worth it my dear Valentine …

Yours,

Lewis xxx

The tears were now freely streaming down your face after you had finished reading the letter. You even heard Ariel sniffing as well.

“Holy fuck, that was the most romantic thing I have ever heard. Who knew short stuff had that in him.” Ariel commented as she watched you cradle the letter into your chest. Your heart was beating so fast as another wave of emotions crashed against your ribcage. Lewis, near or far, had the ability to rock your equilibrium, leaving you unbalanced and flustered.

“I can’t deny it anymore.” You whispered just loudly enough for her to hear through the phone.

“Are you going to tell him?” Ariel asked.

Before you could answer, the apartment door opened and along with his footsteps, Roscoe’s loud barks echoed and filled the space. You quickly tried to dry your tear soaked face but you knew that you couldn’t hide the redness and puffiness of your face.

“Baby I’m home!” Lewis yelled, his voice carrying through to the kitchen.

“In the kitchen.” You yelled back, willing your voice to not crack. Roscoe rushed as fast as he could to your feet as Lewis came around the bend and came into your view with the brightest smile on his face. However, the smile slowly dropped away from his gorgeous features as he took in the state that you were in.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he drew closer to you.

“I read your letter.” You replied as your bottom lip quivered as his words rang through your mind. “That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever written to me.”

“Awe Princess, come here.” He cooed as he cupped your puffy cheeks in his warm hands. You leaned into his palm as he wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb and placed assuring kisses on your skin after. “I meant every word.”

“I know.” You whispered as you smiled at him. Lewis smiled down at you before he placed his lips on yours. You leaned into the kiss, letting your body be swayed. He wedged his hard body in between your legs, letting the fabric of your robe slip away from your thighs. As the kiss deepened further, your hands grabbed onto his waist as you stabilised yourself.

“Alright now. As much as I love both of you and think that this moment is cute, you’re making me feel like I’m intruding on something I shouldn’t be looking at right now.” Ariel loudly announced, causing the two of you to break apart. You groaned in slight embarrassment and hid your face in Lewis’s chest. His laugh shook his body and vibrated through you.

“Hi Ariel.” He greeted her as you hugged him, melting into his embrace. His scent was soothing and the sound of his steady heartbeat calmed your unregulated feelings at the moment. You sat in silence as the two briefly interacted before Ariel bid her goodbyes. You waved at her before Lewis hung up the call. You sighed contently as you focused on the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Lewis dropped his hands to the sides of your thighs and caressed them. “How are you feeling Princess?”

“I’m feeling happy.” You smiled, still rubbing your face into his chest. You felt the pressure of his kiss on the top of your head.

“And those were all happy tears?” He questioned as he began to rock your body from side to side.

“Mhm. Thank you for the letter and gifts.” You lifted your head to meet his eyes. You blushed as he smiled, the creases of his cheeks almost touching his eyes.

“You’re very welcome.” Lewis bent his neck and captured your lips into a slow and passionate kiss once again.

“Are you ready for the rest of the day with me?” He mumbled against your mouth.

“I am!”

“Good, because I intend on making sure that today becomes the first of many.”

“Oh really?” Your eyebrow quirked upward as a smile threatened to spread across your face.

“Yes really and you better be ready for it all.”

Your heart seemed to have capsized in your chest as were at a loss for words. Truthfully the words were the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t say them just yet. Instead, you chose to kiss him, hoping that he could understand that the fervour of your movement conveyed the words you couldn’t say …

There was never a dull moment during the day with Lewis and your favourite pup. You had spent most of it in Monte Carlo, enjoying the beautiful sun and waves the location offered. Lewis at one point had tried to teach you how to surf but you were not having it. Your cornrows were relatively new and you were not about to let the salt water ruin them more than they had already been ruined after you had accepted to ride on the jet ski with Lewis. His inability to be slow on any vehicle led to you being splashed by the water as you screamed and he laughed at your dismay. After that you decided you rest on the private sunbed, reading a book with the occasional glance at Lewis playing fetch with Roscoe.

When evening came, the dog sitter came to collect Roscoe at the last minute after Lewis had decided you would spend the rest of the day in the Monte Carlo region on a whim. Luckily for you, you had grabbed his gifts and hidden them in your day bag. With his status and wealth, Lewis was somehow able to manoeuvre a last minute booking of the Venus Lover’s suite at the Fairmont Hotel and when you arrived at the suite, your belongings that you needed for the night were already there. You shared a shower together but then prepared for dinner separately and you were happy about that considering that you wanted the second part of your gift to be a complete surprise.

You embellished in a black backless maxi dress that hugged your figure and almost exposed the crack of your ass but somehow due to the bunched up fabric on your ass, it didn’t. Due to the high neckline of the dress, you barely accessorised sticking to large golden hoops and a bold statement bangle to match. With one last puff of your signature perfume - you were ready.

“Baby! Are you ready?” Lewis asked from the bathroom, where he had been getting ready.

“Yeah!” You excitedly exclaimed. You dug your first gift out of your bag and waited for him to approach you in the sitting area. He was fixing his cufflinks and had yet to lift his head and look up at you as he walked into the space. Finally, he looked up and the familiar look of adoration that always adorned his face when he looked at you drew on his features.

“Aren’t you the most beautiful woman to ever grace the earth.” He complimented as he walked towards you. With a roll of your eyes, you tried to hide your blush.

“Are you always this corny?” You enquired. “Or is it just something about this day that brings it out of you?”

“I like to think of myself as a poet.” He shrugged his shoulders confidently as you rolled your eyes yet again.

“I have something for you.” He looked down at your hands and saw the velvet box being trapped in the grip of your fingers. “As you know, this particular holiday hasn’t been the best for me for some years now to the point that I hated it.” You started and you could already feel your emotion climbing up your throat.

“But here you come, barging your way into my life and breaking through all of my walls and making me feel things that I haven't felt in a very long time.”

“Angel..” He said as he picked up on the quiver in your voice as you spoke but you shushed him.

“No. Let me say this now before I lose my nerve.” You mumbled.

“Okay.”

You took a deep breath before you continued with the small speech that you had planned out in your head. “Seeing so much of the effort you’ve put into making this day be worth it for me has shown me how you truly care for me. I feel so wanted, adored and most importantly, you make me feel so, so loved.” Your voice lost volume towards the end as you tried to control your emotions and stop yourself from ruining your makeup with your tears.

“I didn’t know what I could get a man who could have the world at his feet but I hope the fact that I put a lot of thought into this counts.” When you stopped talking and met his eyes, they were unshed tears lingering in his but the spark never dwindled. He took the box from your hands and opened it.

“Princess, this is … wow.”

“The necklace is encrusted with lab grown diamonds and the bracelet with a matching pinky ring are made from old gold jewellery I did not want anymore. Turns out that it’s cheaper to smelt old gold making it into something new than buying something else outright.”

“That was so thoughtful of you.” He softly murmured as he placed the gift down and took you into his arms, securing them around your waist. In your heels, you towered over him and a part of you secretly loved that in situations like this, you looked down at him but his eyes were so captivating, it was hard for you to shift your gaze anywhere else but his eyes.

“Thank you for the gift, I’m probably never going to take them off.” You giggled, fixing the lapels of his suit then shifting your ever moving fingers to his shirt. He had opted out of wearing a tie and let his chains hang low on his exposed chest.

“Good, so that everyone knows that you’re mine.” You spoke softly and inched down to peck his lips.

“Oh you’re claiming me now?” He smirked as his hands moved down to your ass, pulling you into him. You felt his hardening cock on your thigh and a part of you wanted to say fuck it to dinner plans and stay in the room but you had put too much effort into getting ready and there was no way you were going to let it go waste.

“You knew what the deal was.” You giggled before giving him one more kiss. “Now let’s get out of here before I change my mind on dinner.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Lewis decided to wear the pinky ring and bracelet despite the fact that it clashed with the silver jewellery he was already wearing. The table in the hotel restaurant was in the VIP section but it did not stop people from reaching for their phones to sneak a picture. It had been a while since Lewis had stepped out publicly with a woman but you had the discussion prior to this and you were prepared.

Dinner was still as intimate as it could be in the open space. You were sitting side by side instead of across from each other because you loved looking so closely into his eyes as you spoke. You loved the sound of his voice so close to your ears and with the way that you were feeling now, being right by his side was the better option.

“I had forgotten to mention that I wrote something on the inside of the ring and bracelet.” You said as you played with his fingers as you waited for dessert. Lewis’s eyebrows curiously quirked upward before he pulled his hand away to take the jewellery off. He was silent for a beat as his eyes squinted to look at the small engravings.

“Yours, YN and yours as you are mine.” He read out loud with a bright smile on his face and you could feel your cheeks rise as you grinned in response to his joy. He put the jewellery back on and leaned forward to capture your lips in a soft kiss. Your hand came to his cheek as you dove in, tasting the addicting sweetness of him - letting the sensations take over and slowly losing yourself. His moans were soft and barely audible but you cherished them all the same.

A clearing of the throat broke you from your love spell.

“Sorry.” You apologised as you cleaned Lewis’s lips of any reminiscent of your gloss.

“It’s not a problem, It is the day of love after all.” Your server replied with a cheery tone. You dropped your head onto Lewis’s shoulder as he announced Dessert. There was a range of sorbets and fruit before a specific plate of vanilla cheesecake was placed in front of you. At first you were confused but then you gasped as you registered the worlds that decorated the plate.

“When did you do this?” You asked Lewis as you looked at him.

“When you went to the bathroom.” He softly laughed. “I think now is an appropriate time to ask you officially.”

You didn’t hesitate to exclaim an enthusiastic yes before pecking his lips multiple times. It wasn’t a must that he asked you to be his girlfriend. The boundaries of your relationship had been established around Christmas but as your friends had always drilled into your head, nothing is ever truly official until clear titles are put in place, that way no one else can question it.

Lost within yourselves, the server quietly left the both of you. This man made your heart burst out of your chest with just how happy he made you and it was sickening because the lingering doubt threatened to ruin your joy.

What if it is all too good to be true?

You did not even want to think of a possibility that Lewis was faking any of this - call yourself delusional, crazy or whatever but you were going to stay in this moment with him and maybe come back to reality some time later.

Right now you were completely content with what you had.

“How do you feel about the coming season?” You asked him as the both of you fell back into your conversation. He had been sharing with you his anxieties about the new car for the upcoming Formula One season.

“You’d think with how long I’ve been doing this, I wouldn’t be getting nervous. But the last couple of years, I won’t lie to you and say that they didn’t fuck with my mind a little bit. There’s a certain confidence you tend to get with the experience I’ve got behind me but 2021 and 2022 really shook that up. It was like everything I had done up to that point didn’t really matter because the governing body could just say fuck that shit and create their own champion.”

His candidness left you awestruck. He had made the decision to stop talking about what happened in Abu Dhabi for his peace and well being but you could tell even with the work that he had put into moving on, what happened on that night and in the coming year affected him a lot. By then, you had been an avid supporter but that night really shifted you to become an even bigger supporter than you already were. The way that he had handled himself with such grace and humility for people who didn’t deserve it was commendable.

You caressed his hand that was on your lap. “I still think you should have lost your shit on them.” Your comment caused him to snort out a short laugh. “Like I know how it would have looked in front of cameras, but at least backstage. I was so angry for you! I still am by the way. You may have been able to move on but I hold a mean ass grudge.”

“Let’s hope you never bump into the FIA then.” He teased.

“I’m gonna be at every race that I can, they won’t hear the end of it if shit goes down like they did last time.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?” He raised his eyebrow, smirking softly - seeing you getting worked up amused him. To him, the situation was past him and hated looking back at it but it was always good to know that people close to him, especially you, were able to voice all the things he couldn’t say without it being a whole separate issue.

“I’m YN fucking LN, I’ll create Dante’s inferno on earth for everybody.”

“Okay YN fucking LN.” His soft laugh lightly shook your body. “Thank you for having my back.”

“Well, we’re a package deal now. You do the racing, I do the hating.”

The restaurant slowly began to empty but the night was still young and there was still so much energy to burn. The champagne the both of you had been sipping on was burning through your veins as you rushed back to your suite, excited to be getting back to privacy, away from prying eyes, ears and cameras.

Once you were back in your room, you threw your shoes off and opened the fridge to pull the bottle of wine out. You grabbed your phone and set your R&B playlist before pouring the alcohol into a glass.

“Baby do you want a glass?” You asked but didn’t get a response. “Lew?”

You straightened up and turned to face him but he was just staring right at you as he played with the black tie he had abandoned to wear for dinner.

“You okay?”

“Come ‘ere.” The sudden shift in his mood and tone almost startled you but not too much. The tension had been lurking all day like a bad habit. A lustful cloud followed you everywhere and it was finally going to pour. You walked to him and stopped right in front of him with your glass of wine still in your hand. He took the glass away from your hand, taking a sip from it before placing the glass down on the table.

You exhaled a small breath as he silently placed his hand on your neck and tipped your head to the side.

“What’s your safe word?” Lewis murmured into the side of your neck as he placed kisses on your skin.

“Cherry.” You whispered as your eyes fluttered shut as you enjoyed his lips travelling along your skin. His other hand came to your back and pulled on the strings of your dress. The material fell from your body and pooled at your feet. He dropped his hand from his neck as a harsh breath left him.

“You were naked beneath the dress the entire time?” He asked as his eyes hungrily drank in your body. You shifted on your feet beneath his heated gaze.

“Underwear would have ruined the outfit.” You justified it as his hands came to your body once again. His fingers traced from your collarbone to your heaving chest. He outlined your nipple before softly pinching it eliciting a soft moan from you.

“I haven’t been inside you all day.” His lips followed the trail of his fingers, kissing, sucking and nibbling on your flesh as you stood leaning into his touch. You could feel yourself throb with anticipation as he teased you. His words caused your body to ache as if signalling to you that you indeed missed the feel of him buried deep inside of you.

“Yes.” You gasped as he abruptly lifted you into his arms. You secured yourself tightly onto him, your heat pressed against his shirt.

“We’re about to change that.” You tugged on his locks, freeing them from the hair tie and running your fingers through them. He got to the bed and laid you down with him hovering above you. He devoured your mouth as his hands moved down your body, gripping you tightly. Teeth clashed with tongue as the kiss grew heavier. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his clothed hard cock on you.

“I love the sounds you make for me. So sweet.” He groaned as he took your hands and placed them above your head. You lifted your hips, trying to create some friction on your clit. Your soft panting made Lewis press even harder into you. “You just can’t help yourself can you? Humping me so desperately because you want me to fuck you.”

“Please, please.” You whimpered which caused him to chuckle. He bruised your lips with a rough kiss once more before he flipped you onto your stomach and parted your legs. You wiggled your hips as you patiently waited for him - you knew that he loved taking his time with you. He caressed the back of your thighs, kneading your ass and parting your cheeks.

“The prettiest pussy.” He said as he laid in between your legs and softly bit onto your thigh.

“You’re gonna eat it baby?” You asked him as you leaned back, feeling his beard on the inner part of your thigh.

“Yes pretty girl, I’m gonna eat your pussy and you’re going to cum all over my face.” Air faltered out of your lungs as he dragged his tongue down your slit and pulled your clit into his mouth. His hands pulled your cheeks further apart as he feasted on your pussy.

The sloppy sounds of Lewis eating your pussy mingled with your unfiltered moans. He groaned into your cunt and smacked your ass as he flicked his tongue even harder against your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned louder when he introduced his fingers into your cunt, immediately pressing down onto your g-spot. You grabbed onto the headboard and began grinding on his face faster and faster. His satisfied groans vibrated through your body as he worked your body with his mouth and fingers.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck! I’m gonna cum baby, I’m gonna fucking cum!” You gasped as you moved your hips until your body trembled with your first orgasm of the night. He licked your pussy until you were trying to throw your body away from him. He chuckled as he finally moved his lips away from your body and watched you collapse into the mattress.

“I hope you’re not tapping out just yet Princess. I’m just getting started.” He said as he stripped his clothes away from his body, leaving him bare between your legs. He flipped you onto your back and took your hands into his and from the side, he pulled the tie and bound your hands together and raised them above your head. Securing them on the headboard, he moved away from your body to search for condoms.

“Wait!” You yelled which halted his actions and he looked at you.

“What’s wrong Angel?” He asked you as he approached the bed and sunk beside you. As bound as you were, you leaned your body closer to his and held his eye contact.

“I want you to fuck me raw.” You told him.

“Baby …”

“Please? I’m clean and I’ve been on birth control for the past three months. I want to feel you come inside of me. I need it, please baby. Can you give that to me?”

��Fuuucckkk.” Lewis moaned as he grabbed your throat and shoved you into the bed as he situated himself in between your legs once more. Your eyes slightly rolled to the back of your head as he restricted your airwaves and rubbed the tip of his cock against your opening.

“Are you sure you want that with me? Because once I have you this way, there’s no going back. I’m going to want to fuck you just like this every time.” He warned as he coated himself in your slick. It was true what he was saying but you loved this man more than anything and this was going to be the next step. During a conversation, you had made it known that you loved the feel of your partner filling you up but it took an immense amount of trust for you to get to this point. With Lewis, you were there and you wanted him completely.

“I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure, I need you.” With that he pushed his cock inside of you, slowly until you were filled to the brim. With your air passage restricted and Lewis slow stroking you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the pleasure quickly intensified.

“Fucking hell Princess. You feel so fucking good like this.” He growled as he snapped his hips forwards. “You’re so fucking wet.”

You spread your legs even further for him to accommodate his body. Your mouth fell open as you looked in between your bodies where you connected and watched his dick move in and out of you, covered in your cream. His breath hitched in his throat as he disappeared in your folds. He was slowly losing his senses but he held onto his control as he guided himself deeper into you.

He was so thick and stretched you to your limits and you were taking it all. You wanted to touch him as your arms ached to reach out for him but the tie was digging into your wrists. He held onto your waist as he rocked himself into you, the weight of his body almost crushing you but it felt too good having him thrust in and out of you over and over again.

Your moans rang out until he shoved his fingers into your mouth, gagging you as he fucked you harder until you couldn’t breath. Your chest was burning but the pleasure was too much and all consuming. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and wrapped them around your neck once more as he pounded your cunt . The sound of your thighs slapping against each other with your wild moans echoed in the room.

Lewis leaned down and sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, slowing his pace and caressing your arms to soothe them from the ache from being stretched out. You whimpered into his mouth as he felt deeper this way as he rolled his hips.

“I love the way you handle me.” He whispered. You nodded your head in a daze as you could feel yourself tightening up causing him to groan into your jawline. He nibbled on your soft skin, kissing the bruising from his suckling on your neck earlier. He put his hand underneath your back, pulling you tighter against him which changed the angling of his thrusts which caused a gasp to leave you as he pushed against your spot. The tip of his cock hammered at it until you were trembling beneath him.

“Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck!” You cussed as your eyes closed and your mouth parted. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Come for me right fucking now.” He hissed against your cheek as he kept up with his momentum. He watched as you writhed beneath him, letting yourself go and soaking his dick and his thighs with your cream. “You look so beautiful when you come Princess. Do it again.”

He quickly untied your wrists and you wrapped them around his neck. He smacked the right side of your ass as his thrusts became more desperate. He tightly gripped your hips as he became more erratic and you could feel him swell inside of you.

His moans were getting louder with each thrust.

“Please come inside of me Lew.” You whispered as you looked up at him. His hand came to the back of your throat and pulled you in for a rough kiss, his grunts echoing into your mouth as the both of you got closer to the edge.

“Say it again.”

“Come inside of me! Please baby, fill me up. Wanna feel you please!”

“Fuck!” Lewis exclaimed before he dropped his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m gonna fill you up Princess. Gonna fuck my cum deep inside this pretty pussy.” He murmured as he kissed your shoulder. His word threw you over the edge as you clenched around him tighter and came yet again. Your orgasm triggering his own as his muscles tightened beneath your fingertips as he came deep inside of you. He held onto you as he twitched until he stopped coming.

Your soft breaths and caresses brought him out of his daze. Lewis lifted his head and kissed along your jawline until he captured your lips into a soft and slow kiss. He cupped your cheek with one hand and held his body up with his other as he watched you.

“How are you feeling beautiful?” He asked.

“Full.” Your answer caused him to chuckle before he slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered at the loss of him inside of you and clenched your muscles to keep his essence from dripping out.

“Stay right here.” He smacked your ass causing you to giggle. He walked to the bathroom, staying in there for a while as you closed your eyes to take in the moment. The intensity was different this time around - the both of you had crossed a line that you personally could not come back from.

You were his girlfriend now and that brought on a wave load of emotions that you weren’t able to deal with right now. You were happy and that’s all that mattered.

The bed dipped and you felt a warm cloth touch your thighs. He wiped you down, showering your body with kisses as he did so and after he was done, he grabbed a bottle of water and a fruit platter from the room fridge. Getting into the blankets, he wrapped his arm around you and you laid your head on his chest.

“You feeling okay baby?” He asked as he fed you grapes along with sips of water. You nodded your head as you looked up at him and pecked his lips.

“Today was amazing, thank you so much baby.” He cuddled you closer to his body and pecked your lips again.

“You deserve the world Princess and for as long as you want me, I’ll give it to you.” He murmured.

“You’re so fucking corny.” You mumbled which caused him to chuckle.

“But you love it.” He replied as he began to tickle you. You squealed as you tried moving your body away from him but he dragged you closer, continuing to tickle you anywhere that he could.

“Okay okay! I love it! Damn!” You yelled which caused him to stop.

“I have one more present for you.” Lewis said as he got out of the bed with his boxers hanging low on his hips. You bit onto your bottom lip as you watched his hips sway as he walked. His back was slightly red from your nails marking his skin making his back even more attractive to you. He bent down into his suitcase and grabbed onto a black velvet box.

He came back and sat on the bed beside you and placed the box on your chest. You sat up and took the box into your hand.

“What is it?”

“Just open it.”

And when you did, your eyes were greeted with a necklace with his initials as the pendant. The letters were encrusted with white diamonds along with the chain.

“I had gotten this as a way to show you that I truly mean it when I say I’m committed to you. I don’t take this relationship lightly and sometimes when I say stuff, it’ll come out as corny but I mean it, it’s how I feel about you. There’s no hiding with you YN, I’m proud to be your boyfriend.”

“Fuck.” You sniffed as tears began to line your eyes yet again. You placed the box on the side as you grabbed his face and captured his lips. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue slipped into yours.

“I love you.” You whispered in between the kiss.

“I love you too. So, so much.” He replied as he pulled away from you and laid his forehead against yours. You hugged him before you pulled him down with you onto the bed. He shifted his body underneath the duvet and in between your legs.

“We go together, like real bad.” You grinned as he pressed his hardening cock against the inner part of your thigh. Your body was becoming hot all over again as you pushed his boxers away from his hips.

“I like the sound of that.” He replied as he held onto your chin as he kissed you once more …

lewishamilton

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lewishamilton this Valentine’s Day I was blessed with a love beyond measure. Thank you for loving me the way you do Princess 💜.

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f1wags: what a lovely surprise! congratulations! 💕

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katiexpunk · 4 months

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To Protect & Serve, Part 1 | Pairing officer!Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a small-town reporter, living a life dedicated solely to your work and the relentless pursuit of truth. It's all pretty routine, almost too easy, albeit exhausting. Little did you know that the one thing you could never have predicted was the arrival of Officer Joel Miller. Suddenly, your story takes an unexpected turn, writing itself in ways you could have only dreamt of as he shows you what it really means to protect and serve. Part 1 Summary: You spent all day in the newsroom again, only to wake up at midnight. Your drive home is anything but smooth. You end up on the side of the road, freezing and wet from the relentless rain, struggling to change your tire. You're about to give up hope, that is until Officer Joel Miller shows up to assist. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~5.1K Part 1 Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. Honestly, you should just expect that from me at this point (Katie Core Slow Burn™). Set in 1994 because I said so. Reader has no major physical descriptions. Joel is literally a cop in this -- so typical cop references (guns, badges, uniforms, bulletproof vests, radios, a Crown Vic cruiser, etc.). Reader has a Nokia brick phone. Reader is a reporter, so heavy on the news and reporter references (her story and what she is investigating will come in future parts). Sarah is alive and well in this and is into art. Reader has a bad day. Blown tire. Rain. Bad luck. Competency kink. Uniform kink. Bad dad jokes. Flirting. Joel and reader share a piece of cherry pie. Officer Joel Miller is a gentleman. Authors Note: Happy 2024! My first fic of the year. Minimally edited, sorry if there are typos. This series will eventually be VERY heavy on the smut, and on back story, and will slowly build up the world they both live in. You're in this one for the long haul with me, babes. Buckle up -- it's the law. ;)

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

January 1994

You blink your eyes open and groan, the aroma of stale coffee and the faint hint of ink lingers in your nostrils.

Your desk is strewn with stacks of notes, crumpled papers, and empty takeout cartons that bare the remnants of hurried meals consumed during your relentless pursuit of the truth.

Crime surely doesn’t stop for a proper lunch break, so why should you? It was your resolution this year to pack more healthy lunches, but here you are – not even three weeks into the New Year and already knee-deep in Pad Thai.

The soft glow from your desk lamp highlights the fatigue etched on your face as you rub your tired eyes. You check the strappy black watch on your wrist – just past midnight.

Another night of burning the midnight oil.

You stare at the computer screen, and the blinking cursor patiently waiting for you to pick up where you left off. You consider staying another hour, but think twice of it; sure that the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain on the windows in the newsroom would soothe you like a lullaby and you’d end up spending an all nighter in the newsroom. Again.

With a sigh, you gather the papers that have collected on your desk in masses as of late and stuff them into your briefcase in no real order. You know they’ll just end up fanned out on your desk tomorrow morning, anyway. You turn off the computer, and an audible mechanic sound of it powering down gives the impression that it’s grateful for the much-needed break as you are.

As you grab your coat and make your way to the exit, the newsroom seems to exhale, settling into a peaceful calm. The door behind you slams closed, and the distant echo of thunder snaps at the same time, causing you to jump a little at the sound. You really should lay off the caffeine. Navigating the dimly lit hallway, you reach the elevator, its soft chime signaling your descent to ground level. Each step feels heavy, your body pleading for rest.

Once in the elevator it hits you that you don’t have an umbrella.

Shit.

++++

You sprint to your silver sedan as fast as you can in the loafers you chose for the day. Cute and comfy enough, but not exactly ideal to relive your glory days on the track team. By the time you get to your car, you’re out of breath and soaked, your makeshift umbrella with your coat barely sparing you from the rain.

You slide into the worn driver's seat, and the familiar scent of aged leather and cigarette smoke surrounds you as you turn the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life. You blast the air, but turn it off once you realize how cold it is. You decide to wait until the car is warmed up, not wanting to turn into a popsicle in your wet blouse.

You sit in the parking lot for what feels like an hour, holding your hands under your armpits for warmth, before deciding the engine is warm enough to turn the heat back on. You place one hand behind the passenger seat headrest and look over your shoulder as you pull out of the parking lot.

The rain continues to cascade down, and your shitty windshield wipers struggle to keep up, giving a deafening squeak with each pass across the glass. Annoyed, you turn the radio dial up just enough to drown out the sound of the whirring blades with Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.

You try to focus on the poorly lit road ahead of you, the dashed white lines blurring behind the wall of water on your windshield as the downpour intensifies. Water congregates in small pools on the edges of the weathered road, occasionally splashing all the way up on the sides of the car, and under the tire wells.

A knot tightens in your stomach as the road becomes a murky blur, adding a layer of stress you most definitely don’t need right now. It’s nights like tonight that you wish you had actually gotten new tires, like you have meant to for the past four – okay, six – months. Your bald tires are barely hanging on like a thread. It’s really only a matter of time before –

Suddenly, a deafening pop echos through the car, startling you. The steering wheel transforms into a wild animal, one you struggle to wrangle back into submission. You grab the leather steering wheel with a death grip, and steer into the skid and pump your brakes, eventually managing to bring the car to a safe stop on the side of the road.

Your eyes fall closed as soon as the car is totally still. You lean back into the leather headrest and try to recenter yourself, level out the adrenaline pulsing through your veins. You silently kick yourself. Oh, they’ll be fine. I just drive to work and back, you reasoned with yourself, the guys at the shop are probably trying to get you to buy new tires before you even need them. Some shit-grinning, mansplaining mechanic sounds good right about now.

You reach into your briefcase for your Nokia, patting around the mix of papers for the device, but it’s nowhere to be found.

As if this night couldn’t get any worse.

Oh wait, it can. You’re at least three miles from anything. Most of the time you don’t mind living in a small town, but with the way tonight is going, you swear you’re gonna move East to some big city, live out your days with people on every corner, nary a cow or an empty road in sight.

But for right now, you’re on your own.

You’ve changed a tire before, sure. It was one of the first things your dad insisted you know how to do before getting your license. “If you’re gonna drive a vehicle, you gotta know how to take care of it, sweet pea,” he said. God, you hate it when he’s right.

Already drenched, you decide to lean into it, this time fully zipping up your coat for warmth, knowing it’s not going to really do much, but it’s better than nothing. You brace for impact as you open the car door and assess the damage – the back passenger side tire is shredded, and the vehicle leans at an awkward slant from the missing support.

You open the trunk and struggle to retrieve the spare tire, wiggling it out by the base. You roll it over to the blown tire and grab the rest of the necessary tools neatly packaged in a workbag.

As you work in the pouring rain, a chill seeping deep into your bones, you struggle to loosen one of the lug nuts. Your frustration only grows from the wet wrench that keeps slipping out of your hands. “Oh comeeeee on, you bastard,” you yell at the bolt, hoping it might somehow understand and decide to loosen. You pause, your breaths a little short and your fingers sore from your bruising grip. You give it one more go, letting out a loud groan as you put all of your strength into twisting the bolt to loosen it, but it’s a futile effort.

“Fuck!” you scream out, your hair tacked to your face, your knees and shins now muddy, your entire outfit drenched. You drop the wrench in your palms, and replace it with your forehead. You’re beginning to cry, when out of the peripheral of your vision, you see it – the flashing lights of a cop car rolling up behind your vehicle.

The beam of the headlights slightly blinds you as you watch a tall, broad man step out of the vehicle. You can’t really see his face, only his silhouette, but you feel your body warm by an entire degree when his voice, low and smooth, calls out.

“Having some car trouble here, ma’am?” he inquiries, a blend of professionalism and concern behind his tone. You blink up at him through wet lashes and watch as he strides closer to you. His heavy boots hit the pavement with a thud, and the raindrops bounce off the greased tops of them.

You scan him from the ground up; his fitted uniform pants, a duty belt with several accessories pinned to it, most notably the firearm holstered on his right hip; a bulletproof vest affixed tightly to his frame, a little bit of belly poking out between his belt and the edge of the vest. He’s clad in a warm puffy coat that seems to repeal the water still barreling down on the pair of you.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you scan past his badge, catching a glimpse of his nameplate that’s partially covered by his jacket. You continue up his firm neck, over the thin line of his lips, his aquiline nose, and pause once your gaze meets his. And whoa.

Even in the dark and the rain, you can tell he is dangerously handsome, which is saying something given his profession. His beard is threaded with lines of silver, and neatly kept. His skin is a little sun-weathered, but it gives him a warm look to him, one that you’d love nothing more than to dive into like a pool right about now. He has bold, deep brown eyes, ones that convey a mix of softness and a no nonsense demeanor. He has a commanding presence but somehow feels safe.

Still kneeling on the ground, you reflexively wrap your arms around your own body in an attempt to get warm. You’re positive you must look like a sad wet stray, all puppy dog eyes begging for help; helpless and alone.

“My u–uh, my, my tire blew out,” you stammer, your teeth clacking against one another as your whole body shakes. At least when you were dueling with the lug nut, you didn’t have to think about how cold you actually are right now. “Forgot phone, umbrella – bolt not loosening,” you try to continue, but your words aren’t really making much sense, too caught up in your body’s response to the frigid air. “Jesus, sweetheart. Gonna catch your death out here all wet like this. Come here, let me help you up,” he says as he offers you his large palm. You place yours into it and rise to stand, and even though his hands are just as exposed as yours, he radiates heat.

You sigh in relief as he guides you to the passenger side of his cruiser. He opens the door and encourages you inside, “watch your head now,” he cautions, as you sink down into the vinyl seat.

Water pools onto the floor beneath and you squeeze your own frame and try to ignore the sting of your cold appendages and your numb toes. He leans across you to turn the heat all the way up and he tilts the vents to face you. With him this close, you pick up the faint smell of coffee and spearmint gum. As he backs away, his eyes catch yours, and you don’t miss the way they flicker to your lips for a brief moment.

“Stay here,” he commands, before he’s rounding around to his trunk to grab something.

He returns with an oversized black sweater, a badge embroidered onto the breast of it. It’s a little damp from the short walk from the trunk back to your door, but certainly drier than any part of you. He also has a small towel in hand.

“Here, this should help you warm up a bit,” he says, and you greedily accept them. “I’ll see what I can do about that tire of yours” he offers, “can I have your keys, please?” he asks, and you reach into your pocket and hand them over to him. Before you can get in a word of thanks, the corner his lip lifts in a small smile and he’s nods before he shuts the passenger door and walks over to your car.

You hastily swap out your jacket and your damp blouse for the sweater and melt into the thick wool fibers of it, grateful for even the little bit of reprieve, even if the fabric is a little scratchy. You use the small towel to scrunch some of the water from your hair, dry your face, and clear the mud from your legs. Your bottom half is still drenched, but it’s considerably better than before.

With the hot air of the heater blasting on high, your skin slowly starts to warm and the goosebumps that once littered your body begin to recede. Now able to focus, you take in your surroundings.

There’s a thermos of what you can assume is coffee given the aroma in the car in the drivers side door. A blinking radio, mounted to the center of the dash, sits adjacent to the microphone next to it. To your back, the middle of the car is split with a cage, the back of the car looks cold and hard. There’s a series of switches next to the gear shift, the lights and sirens you assume. A lone chocolate Hostess cupcake sits in the center console cup holder, next to a pack of spearmint gum. Called it.

You bring your attention back to the windshield, watching the officer engage in the same battle you did with the wrench. You haven’t seen his arms, but given the general size of him, you wager he’s probably pretty fit, and yet – he struggles.

You’re not trying to stare, not really, but there’s something endearing about watching a man at work, not at all bothered by the fuss or annoyance around him, and if he is, he doesn’t show it. As he’s working with it, there’s another crack of thunder that causes you to jump, and the night sky illuminates with the strong strike of lightening for a brief moment.

You watch as he works at it for a few moments longer, before he himself eventually decides to give up. He makes quick work of putting everything back into the trunk of your car, and locks your doors before he does a little sprint back to the drivers side of his cruiser.

Once inside the car, he cards his fingers through his now soaking hair. He’s nearly as wet as you were, but he certainly wears it better than you, you think. You hand him the damp hand towel and he uses it to wipe off his hands.

“Sorry Darlin’, the bolts are on there pretty good. Couldn’t even get it to budge. Think you’re gonna have to call for a tow,” he says, his voice thick like honey.

“Ugh, I thought so. Thank you so much for trying, Officer –” you trail off, granting him the space to give you his name.

“Miller,” he adds, “at your service, ma’am” he concludes with a smile. He extends his large palm to you for the second time tonight. You return his kindness by extending yours and offering him your name. He holds it for a beat second longer than etiquette would say to, only breaking the grip once his attention navigates to the sight of you in his sweater.

He thinks about flirting with you, saying something along the lines of him having to cite you for looking too cute like this, but he thinks twice about it. He’s good at a lot of things, but his flirting is well out of practice. Instead, he says –

“You hungry? There’s this little cafe not too far from here – Jo, JoJo somethin’ or other,” he asks. You look at him and can’t help the little smile that curls on your lips.

“Joe’s Cafe,” you say, helping him out. He must be new here.

“That’s the one,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Hear they have the best cherry pie in the whole state, I’ve been meaning to check it out since I moved here. Beats waiting here in the rain for the tow,” he adds, trying to play it cool, but he thinks you might notice the eagerness in his voice anyway.

“Officer Miller, you’re really kind, but I’m sure you have better things to do than sit in a diner and keep me company while I wait for a tow,” you add. Your words don’t reflect it, but deep down you secretly hope he pushes further.

“Who said anything about me keeping you company? I gotta date with that pie, baby. Was on my way there when I ran into you. You’re just along for the ride,” he says with a confident wink. Okay, maybe he’s not totally out of practice.

“Oh great, a third wheel to a slice of a pie. Talk about a cherry on top of my night,” you say, a teasing tone behind your voice, a little too proud of your terrible joke, a little flustered by the fact that he called you baby.

He looks at you with a wide smile and shakes his head as he pulls out from behind your car, the wet gravel crunching under the tires as he does. You watch it disappear in the passenger side mirror.

“Names Joel,” by the way, he says, shifting his eyes from the road to glance at you.

“Joel,” you whisper, and the way his name rolls off your tongue is easy.

A little too easy. Warm and sweet, like the last bite of a cinnamon roll.

++++

On your way to the diner, you ask Joel to borrow his cell phone so you can call for a tow. The man on the other line sounds half awake when he answers, “Yeah? Ray’s Towing,” he says, a curt tone behind his voice. You tell him you need a tow, and Joel confidently tells you the mile marker your vehicle is parked closest to, and you relay it over the line to who you can only assume is Ray himself.

“You’re clear across town, not gonna be able to make it out to you tonight. Can swing by to pick it up in the morning, though,” he says. You try to protest, but it’s a pointless fight, you can already tell he’s not going to budge.

In the middle of your negotiation, Joel pulls up to the cafe and kills the engine as he waits for you to finish up. You notice the small crease in between his brows, now clearly visible under the illumination of the 24/7 red neon sign that hangs in the window. You don’t notice it right away, but the rain has eased up, now only coming down in a light mist. “Okay. Tomorrow then. Mile Marker 181, it’s a Silver Sedan – you can’t miss it. Tow it to Tess’ place, and I’ll meet you there,” you tell him. The man gives a gruff grunt of agreement, “8am,” he says, hanging up before you can get another word in.

You drop the phone from your ear, staring at it, slightly in disbelief. You look back at Joel, and hand the heavy brick back to him.

“He’s not gonna pick it up tonight, won’t come till tomorrow morning,” you say, and Joel senses the hint of concern behind your voice. “I don’t know how i’m gonna get to work tomorrow,” he says.

“I can take you,” he offers, a sincerity behind his voice.

“Joel, I can’t – that’s too much, no,” you respond, shaking your head side to side as you do.

“No really, it’s not a problem. My shift starts at 9, I can take you there on my way to the station,” he offers casually, reassuring; like this isn’t the second time he’s saved your ass and you’ve only known him for less than an hour.

You stare back at him, and you can tell from the way he looks at you, that he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“If you’re sure, then,” you say, a questioning tone behind your voice.

“‘M sure,” he responds confidently. “Now c’mon, don’t want my date to think I’m late,” he jokes and you let out a genuine laugh for what feels like the first time in a long time.

“Can’t have that,” you retort. You go to pull the handle on your door, but Joel stops you. “I got it,” he says, opening his and quickly maneuvering around the front of the car to your door, pulling it open for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you tell him. You attempt to compose yourself – trying not to think too hard about the fact that you must look like a hot mess right now – as you follow Joel to the entrance. He opens the door for you, because of course, he does.

“After you, darlin’,” he says.

++++

The soft hum of the cafe’s neon lights casts a warm glow on the worn checkered tablecloth as you sit in the booth across from one another. The waitress doesn’t even bother to ask, she can tell from one look that you’re both in desperate need of something warm to drink.

“Decaf or regular” she says, setting the mugs down on the table. “Decaf,” you and Joel both say at the same time. She fills filling them both with a long stream of hot black liquid from the carafe with the orange handle before she turns around to place the pot on the table behind her.

“You ready to order,” she asks, pulling the pen from behind her ear, steadying it over pad.

“Well I think we’re still waiting on one more,” you start to joke, your eyes locked on Joels as you lift the ceramic mug to your lips in an attempt to hide your smile. A warmth creeps up on your face as he gives you a stern look.

“Don’t listen to her,” he tells the waitress, “we’ll take a piece of cherry pie, please.”

“Mhmm,” the waitress nods, annoyed that she even took out her pen in the first place for such a small order. “That all?”

“And a side of vanilla ice cream,” you pipe up.

“Got it,” she says, before walking away, leaving you and Joel alone in the booth. Given the hour, you’re the only ones in the restaurant apart from the waitress and the chef in the back.

“Ice cream?” he asks, one of his eyebrows raised. “You were just freezing like 20 minutes ago,” he says, confused. He fidgets with the spoon that rests on the white paper napkin as he waits for you to respond. You wonder if you make him nervous.

“Yeah, vanilla ice cream. It’s a must with this pie,” you say, reaching across the table for the sugar. You rip it open and pour in the contents of the pink packet into the mug and stir, “especially for your first time…trust me,” you conclude, letting out a satisfied hum at the sweet black liquid that warms your insides.

“I trust you,” he says with a smile, his eyes trained on your face. Finally seeing him under normal lighting conditions permits you to notice the flecks of amber around his irises, but that’s not the only thing you notice. A heat swirls in your belly, and not just from the coffee, once you see the single dimple on his right cheek.

“So tell me, Joel, where are you from? Cuz you’re certainly not from around here,” you ask.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, leaning into your playful tone, nursing his own coffee.

“Well, for starters, you didn’t know the name of this place, and it’s like an institution in these parts. And to top it off, I’ve lived here my whole life. You can’t have been here long or I’m sure we would have met,” you say, a confident tone behind your voice, like it’s a matter of fact.

“That so? Why’s that?” he asks, not denying any of your initial assessment.

“I’m a reporter for the Tribune. It’s my job to know things, to know people, especially hot mystery cops who like to fix tires in the rain for random women on the side of the road,” you say.

“You think I’m hot?” He asks, a blush to his cheeks. And shit. Freudian slip.

“No, that’s no – that’s not, I mean, you are hot, but that’s not what I,” but before you can continue, you’re interrupted by the waitress placing a rather large piece of cherry pie in the middle of the table.

“‘S alright, Darlin.’ You think I’m hot, you can admit it,” he says, grabbing the spoon, dipping it into the thick red mess of cherry and crust, the colors diluting to pink with the melt of the vanilla ice cream.

He takes a big bite, and groans in delight, letting his eyes close as he savors the taste. “‘Sides, you’re not wrong. I haven’t been here for long. Just got here last month, moved here from Austin,” he says, already digging in for a second bite by the time you’re going for your first.

You look at him intently, patiently, waiting for him to continue in between bites, “My daughter, Sarah, got accepted into a young artists program here. ‘S all she talks about. And well, I was able to make a lateral transfer to this station from Austin, so it was a no-brainer, really,” he says.

“How old’s your daughter?” you ask, your spoon dancing with his for the sweet goodness for a second as you do.

“14 going on 25,” he jokes, “keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. Keep hoping she won’t start bringing boys around for another, oh I don’t know, 15 years or so, but I feel like that’s a battle ‘m set to lose,” he sighs, as he takes the second to last bite of pie, pushing the plate to you, his eyes telling you that the last bite is all yours.

You can’t help but smile at the thought of Joel, a man who faces more frightening things daily, nervous for his teenage daughter to go on a date. You scoop up the final bite of pie and swallow it. You keep the spoon in your mouth, running the cool metal of it over your tongue, relishing in the way Joel can't seem to look at anything but the way it moves over your plush lips.

“What about you then? Did you always want to be a reporter?” he asks, finishing off the rest of his coffee.

“Since I was a little girl,” you admit. "I used to eavesdrop on conversations at family gatherings, sneakily flip through my parents' old photo albums, imagining the tales behind each photo" you continue, your eyes flickering with a spark of that same childlike curiosity you had then. "And I had this little notepad where I'd jot down my observations, like a tiny detective with a pen and paper."

Joel Chuckles, "Sounds like you were a reporter-in-training from the start."

You nod, a soft laughter escaping you. "I suppose you could say that. I loved the idea of bringing untold stories to light, giving voices to the unheard. It felt like a calling even before I fully understood what it meant,” you conclude, running the pad of your finger over your now empty coffee cup. Transfixed, Joel watches the simple movement. And once again, the waitress with her impeccably terrible timing, interrupts once again, stopping Joel before he can continue with his questions. You immediately dart your hand out to grab the bill, and he does the same, but you are faster. His heavy palm lands on top of yours, and your eyes lock in charged silence. "Officer Miller, you've been a real help. Seriously, let me cover this one. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me tonight," you insist, your gratitude evident in your voice.

"It's just Joel, darlin'," he replies, releasing your hand to allow you to grab the bill. "And thank you," he adds, a sincerity laced behind his words.

With a decisive motion, you throw a twenty on the table, checking the time. "Getting late -- I should probably head home," you say, and Joel nods in agreement. However, inexplicably, you both linger, anchored to your seats. It's as if the sensible part of your brain urges departure, yet your bodies resist the inevitable parting. The cafe's ambiance seems to cocoon you both in a lingering warmth, the afterglow of the moment refusing to dissipate.

Joel stands up first, and you follow suit. His large hand finds the small of your back, and he guides you back to his cruiser. He opens the passenger for you again, but this time he doesn’t tell you to watch your head, you already know. You give him your address, and you both ride in comfortable silence.

Joel pulls up into your driveway, the engine purrs softly before falling silent. You both pause in silence. He turns to you, a smirk on his lips “We’re here,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of I don’t want to say goodbye yet behind it.

He walks you to your front door. The tension in the air is palpable as you both stand there, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a simple white business card, and hands it to you. You look down and see the words Officer Joel Miller printed on it in dull black ink, his badge number and phone number under it. There's an emboss of a police badge to the right of the text, giving your thumbs something pleasant to glide over.

“You know, I’m not sure driving reporters around is part of the oath to protect and serve,” you say.

“Means a lot more than you might think, Darlin’,” he responds.

You fiddle with the paper card in your hand, before offering him a kind smile.

“See you tomorrow, then,” you say sweetly, before pressing the door open.

“Tomorrow,” he nods before heading back down your porch.

Closing the door behind you, you lean your back against it, feeling the solid support. A smile, blooms on your face, radiating a joy that mirrors the first buds of spring. It’s been so long since you’ve felt an excitement about something that wasn’t work.

As Joel walks back to his cruiser, he too, can’t help the cheesy grin that washes across his face.

He likes to think of himself as an intuitive man. It’s part of what makes him a good cop, and part of what he thinks will make him an excellent detective one day.

And if there’s one thing he can tell for certain right now is that you’re going to be trouble – lots and lots of trouble.

And fuck, he hopes you are.

TO BE CONTINUED

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#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller series #officer!Joel Miller #joel miller #uniform kink #competency kink #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories

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craisinsensation1029 · 2 months

Text

She Missed Me v.2

Hiromi Higuruma

so i did write another version of this, but i like this one a bit better hahaha cus uh... there's penetration lmfao. also i actually edited this one. this one is also on AO3 :)

established relationship (engaged woooo), pussy eating, Hiromi just being a munch meister, he literally talks to ur pussy like fr, vaginal sex, he talks u thru it, pet names, teeny tiny daddy kink, praise kink, implied cockwarming, soft sex, I guess its cute like if u squint

3.2k

MDNI

To put it simply, Higuruma is in love with your pussy. He’s so in love with your pussy, actually.

If he could, he would propose to it the same way he did to you just a few months ago. He will always love you more of course, but he would be more than happy to put it on paper, a loud and proud declaration of just how devoted he is to your cunt.

The appearance, whether it’s freshly waxed and completely bare, or with a small little landing strip that guides him to the riches that are your slick folds. Or even when the hair is grown out, peach fuzz tickling his face as he gets ready to dive in and devour you. He really doesn’t care what he’ll find when he pulls your panties down. Better yet, when you lift up the cheeky little skirts and dresses you love wearing and showing him that you aren’t wearing any panties at all. Those times admittedly, turn him on to a degree that some may find alarming.

And that’s not all there is to love appearance wise, oh no. Far from it. When his hands finally do trail down and part your thighs, he always has to stop himself from salivating. Oh how he just loves seeing your little clit, adores sucking it into his mouth until it’s engorged and swollen. Watching you whine and cry out because it’s just too much for you to handle. But how can he really stop himself when he knows how good it feels for you (and in these instances, he ignores the self indulgence sucking on your bud provides for himself). It doesn’t stop there either. Seeing your folds glistening after he gets you off from clitoral stimulation alone, the excitement in knowing his tongue is going to add to the mess.

Then there’s the smell. He doesn’t even know how to describe it, but it’s just so invigorating. Not quite sweet but far from sour. A natural redolence that he wishes he can bottle up and spray whenever he needs a fix.

Lastly, there’s the taste. They always say save the best for last, but even he can admit that he can be a glutton. There aren’t enough words on the planet to describe just how much he loves your nectar; a true ambrosia that is incomparable to anything else that has landed on his taste buds. He can spend hours between your thighs, licking and sucking at you like a man who has been stranded at sea for years and is now relishing in something delectable for the first time.

A true amalgamation that makes him savor every look, every sniff, every touch, every taste.

It's nothing short of an obsession. It would be easy to argue that it's borderline sick how much he loves your pussy, but it's an affliction he wishes to never rid himself of.

It’s the only thing on his mind when he’s having a long day at work, information pertaining to the cases of his clients paling in comparison to the thought of having his face buried between your thighs. Physically he’s sitting across from a client, taking notes and nodding but mentally he’s swimming in your essence, drowning himself in your arousal. He's visited many countries and has indulged in many delicacies, picturesque sights and delicious food people would kill to experience as often as he has. Yet, he feels the most solace when he's home with the greatest treasure there is.

When he can finally log off of his computer and make his way home, he knows there’s only one remedy to the drawn out day. Lucky for him, what he needs is always in stock.

The aroma of your cooking hugs his nostrils when he enters the house, but there’s another scent that will provide him with even more ecstasy. After shrugging off his coat and standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his shoulders slump in relaxation when he sees you. A true virtuoso in everything you do, you move around the kitchen with ease, reaching to one of the higher cabinets where some of the many seasonings are. Summer Walker’s voice over the bluetooth speaker prevents you from hearing his footsteps, so he just stares in admiration for a moment.

Working always finds itself to be fruitful when he has you to come home to. As you bob your head and hum along softly to the song playing he takes a step forward letting his arms encircle your waist, lips brushing along the shell of your ear as he sighs against the softness of your body.

“Hi, ‘Romi,” you say softly, letting your body relax into his touch, melding into him. It’s almost like a reflex, letting your body be cradled by him.

“Hi, baby,” he murmurs, lips moving lower to kiss at the supple skin of your neck, hands pulling you back against him.

“How was work?” you question.

“Long. So long.” He can admit to himself he’s already a bit hard, cock stirring from the moment he parked in the driveway. Probably even before that if he's being completely truthful. His pants were a bit tight as soon as he left the office. “Need you to help me relax.”

“How?” Now, you aren’t oblivious to the affection he loves showering your cunt with, but hearing him saying it always fans the flames of your arousal. Hearing the man that's always so put together voice aloud his lewd thoughts just always riles you up. “Tell me.”

"You really wanna hear?" A soft chuckle leaves his lips and is buried into your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as his hands dip down to the apex of your thighs. He's never been much of a patient man, letting one thumb brush over your clothed clit. “Need to see her,” he says softly. “Been missing and thinking about her all day.”

The words make you clench around nothing, and you can already feel his hardening cock against your ass. The big shirt of his that you're wearing is no match for his bulge.

“C’mon,” Higuruma mutters, lips still sucking against the sensitive portions of your neck, one hand still working at teasing your clit over the shirt. “I know she missed me too.”

And in the blink of an eye you’re sitting on the couch—cooking dinner abruptly paused—with his head sandwiched between your thighs. The slight stubble from a few days of not shaving tickles, but you don't mind.

You can always tell how his day went from how needy he is. On days he doesn’t find as taxing he always starts with showering the lips on your face with kisses, letting his tongue claim the inside of your mouth. A day like today though, the lips below your waist get attention first. You have no issues with that though, none at all.

A small wet patch sits directly in his line of vision as he lets out a sigh of content. “She’s crying for me,” he mumbles. “Guess she missed me as much as I missed her.”

He inches in closer, letting his nose trail up the length of your clothed slit, moaning as your scent invades his nostrils. Your wetness against the bridge of his nose is just a plus as he makes his way up to your clit. He does it again, just letting his nose nuzzle against your cunt, letting your arousal coat his face, breathing in your scent. Already so pussy drunk and he hasn’t even had a taste yet.

His palms find sanctuary on top of your thighs and squeeze as he continues to let his face hug your cunt, nose brushing against your clit deliciously (and very much deliberately) each time.

“Sh-She did,” you breathe out, chest heaving each time he nuzzles against your sensitive bud. He’s doing it on purpose, just teasing, but you know better than to rush him.

“I can tell, baby.” He looks up, lust filling every space in those negative canthal eyes you adore so much. “Gonna take care of her now, don’t worry.” He pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, eyes filled with merriment when he sees your glistening slit, wet spot having grown since he got comfortable between your legs.

His impatience can never be confused with sloppiness. Without wasting time he flattens his tongue against your slit, coating every single one of his taste buds with your nectar. His greed always makes the movements of his tongue calculated, meticulous. He moans in satisfaction, being able to enjoy this reward for sitting in that stuffy office all day. Tropical vacations are nice, but having his tongue lapping at your cunt provides him with just as much tranquility. There isn't a five star meal that can compare to your taste, the one that he's been addicted to from the very first moment you blessed him by opening up your legs and telling him you've never came from head before.

Boy did he show you. And he showed you again, and again, and again.

A moan leaves your lips as his tongue continues to lick at your folds. You know better than to squirm, having been accused of trying to run from him before, but he never understands just how intense the feeling is. He can eat you every night for weeks and it wouldn't change the pleasure he's able to provide you with.

"Fuck, really needed this today." He doesn’t even care how hard he is, only caring about shoving his tongue as deep as he physically can inside your cunt. He keeps working at you, slurping and sucking, letting his head move from side to side.

"Hi--Hiromi, th-that's s'good."

"Yeah?" His hands grip your plush thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he continues dragging his tongue up and down your slit, teasing at your rings of muscle with the point of his tongue as he does. "God, she's trying to drown me," he chuckles lightly, admiring the slickness of your heat. Swimming has always been one of his strong suits though, so he dives back in with more vigor this time. All the while his nose bumps against your clit, little bud past the point of swollen but there isn’t a chance you’ll tell him to stop.

“Always so fucking good, baby,” he murmurs, giving you momentary reprieve as he plants wet kisses along your inner thighs. You’re able to catch your breath for only a moment, but he’s not done. Far from it.

Two masterful fingers circle your entrance before pushing their way inside, met with little resistance as his digits are instantly being hugged by your warm walls. “Already squeezing me so tight." His cock throbs as your walls grip his digits. "I just knew she was thinking about me, maybe I should quit working so I can take care of her full time.” You writhe, cunt clenching around his digits as he pushes them in so he’s knuckle deep. He curls them so they brush against that sweet spot inside of you, a whine escaping from your lips. "What do you think of that, baby?"

"Hah—I—"

He presses against your g-spot again, making it hard to speak. "Hm?" He isn’t expecting an answer, just watching your body contort in pleasure. "Want Daddy to take care of this pussy all day, don't you?"

"Ye-Yeah," you whimper out, hips shifting.

"Maybe one of these days, Daddy still has to make money to take care of you," he mumbles, eyeing your clit. “But, let me give her a kiss. Know she missed me the most.”

Your breath catches in your throat when his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking the pearl—his crowned jewel—into his mouth. His grip on your thighs tighten and his cocks throbs in tandem with the pulsing of your cunt as he continues curling his fingers against your g spot. He doesn’t care how loud you moan or how fidgety you are, undeterred from his make out session with your cute little clit. Oh, how much he missed her.

It's impossible to part with someone you've missed when you see them. He only raises momentarily to let his tongue lap at the wetness enveloping his fingers before he’s back on your clit, alternating between hard and soft sucks.

Every moan of his that vibrates against your clit brings the band holding your orgasm closer and closer to snapping. He presses one hand against your stomach, applying more pressure while he sucks your clit harshly, peering up at you as he does. “Come on,” he urges. “Wanna taste more of her, come for me baby. Give it all to me.”

“F-Fuckkk.” Listening to Higuruma’s demands should be one of the ten commandments. His words make you release instantly, catapulting to a plane of pure ecstasy as your walls clamp down around his fingers erratically.

He slowly pulls them out, slurping at the string of wetness that connects his fingers to your cunt. Next he laps up your cum, shamelessly moaning. “Fuck.” He looks down at his cock, desperately straining against his slacks. “I think there’s a little bit more I can do to show how much I missed her,” he says, undoing the button on his slacks. “Let me show you baby.”

Your chest is still heaving from your orgasm, but you lay on your back on the couch as Higuruma swiftly undresses, his slacks, blazer, dress shirt and boxer briefs in a haphazard pile on the floor.

He lays on top of you, lifting up the fabric of your shirt to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. The peak stiffens and you can’t help but moan as his hot tongue swirls around the bud. He kisses the space in between your breasts as his mouth gives your other nipple the same treatment, never one to miss pleasuring every part of your body. As his teeth gently bite down on your nipple, his hand is guiding his stiff cock to your entrance, tip rubbing against your swollen bud.

“Oh.” You writhe beneath him at the combined sensations, the light pain of his teeth along with the overstimulation of your clit, but it’s good, so.good.

“I know, I know baby,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Need to feel her…”

You nod, desperate to be stretched and filled with his cock, the only one you think about and crave.

He lets the head of his cock brush against your clit again, letting his precome smear over it before he goes down to your slit, a grunt leaving his lips as he makes his way inside.

And how could he forget to mention the feel of your cunt in his earlier soliloquy. It’s tightness, its warmth, the way your walls have molded to take every single inch of him. Like a hot bubble bath after a demanding day, a cup of hot cocoa on the coldest day of the year, a sweater embroidered with his name on it, he finds comfort and ease when he’s buried deep inside of you.

The soft hairs on his chest brush against your breasts as he lets his weight settle on top of you, hips pressed together as the last inch of his heavy cock finds its home in your warm walls. His cock pulses as you clamp, a practiced song and dance as your arms snake around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist.

You’re always so warm, lighting up Higuruma from the inside out. The only thing that’s cold is the band of the engagement ring on your finger on the back of his neck, but that iciness is as sweet as ice cream; a reminder that you belong to each other, an alignment of affection and mingling of souls.

“Hiromi,” you pant against his lips, grinding your hips against him.

“Just give me a minute,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours as his cock throbs again. “God, wish I could just stay like this all day with you.”

Your chest heaves against his as you urge his head closer to yours, capturing his lips in a kiss. The exchange of spit as your tongues slide against each other is amorous as ever, his hand moving up to gently caress the side of your face as the kiss grows more intense.

He starts to move, hips retracting and plunging into you while your lips are still connected. Each thrust is deep, reaching that spot inside of you that makes your legs tremor. But you still cling to him, insistent on having him as close to you as possible.

“God, she’s always sucking me in,” he grits out as his hips drive forward again. It’s a particularly deep thrust, one where you swear you feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock. Yet, it feels so natural, like your body was made just for him to blissfully invade with his girth. “So perfect, so fucking perfect,” he pants out, daring to press his hips evern closer even though he’s already buried to the hilt inside of you. “And she’s mine, you’re mine.”

His lips find yours again as you whine, moaning into his mouth as he continues to roll his hips into you, filling you tenderly with his devotion.

“Oh—ah—”

“Stay with me, baby.” His thumb grazes the apple of your cheeks as your eyes start to flutter close in the same fashion that your cunt starts to quiver around him. “Need to see that pretty face when you come, please.”

Even with the pleasure threatening to drown you, Higuruma is the lifevest that always keeps you bobbing on the surface. “That’s it,” he says. “Good girl, you’re so close.” He pushes in slowly, feeling his own cock throbbing, imminent release on the horizon. “Fuck.” His hips draw back and roll forward languidly, the sounds of your collective pants and your cunt squelching roaring in his ears.

“Hi—Hiromi—I—”

“Let me have it.” He rocks into you a final time, a rough thrust that makes your eyes widen, the barest color of your eyes visible around your pupils as you come around him. The far off twinkling stars in your vision are no match for Higuruma’s face that you stay focused on through your orgasm. He stays buried inside you, grunting as your cunt continues to spasm around him. “Did so good for me baby, fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answer back breathless, willing your shaky legs to stay wrapped around him. “Wanna feel you too,” you mewl.

“Yeah,” he whispers, speeding up his motions, fucking you into an overstimulated state. “Gonna give you all of me, just—fuck.”

His lips crash against yours as he fills you with the torrents of his passion, a stream of white that coats the lining of your walls. His cock twitches as he empties into you, swallowing your moans with his mouth as his pelvis melds with yours.

Once your lips part his body stays on top of yours like a weighted blanket, providing you with all of the security and comfort that you could possibly need.

“Hiromi,” you say softly, face flushed, post orgasmic bliss glazing your eyes over. “I need to finish dinner.”

“We can order out,” he answers, burying his face into your neck. Even as his cum starts to leak out, making both of your skin sticky, he keeps his cock lodged in your softness. “Just need to stay with her a little longer.”

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rosesloveletters · 5 months

Text

all is fair in love.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 10,261

Warnings: sexual content / smut.

Summary: The holidays are Wonka's busiest season and his work keeps him away from reader much more than either of them would like. After hours, the two spend a passionate night together as they both make the necessary arrangements to be attentive to each other's needs and empathetic of the complexity of maintaining a healthy romantic relationship that neither reader nor Wonka are accustomed to.

Author's Note: my smut fics are always between 6-10k haha so enjoy. I edited this the best I could, but for some reason I kept switching between first person and second person pov for reader (I don't know why since I always write in second person pov.) I think I fixed most of it, so if there's any parts I missed, I'm sorry. Also, I'd like to mention that Christmas isn't inherently important to the events in this story. It is used as an element only to convey why Wonka is so busy during this time of year, because most people like to buy chocolate and candy as gifts. I know Gene was Jewish, even though I believe he said he wasn't exactly religious. I have no intention of trying to be offensive/belittle/make light of anyone's religion or beliefs and I apologize if it comes across that way because it is without a doubt not my intention.

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

You’ve always believed that if you truly love someone, then you keep it a secret.

You would let that feeling freeze me down to the core – to love the way a person is meant to, but it is that same love that, inevitably and irrevocably, suffocates.

You cannot satisfy that craving the same way one might satisfy a sweet tooth. Once given a taste, it seeps down into your skin, infecting both body and mind, pierces the heart and tears it wide open.

The thundering beat inside your chest cannot be silenced. The fingertips of fate trace the spider-like, lightning-strike veins that split your heart right down the middle.

A broken heart takes love like a beating.

It all comes boiling to the surface, bubbling up and out in the breath of a second.

The truth always comes out, one way or another.

Because if you don’t let the heart have its’ way, then it will tear itself right out of your chest.

***

The days were short, but the hours were long.

You spent much of your time by yourself, as this season kept Willy preoccupied. Time marched onward and the weeks themselves seemed to drag; it was nearing Christmastime and that meant very little to you in the grand scheme of things, except that you’d be seeing less and less of your lover.

Traditionally, the holidays were a time of celebration and joy, gifts and laughter shared between friends and families alike.

However, you lived a nontraditional life now, and Willy had unwittingly shown you that the life of a chocolatier was a solitary one. You knew that the busy holiday season was what pulled him away, but his lack of attentiveness made you wonder…

The only thing that kept these thoughts at bay was the way in which he looked at you when he was around.

Willy was a difficult man to read. Whether that was intentional or not, were you still trying to determine. The only dead giveaway were his eyes – startlingly intense and piercingly blue – that bore no resemblance to subtlety.

The vastness of the heavens, it seemed, were contained within those swirling galaxies. On dark nights when the cloud cover was too thick, you traced the constellations in his eyes to guide you into his morning light.

You could see yourself peeling back the layers of his heart to get to the source of how he truly felt.

Deflect from it all he might – “I’m a trifle deaf in this ear. Speak a little louder next time–” you saw right through him and sometimes that only made him steer clear of you for longer.

It wasn’t that he did not care for you; it was quite the opposite. Perhaps the extent to which he cared was a bit overwhelming for him at times. He immersed himself in his work during these times, else his mind inevitably carried him to places he would rather not visit.

Willy Wonka’s mind was not a place any person, sometimes even himself, should ever go without a guide or a distinct way back.

Though anyone with half a brain could tell that the amazing chocolatier was a troubled man on occasion, his true nature shone through in his creations. Something about this season’s batch of chocolate was a touch sweeter than ones previous. It would go undetected by those who did not have a refined palate, but like the saying goes, a true artist would put their blood, sweat and tears into their work and Willy Wonka was a mastermind.

He knew exactly what he was doing and what he meant to convey, if only between himself and one other: the world’s most famous chocolatier was in love.

***

You sat on the plush sofa in the personal wing of the factory, a book in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. You were nestled beneath a thick-knit, purple blanket as you read and waited on Willy to return to your den for the night.

You saw less and less of him the closer it got to the holidays, but such was the nature of his business. Christmastime was one of the busiest seasons and the one in which he made most of his money (the second being Valentine’s Day.) People bought exorbitant amounts of candies and chocolate during the holidays and so Willy was forced to expedite production (though never sacrificing quality) and work long, difficult hours preparing new and exciting treats for the public. In fact, it was no well-kept secret that Willy Wonka unveiled his newest creations around this time of year and that very news was plastered in every newspaper, magazine and bulletin across the world as people anticipated the exciting, brand-new sweets there would be to try.

You knew the excitement and rush of the season fed into Willy’s own excitement over his work. He was thrilled to be working on new ideas and expressing himself through his creativity and imagination. It meant the world to him and so you did your best to stay out of the way. You did not want to make the situation about you and, after all, he always made it up to you.

He was aware that his absence bothered you and he tried not to think about the fact that he may or may not be doing irreparable damage to your relationship.

Not every difficult time or situation was an attack against you. It wasn’t personal, nor was it anyone’s explicit fault. Willy had a factory to run, Oompa-Loompas to manage and ideas to manifest into reality. Sometimes, your relationship would take a backseat and if you were serious about being with him, then you would have to be alright with that and you were, although that did not mean that it didn’t hurt from time to time.

It would have been nice to relax and enjoy the season with your lover without his work getting in the way. You would have loved to curl up with him, sitting at opposite ends of the couch and enjoying lots of hot chocolate and hours of warm conversation. If you had your pick, you’d gladly have him here with you now, trading the book in your hands for his warm body, his fingers linked perfectly into the spaces between yours.

You reasoned that this was just how things would have to be for now. No sense in adding more pressure on him by complaining. He was aware of how you felt, but sadly there was nothing to be done about it. You never would have dreamed of asking him to pick between his work and you. That would not have been fair or right. You could handle this, for now, but deep down you missed him terribly.

Even if you chose to spend time with him inside the factory part of the building, he would be working the whole time. There simply was no time for much of anything else. He did like when you would drop by because you were his faithful little taste-tester. Better to try it out on you before selling it to the masses – that would seem cruel, knowing that his candies have had certain negative effects on people in the past, but rest assured, Willy had never given you anything that might harm you.

Any candy which made its way to you had been tested and re-tested to perfection before it ever passed between your lips.

He wanted feedback on his candy before it left the factory and you were more than happy to offer it to him, to which he was enthusiastically grateful. The only problem was, true to inventor fashion, he asked for feedback on everything. He wanted your opinion and was asking for it increasingly often these days. When you didn’t show up to the inventing room on certain days, he’d bring a whole box back to your shared living space and eagerly watch you with anticipation of your positive remarks as you were asked to try every piece.

He was always so grateful to you for that and, honestly, you didn’t mind. You liked candy and chocolate, so there was no reason you couldn’t afford him this act of kindness.

The only thing you really felt like you were missing was him and it plagued your mind most often while you were alone, which was of course very often. You kept yourself busy and occupied your thoughts with other things as much as you were able, but when you settled in for the night, your loneliness crept in and took up the space beside you that would have otherwise been occupied by your beloved chocolatier.

You didn’t mind your alone time, but too much of it was not ideal.

Too much of a good thing came with a price and now it seemed you were paying it with interest.

The sound of a door opening and shutting pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced down at your book to realize you’d just had it propped open against your knees this whole time and hadn’t read a bit. You marked your place and closed it with a huff, setting it down on the end table beside you, your mug of half-drank cocoa with it.

A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall – thank God he hadn’t cut that one in half – showed that it was ten minutes after midnight.

It did not come as a surprise that Willy was so late. It was only your wildest guess as to what he had been working on, but that point was moot. You did not really care what he was working on.

That thought seemed harsh and you frowned; no, you were adamantly against resenting him for his work. That path was one you would not let yourself go down, a trap of codependence, you told yourself, but why couldn’t he just be a little more present with you? Surely it wasn’t too much to ask.

Perhaps you would ask.

It would make the most sense to be upfront with him about how you were feeling and to be as direct as possible.

You did not move from the couch. You waited on Willy to come and find you, unlike the many days and nights when you might have greeted him at the door.

Several quiet moments passed between yourself and your thoughts before Willy entered the room. He had shed his purple coat at the door, as well as his hat and cane, “there you are, my dear,” his gentle tone made your stomach clench as warmth pooled in your abdomen. Even troubled with doubts, you were still delighted to see him.

You watched as he approached and dropped himself on the opposite end of the couch. He nudged your knee with his, silently asking for a bit more space which you politely gave, “I would have been back sooner, but I’ve been so busy, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, it is that time of year,” you replied coolly. You didn’t want to jump into the meat of the discussion too soon, otherwise he might take offense where there was none.

He seemed in a good enough mood that perhaps this would be the perfect time to strike.

“Yes, my dear, it’s the holiday season which does wonders for my business and I couldn’t be happier.”

His pride in the work he was doing warmed your heart. You listened to him for a while as he recounted what he had been working on that day.

He cared so much and spoke so passionately, yet your mind began to wander.

“Is everything alright, my dear?”

His tender voice captured your attention and you blinked slowly, “yes, I’m fine. But, there is something I would like to talk to you about.”

His lips hitched into a faint smile, then flattened into a serious line. It bothered you, not being able to read his face.

“There is? Well, you know that you can always talk to me about anything on your mind.”

You didn’t want to overwhelm him, not when he was already so fully immersed within his work. He needed time and space to focus. He did not need you hindering his creative flow by hanging all over him and demanding more attention. He already gave so much; how could you even dare to think that he owed you more?

“I know you’re busy this time of year, but do you think it would be possible for us to spend a little more time together?” My voice cracked as I added, “I…really miss you, Willy.”

You hadn’t meant to speak with words that were laced with such pain, but in fairness you did miss him terribly. By the time he made his way to you most nights, you were already in bed or heading there and in the mornings before you’d woken up, he would be gone. It bothered you to not see him and you wanted him to hear it. He needed to know the truth if you meant to be honest with him, you only hoped he’d be able to understand that you didn’t blame him.

Conversations like this always made you second guess yourself.

By this point, you realized that he had not responded. He was probably just thinking about what he would say, but usually it didn’t take him this long to reply.

“Willy?” you gently urged him, reaching out to place your hand on his arm.

Whenever he felt the gentle graze of your fingertips against the fabric of his shirt, he glanced down, admiring the tender touch with a wistful smile on his face before he looked up at you and the emotion held inside of those ice-blue eyes was almost enough to send you over the edge and into uncontrollable sobs of relief.

You felt the tension in your shoulders beginning to dissipate. Good, he felt the same way.

He was still staring at you like there was something more on his mind. That was the way things were with Wonka and you’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought on more than one occasion that it’s a good thing you weren’t a mind reader because there were things that went on inside his head that should stay there. It was better that you didn’t try to trace his Machiavellian ways or make sense of the enigmatic man who so frequently surprised you with small glimpses into how he really thought and viewed the world. It was fun getting to know who he was, but the true wonderment was in not knowing him at all.

He tested your mind and all your senses, but never pushed your boundaries. He could knock you off your stride in seconds, then act as if nothing had happened. You were playing his little chess game and he was already three or more moves ahead. It had only been a matter of time before you had fallen into his hands like this.

Things were as they were because Wonka wanted them to be. His quips and wisecracks often went over people’s heads, especially because of how well-versed he was in literature and culture. He could make the whole world fall in love with him at once, then forget him as soon as they were no longer in his presence, but you believed the world adored him much more than he liked to think it did.

“I didn’t say anything sooner because I didn’t want it to seem like I was being insensitive, since I know you’re not intentionally ignoring me.”

This statement made him smile for some reason, “where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; where little fears grow great, great love grows there.” (William Shakespeare, Hamlet.)

At first, you didn’t know what to say. You had a bit of trouble discerning what he meant sometimes, missing the larger picture for deciding why he chose a specific quote at a specific time.

Seeming to read your thoughts, he let out a polite chuckle, “This is to say, even in love do the smallest doubts scare you, but when you are afraid of such little things, you are still in love, too.”

His explanation seemed to help, if only for a second.

It was true that you had your doubts, but those doubts only stemmed from love. That fear which grew inside of you had taken root, but when enough time had passed, it was the love which had bloomed from it.

Both the fear and love would come with a connection as strong as this one.

In the beginning, Willy had never dreamed of having a romantic partner. His solitary lifestyle simply lacked the means necessary to cultivate a long-term relationship. He had never desired romance or human connection of any kind. He had his factory and the Oompa-Loompas to look after; he was stretched thin as it was.

It was with sickening rapture that he sought the reason for why his heart seemed so content within your hands. He had to know the true meaning behind what he felt, even if he had to wade out in to the wild, dark depths up to his neck. He was barely treading water, sinking still, feet kicking desperately and hands reaching, clawing for purchase but there was nothing for him to grab onto. No way to steady himself as his soul careened toward what he had been running from for so long, a runaway train on the track towards trust and away from self-preservation.

At first, you wanted to be the one in control. You had your fair share of demons and setting the pace for the relationship yourself was very important to you, but neither of you wanted to go too far too fast.

You became acclimated to his world quite quickly.

You just seemed to fit right in and, with time, Wonka found himself closer to you than he had ever been with another person.

The two of you had been together for quite some time now and the red string of fate binding your hearts together was pulled taut.

It seemed that you both knew you were in the right hands and the love that grew here was stronger than any fears or doubts which gripped you.

“What scares me the most is that you’re pulling away from me,” you confessed to him, and that revelation made his eyes widen perceptibly, “sometimes I think you don’t even realize that you’re doing it.”

The conversation had shifted and Wonka realized that you were no longer just discussing his absence in light of the holidays. There was deeper emotion and meaning laced within what you were saying to him now.

He was used to being alone, as were you. The only difference was that while you had never lost hope that the right person might come along, he had done everything he could to close himself off. His heart was a precious thing and that was what the world had been after. Yes, he had closed his factory because of theft, but he put his whole heart into his work and, if anyone were to steal his heart, then there would be nothing left for the one whom it belonged to.

He made sure he guarded his heart all these years, even if he didn’t know the reason for it. It was easier to deny the very fact that love was something every person desires, even ones who have become so layered and complex that it would be difficult to imagine what a true love might look like for them.

Wonka was not afraid of anything.

However, if one thing made him apprehensive it was the idea of anyone finding him out.

Not that there was any chance of that; no one was able to think quite like him. But if anyone came close, that meant he’d cling to them forever, holding on for dear love.

His gaze shifted down to your hands that were folded in your lap and reached for one. Long, delicate fingers gently wrapping around your right hand as he brought it to his mouth.

A kiss for each finger, you counted, one two three four five…

Then, his lips made contact with your inner wrist. The sudden and unexpected brush of lips against your sensitive skin made your breath hitch.

“I promise to be more attentive,” he whispered on your skin, his hot breath tickling the inner area of your wrist, “the only one pulling me anywhere is you and I am only moving forward.”

“You’ve got to go forwards to go back.”

He had believed that, in more ways than just one, in relation to his factory and to people, but there was no going back now. Even if that were an opinion, he wouldn’t have wanted to.

Within half a second, he dropped your hand and tilted his head, leaned in close and pressed his warm lips to yours in the most sensual, tender kiss your lips had ever known.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like butterfly wings beating against your ribcage, desperate to free itself and get to his. Your soul sought the kind of connection that your mouths were getting and jealousy was an understatement.

If this was his way of making it up to you, then let it be known that you wanted nothing else for Christmas this year than a clear mind and the taste of your lover left over on your cupid’s bow.

It was all electric, body and soul alight, glistening brighter than fairy lights strung up for the season.

He tasted sweeter than his own candy and you smiled into the kiss at the very thought. He ate a lot of his own sweets, if only to test the taste, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sugared kisses, your sweet tooth craving satisfied only by his honeyed lips.

Somewhere in the haze you found the opportunity to grip handfuls of his tawny tresses, fingers digging into the soft curls that drove your heart mad with desire. You loved his hair and so infrequently did he let you touch or comb it. It was about as unruly as he was, wild, untamed and free, just like the man it belonged to.

Your gentle tugging on his hair elicited a soft grunt from him and his lips attacked yours more feverishly, taking on a more aggressive quality now that you had accepted and encouraged him.

There was no rhyme or reason for anything that occurred while you were with him, except what was happening now.

Wonka did everything on a whim. Sleeping, eating, working…no schedule, no routine, no nonsense.

“A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”

Perhaps the most nonsensical thing that had ever happened in Wonka’s factory was your fear that he might leave you.

Strike that. Don’t reverse it.

You didn’t want anything to change. There were more twists and turns in this man’s head than there were in his factory and you had lost yourself trying to find your way out. You never left his mind, not once. Even while he worked or spent time alone, you were in his thoughts, whether it was subconscious or not.

Your own mind didn’t register your movement as you crawled closer and sought out more of his sugary sweetness which was more potent than any nectar of the gods. Your lips devoured his, tasting every inch of the same mouth that poured prose and poetry into your ear each night that you laid with him.

He hummed pleasantly against your lips. His gentle sounds teased you; so rare was it that he ever made a sound during these moments of intimacy. Oh, how you tried, and your futile attempts filled him with great satisfaction. He had more discipline than you ever imagined; living alone for so many years without the warmth of another had taught him to go without, but desperation clung to his bones and manifested through each fervent, heated kiss.

Willy wouldn’t have described himself as needy, but he appreciated physical intimacy when it occurred and sometimes it was as necessary as any other proper communication. He wanted more than a quick romp; he craved human connection. It was completely unfounded for someone like him to want to share a connection with anyone, but here he was asking for it with his mouth on yours and your reciprocation of that same need meant everything to him.

You tested the waters, grazing your teeth along his bottom lip to determine how far he might be willing to go. He didn’t stop you. His lips simply parted, allowing entry of your tongue.

The only sound he made was a little gasp, which you swallowed as your tongue delved in to taste the inside of his mouth. Your hands were still holding the sides of his head, fingers buried deep within his unruly curls.

He helped maneuver your body closer to his, unabashedly bringing you to sit on his lap. As you settled on top of him, one of his large hands moved down to the small of your back and held you firmly in place.

You could feel the heat of his hand through your shirt. You had no grasp of how long the two of you continued to kiss like that. The passage of time, though a precious thing, was unimportant in the current moment. The only thing you demanded more of was him and you would greedily take all that he had to offer you.

You were enchanted by him. He surprised you at every turn and, if it had been anyone else, you’d have questioned where you stood with them, but wasn’t that the point? The less anyone knew about Willy Wonka, the more exciting it felt to be in his presence.

It was impossible to know whether the things he revealed about himself were true or not and there was beauty in that alone. If beauty was in the eye of the beholder, then he had the upper hand here.

You did not stop to see why his hand had suddenly been removed from your back, but any questions you might’ve wished to voice were answered when you noticed him reaching for one of the top buttons on his vest.

The steady progression of events had led you here and you were too immersed within the moment to stop him, but you wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. You were entranced, enthralled, enraptured by the whole of him and his heart belonged to yours.

The wet graze of your tongue against his cupid’s bow spurred him further, lips tangled tantalizingly with yours as his fingers worked open the buttons on his vest.

The threshold had been breached.

The moment was yours for the taking, if you wanted it and you knew that you did.

Lost somewhere between drunk on lust and in love, you began to help him unbutton, starting at the bottom of his vest and continuing until your hands met in the middle of his chest. You followed this same pattern for both rows of buttons.

Coincidentally, this journey ended right above his heart, but another one was merely beginning.

Your hands were shaking with anticipation as you looked up to notice him already gazing at you lovingly. A tender smile curved his lips like a crescent moon and the sunlight bleeding out through the cracks in your soul made the stars in his eyes sparkle.

You cupped his cheek and pressed a gentle kiss onto the bridge of his nose. His arms encircled you, holding you flush against him and his shirtsleeves rode up on his forearms, exposing just a fraction of skin with a fine dusting of sand-colored hair.

You let him hold you to him as his lips attached to your neck. You imagined when he pulled back that there would be an imprint of lips, a tattoo of his love painted across your collarbone, signifying that you belonged to him alone.

You tilted your head to give him better access and he thanked you by delivering a loving nip to the column of your neck.

You hadn’t forgotten your intention.

With hands still shaking, you reached for his vest and pulled it open. His lips detached from your neck in an instant and long, elegant fingers wrapped around your wrist, effectively stopping you from undressing him.

His eyes were crystalline pools of skylight, airy and substantially quantified by the depths within them. They had a mirror-like quality and you could see yourself reflected in them as you held his gaze for a heartbeat too long.

“Only if…this is something that we both want…”

Willy’s words of brevity filled you with wonder.

“If I’m being honest with you, Willy…I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more than I want you now.”

That single sentence melded with and fused into his soul. In a breath-to-breath admission of consent, your words had tied his tongue with cursive letters.

He breathed a sigh of relief and held within that exhale was his own consent. You had granted him permission, assuring him that you were not offering yourself out of obligation or for complacency’s sake and that thrilled him perhaps as much as the act itself would. He felt the blood rush to his groin and he moved beneath you, shifting your body weight more onto his thigh.

Willy nuzzled your cheek, dragging his nose along your soft skin. His arms had yet to unravel themselves from around you; he wanted to take his time. However, he was increasingly aware of his own sense of desperation. It had been some time since he had last gotten into bed with a lover.

Actually, the last time he had gotten into bed with anyone was with you.

Willy had a low sex drive, but on occasion it would crop up and remind him that he was, in fact, human and had needs, whether it was simple biology or heightened by the desire to connect with the one he loved.

Whenever he thought of a lover and what had previously been just some nameless face at the forefront of his mind, that vision was now you. Yours was the love he sought; your hands were the ones meant to hold his heart.

He let go of you and shrugged off his vest.

Your lips captured his once again and he imagined this was what dreams tasted like.

He went to stand up and you quickly took the hint and moved off his lap. He got up and began unbuttoning his white undershirt while you watched. He could see the fire burning in your irises, your pupils dilated with desire as you watched his delicate fingers pop open each button.

You knew better than to rush him; a treat as sweet as him was meant to be savored.

You took this opportunity to slip your own shirt off your body. With your skin exposed, his eyes traveled across your midsection and his fingers hesitated, fumbling the button he was on. His breath hitched and you swore you heard him whisper the word “beautiful” as he gazed upon you.

Once he had recovered, the swiftness with which he finished removing his undershirt made your head spin. In his haste, he had forgotten to remove his bow tie and unbutton his sleeve cuffs, which made you giggle. He seemed flustered, his cheeks reddening once he realized, and perhaps this was the first time you had ever witnessed him with a blush on his cheeks.

You reached out to help him and a soft chuckle dripped from his lips like maple syrup, “It would appear I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself, my dear.”

You chuckled as well as his bow tie and undershirt were removed, “well, I’ll take it as a compliment…that you seem so eager to have me.”

Your words were spoken as if in jest, but his response was anything but.

“Doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt that I love,” he quoted, his smooth baritone steeping you in the tea of his desire. (William Shakespeare, Hamlet.)

It was enough to quiet your mind and when he said it, you felt your entire world get a little smaller. Your heightened senses had inflated your soul and carried you to the clouds. You were a runaway balloon stuck in a tree and his words were the hand that enclosed around your string. You had seen vast lands and known love in its many forms, but never until this moment had you felt so much in the presence of one.

His heart knew yours better than it knew itself and the cracks left by heartbreak were filled in by your endless love for each other.

You moved in to kiss him again and his hands cupped your warm cheeks. His breath tasted as sweet as the chocolate he made, which only made sense because of how often you saw him sampling it. He kept a bit in his coat that he’d pull out and nibble upon and often would you go sifting through his pockets for little treasures and treats that he had left over. Sometimes you found such delights that it had to have been no accident that they had been left behind. No, he knew your guilty pleasure was his chocolate and he made sure to satisfy your cravings, both for chocolate and for him, as often as possible.

Your tongue slipped inside his mouth and he finally graced your ears with a very delicate moan.

His hands moved down the length of your arms to finally grab your hips. He pulled you in, your pelvis against his, and you could feel the hard press of his bulge against your thigh.

While you kissed, he began to walk you backwards toward your shared bedroom.

You could not have torn your lips apart to look where you were going even if you wanted to.

You trusted him to get you there safely, perhaps more than you had ever trusted another person or at least you hadn’t trusted anyone this deeply in a very long time. Too many others had taken a hammer to your jawbreaker heart and smashed it to more manageably sized pieces, but once broken, it could never be put back together without its’ once-pristine surface now marred with jagged cracks.

At least the breakage let the light of your soul pour out into his hands…

Willy was stained by your brokenness, his heart bruised the color of your trauma.

He had been burned before, broken in a very real way, and therefore it was never a question of if you would trust him, but how much and when. He knew how long it could take a person to truly open up if they wanted to, but for you, he was willing to wait an eternity and then some.

Time stood still and Willy had the presence of mind to remember how it felt to cradle your body to his when the only things that cemented your souls was an equal share of trust and love for one another and the mutual decision to take just one more chance.

You sighed with relief when the backs of your knees connected with the mattress.

Willy didn’t push you or press for more. His lips left yours in favor of your neck and several chaste yet sweet kisses were left along your collar bone as if his lips were asking for permission without the accompaniment of words.

In between you, you reached for his belt.

He felt your fingers wrap around the waistband of his trousers and a gentle smirk crossed his features, “after something, are we?”

His coy response made the tips of your ears get hot and you huffed, “well, it isn’t my fault that I’ve gone and gotten all excited…”

“I hope you’re not implying that it’s mine,” he replied as his smirk widened.

“I wasn’t implying anything,” your time spent with him had sharpened your wit, “I’m saying it.”

His eyes shared in your mirth, twinkling with laughter at your response. He wrapped an arm around your lower back and pulled you in. With his cheek to yours, lips near your ear, he whispered, “shall we make use of your excitement, then, dear?”

You felt a shudder run down your spine as he spoke to you, the dulcet undertones of his honeyed voice pierced you like a knife through the delicate flesh of an orange. You wanted to sink your fingers into his heart and peel it apart to devour the pieces, sustaining yourself on his love.

You nodded and he deemed it appropriate to continue. He gently pushed your hands from his belt and took on the task himself. He pulled it from the loops and laid it on the chair nearest to him.

When he turned back to you, you were already removing your pants. He smiled to himself, stopping in his tracks to admire you as you undressed. He almost wanted to help you, but held himself back. Mutual trust came at a price and he would not want to overstep any unspoken boundaries. You had not explicitly told him not to help, but you hadn’t told him to do it either and so he decided it was best to let you indicate what you wanted from him and how comfortable you were with the situation.

Neither you nor he were particularly trusting individuals. Your experiences with people who took advantage of others made you wary and skeptical, through no fault of your own. Maturity and wisdom came with age and while you had both grown and learned, you had built walls around yourselves both figuratively and literally, in Wonka’s case, to guard your hearts and protect them.

Now, you were bearing your souls to each other.

It was an unlikely thing, but you were both ready. You had known Wonka for a long time now and you had no doubt that you and he were meant to be in each other’s lives. There was a reason that you were here. Even though you might have needed a bit of reassurance from time to time, it was never because you truly thought he might leave you. Giving word to that unreasonable fear set you free, because in your heart of hearts you realized that you were not afraid at all.

You were lonely.

You had forced it down for years, but acknowledging it now was cathartic, because never again would you find yourself isolated like you had so many years before.

Willy was no stranger to isolation either. Though he had reasons other than your own, he empathized.

It was difficult, at times, for the two of you to find a rhythm. Both of you had been alone for so long that it took time to become acclimated to sharing your lives with each other, but in this moment you both knew that there was no person you would each rather share a life with than each other.

Willy was never at risk of pulling away. He was simply learning how to love you.

As soon as you pushed off your pants and stepped out of them, he was kissing you again. In a flourish of limbs and bare skin, you fell backwards onto the mattress with him. His hot lips descended over yours as his fingers linked into the spaces between your own. In all ways except for one, your two bodies were unified and, if either of you could help it, that would soon be remedied.

The mattress dipped and shifted beneath your shared weight as Willy crawled on top of you. You held his hands for as long as you were capable of doing before you needed to feel him more solidly at your fingertips. You dropped his hand, grabbed his shoulder and dug in your nails to hear him hiss into your ear and nip at your neck.

He couldn’t even finish undressing because you demanded every ounce of his attention.

Your spirits were engaged in this battle of carnality and you had consumed him, corrupted his mind and possessed him body and soul, but all’s fair in love and war, both of which you had waged fervently on his senses.

At risk of ruining the moment, he pulled away and got up to finish removing his trousers. Your chest heaved as you took a moment to catch your breath, propping yourself up on one arm.

“And here I thought…we were just getting to the good part,” I quipped. A teasing smile bloomed on my face as he turned to look down at me.

“And I thought you liked my kisses,” He replied without missing a beat.

His lopsided grin made you giggle, but the sound of his zipper being pulled down tore your attention away from the witty banter. The fire of fierce need had begun to burn bright inside your belly once again after being extinguished to mere embers only seconds ago.

You watched him kick off his trousers and make no move to pick them up.

He moved back down onto the bed and leaned into you. You met him halfway and pecked a chaste kiss onto his lips. Your bodies fit together like two immaculately chiseled sculptures whose delicate features appeared to be made of something much softer than stone.

You knew what he wanted from you now and you felt goosebumps rising on your flesh as you anticipated his caress.

He cupped your head, holding you to him as he lowered you back against the pillows. He liked to take charge of this part himself and you let him, despite the anxiety you felt at relinquishing control over yourself. You didn’t like feeling out of control, especially of your body and Willy knew this. He tried his best to make you feel comfortable and safe, never moving forward without verbal consent.

“Shall I touch you, dear?”

You reflected on his question before you nodded, swallowing thickly before you could make a sound, “yes.”

You knew that he would check in with you frequently to make certain you still wished to continue.

With your consent, his fingertips grazed the length of your arms. His warm touch sent pleasant shivers through you and you fought the urge to arch into him. He had a way of making you feel everything he wanted you to feel with just one touch. It was like magic, the control he had over your body and sometimes you wondered if his creative abilities branched into other realms as well.

His hands slid down your sides, massaging your warm skin and admiring your supple curves, the angles and indentations of your hips. Before he traveled lower, Willy wanted to devote some appreciation to the rest of your body first. His hands moved to your back, working underneath you to swiftly unclip your bra. He had a way of doing things so fast that you barely had time to register what he was doing before it was done. Perhaps it didn’t seem possible, but impossibility did not exist where Willy Wonka came from; if there was a way to do the impossible, he had already figured it out and told no one.

With your unclasped bra no longer pulled taut, he delicately pushed the straps off your shoulders and plucked the hindersome piece of fabric away from your chest. It dropped unceremoniously to the floor and his blue eyes glittered with mischief when he looked upon your exposed breasts.

You wanted to cover them, but he held your arms at your sides. True to the creative genius he was, he had to admire beauty where and when he saw it and you were a masterpiece. His tight smile had relaxed as he gazed down at you beneath him and he practically cooed with appreciation for your form.

“You’re very beautiful,” he whispered heatedly, like it was almost difficult for him to get the words out. He was overwhelmed with all his attention focused on the body before him.

You wanted to thank him for the compliment, but all that came out was a soft squeak.

He chuckled at your little sound and bent his head. He placed a firm kiss on your left breast and you sighed in pleasure at the gentle touch of his plush lips on your pillowy skin. His lips traced the curves of your breasts before encircling one of your nipples, suckling lightly as if it were a piece of candy.

You mewled and arched into his mouth, desiring more from him and as quickly as possible, but Willy liked to take his time with you. He never left you unsatisfied, but you could expect nothing to be fast paced.

His fingers wrapped around your hips to hold you in place as he moved to your other breast and did the same thing. His hot tongue teased your candy pieces to hardness and he hummed his appreciation, sending waves of pleasure down to your core.

You squirmed in his grasp and whimpered pathetically, “please, Willy,” you begged him, “I want you now.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have me, dear,” he reassured you, his thumbs rubbing placatingly against your hips, “when I’m ready for you to.”

His teasing remark made you huff in irritation until his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your cotton panties and paused you in your tracks.

You whined as his fingers barely breached the fabric barrier before he removed them. His hands moved to your inner thighs and spread your legs apart for him to nestle in between them.

All you could do was watch as he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to your navel, just below your belly button. His kisses traveled lower and lower down your pelvis to your pubic bone and finally to your core. You writhed in pleasure when his mouth found its way to where you wanted it, but your panties were still in the way and you groaned with frustration.

Heat emanated from your core due to your arousal and the crotch of your panties were damp with your wetness.

Your head dropped back against the pillow as he used the tip of his nose to brush lightly against your clit through your panties.

You were so pliant to his will and responsive to his touch that he almost felt powerful. If it had been anyone other than him, he would have, but all he felt in this moment was an overwhelming feeling of love. The fact that he could give you a comfortable experience of vulnerability and pleasure perhaps did enflame his ego a bit, but he loved you even more for it. To see you enjoying yourself because of him was almost too much for him to handle and he could feel his cock swell to attention.

He placed a couple of open-mouthed kisses to the crotch of your panties before he dragged them down your legs. He would have liked to tease you more, but he was already beginning to lose patience and he didn’t want to rush through too quickly.

With your panties removed, he could admire your glistening folds and the sweet juices that had dribbled out of you. His mouth watered as he delved in for a taste, his tongue tentatively flickering against your opening.

You let out a cry and bucked your hips, desperate for him to fill you. You needed friction and fullness to achieve release and Willy knew you couldn’t get either of those things without his compliance. He smirked at that and lowered his head between your thighs.

Your hot core pulsed as more of your honey leaked onto his tongue. He moaned in satisfaction, savoring the taste of your sweetness and the delicious sounds you were making for him. He had never tasted anything this sweet except for his chocolate and if he could have only one of those two things right now he would have picked you without a second thought.

It was almost too much for him to pull his mouth away, but he knew that he must if he were to indulge in the ultimate act of pleasure with you. You both wanted that more than you wanted air to breathe. A greater craving than candy, your existing love and soul connection a stronger aphrodisiac than chocolate.

With a final flick of his tongue against your clit, he dragged his mouth off you. You whimpered at the loss, but in the back of your lust-flavored cotton candy mind you knew that your shared night of pleasure was just beginning.

He got off the bed again and opened the nightstand drawer. He withdrew a small tinfoil packet and a small clear bottle of lubricant.

You were still sprawled out on the mattress, your hair a halo around your head. The darkened room made it difficult to see what he was doing, but your eyes had adjusted enough for you to see movement.

You felt eyes on you and before you glanced up from the object he was holding, his voice broke the silence, “are you comfortable continuing?”

Driven by lust and lover’s greed, you nodded your consent. Willy did not respond at first, waiting on your actual acknowledgement and proper agreement. Your voice was shaky as you replied to him, but you knew what you wanted and were certain in your response, “yes. I want this. I want you, Willy.”

The sincerity in your voice convinced him and he tore open the condom wrapper.

Excitement thrilled you and coursed through your veins, carried into your heart by blood. Your body was singing with sensation as you wanted nothing more than his solid body atop you, his hard length buried in your tight heat.

You watched him with barely-concealed enthusiasm – well, perhaps the only concealment was from the darkness in the bedroom – as he took off his underwear and rolled the condom on. He then squirted a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and coated his cock.

You could hear him jerking himself off and the obscenely slick sounds from the generous amount of lube. He had yet to give himself any physical stimulation up until this point and you were eager to repay the favor.

In the dark, your reached for him and he came to you, ready to meld together and fill you full of himself.

He positioned himself on top and guided your legs around his hips. He propped himself up with one forearm flat against the mattress so that he wouldn’t rest his entire body weight on you and the other guided his condom-covered tip to your entrance.

He gave your forehead a tender kiss as he pressed in. Your lips parted at your sharp intake of breath and your muscles tightened and seized around him. Willy kissed your face, calming you and keeping you still and relaxed until he bottomed out.

He nuzzled against your cheek and moved his free arm behind you to cradle your head.

You tilted your head back and captured his lips. The two of you kissed lazily for several moments as your bodies adjusted to one another. Your walls twitched around his cock, sending jolts of electricity down to his toes, into the pit of his stomach and behind his eyes. Everything felt fuzzy and seemed out of focus except for you.

The one thing that was clear to him was his love for you and the appreciation he had for you being a part of his life. If he could not trust a single soul with his legacy, he knew that he could trust you with himself and that was more than enough.

For once, nothing made you question Willy Wonka; his intentions were clear.

Your fears were just that: fear. It was irrational and based on nothing of consequence. However, the very fact that you were afraid let you and he both know how much you cared.

You would never take Willy, and he would never take you, for granted.

He would reassure you that though he was not used to sharing his world with another, that you were his world now and you would share in every aspect with him and reap the rewards of a unique and whimsical life with perhaps the greatest chocolatier who ever lived.

Take out all the fantasy and spectacle and you were left with only love and imagination.

All these people thought the most fantastical thing about Willy Wonka were his creations, but what took your breath away, and had since the beginning, was the man behind those creations.

You had fallen in love with him as much as you had with his brain and his intellect, his body, his soul. You wanted to dip your fingers into him like if he were made of melted chocolate. You would lick the essence of his existence off your fingertips to taste his candy-coated soul and sugared thoughts. There were not many candies or chocolates of the Wonka brand that you hadn’t tried, but none were sweeter than the man himself.

If he existed only in your mind, then your mind was alive with the thought of him.

All too soon, your thoughts abandoned you as you felt him begin to move.

He slowly pulled out, angled his hips and pushed back in.

The sudden movement jarred your body and you clung to him tighter.

As he began to set a pace, you rolled your hips down onto him each time that he pushed in. This seemed to please him, witnessing you thrusting with him, your bodies moving in unison toward a shared release and reciprocation of pleasure.

He grunted softly in your ear with the effort of thrusting into you. His soft curls tickled your cheek and you bit back a giggle. A particularly rough thrust ripped the sound from your throat and you laughed aloud.

His brows furrowed in amusement at your laughter, but he grinned with you nonetheless.

His thrusts became harsher, deepening as you adjusted and conformed to the rhythm and pace he set that was creating a delicious friction between your legs. You moaned shamelessly into his ear and he thrusted harder, encouraged by the sinful sounds you were making.

Willy kissed you, his lips feverishly moved against yours as he held you in his embrace and your skin blazed with red hot fervor. A thin sheen of sweat clung to your bodies and you could feel the heat rolled off him in waves. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but it didn’t bother you as you kissed him harder, demanding more intensity out of your shared intimacy. Your core pulsed, muscles gripping and clenching tightly around his cock.

Your moans began to take on a higher pitch the closer you got to your release. Willy could tell that you were close now and he was eager to send you over the edge. Sex was, at least for him, about mutual enjoyment and gratification, not domination, exploitation or manipulation. It was about individuals who loved each other enough to put aside their individuality and become one, just for a moment of bliss.

His forehead pressed against yours as he thrusted into you harder than before, his pace becoming erratic the closer he came to his own release.

As he panted, you felt his breath fan across your face and he smelled of chocolate.

You balanced on the edge of oblivion as your feverish coupling would soon send you into orgasm.

After a few more hard thrusts, Willy slipped a hand between your legs and gently rubbed your clit. Your release seized you, your body shaking violently with hurricane force winds of equal parts pleasure and zest. It was as if the air had been knocked out of you and you were falling down into his waiting arms. Ecstasy radiated from your core, carried in waves throughout your body.

You were alone with your pleasure, waiting on your lover to join you in the afterglow.

You cried out his name as he thrusted into you through your orgasm. He lasted several moments after you came before he released, filling the condom with several hot bursts of his seed.

He had just enough strength left in his body to pull out and collapse beside you. His harsh panting soon turned to gentle sighs as his heartrate decreased and his body cooled. His strawberry blonde curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat and were sticking out at wild angles except for the top which was always a bit flattened from the way he wore his hat.

You reached out and petted his frizzy hair, your fingers delicately massaging his scalp. He let out a quiet little moan and you smiled at him.

With a deep inhale, he sat up and peeled the sticky condom off his softening prick. He tied it up and tossed it in the wastebin, then snatched his underwear off the ground. He picked yours up as well and handed them to you for you to slip on.

You got off the bed and put your panties back on, then crossed the room to the bathroom. A few moments later, when you returned after you had cleaned yourself up, you found him lying in bed waiting for you.

He smiled at you as you approached and extended an arm out to let you curl into his side as you got back on the bed with him. He already had a blanket laid out to pull across your nude bodies so that you could cuddle in modesty and without getting a chill.

He looked down to watch you settle in and you met his gaze for a moment, appreciating his features. His gorgeous blue eyes were like pools of galaxy speckled with stars. His aquiline nose, which most people thought was too big for his face, looked proportionate in your opinion and beautiful just the same. He had the softest features of any man you had ever seen, slightly chubby cheeks, a round face and curved jawline. He was exquisite in every sense of the word and just looking at him made you fall more deeply in love.

As attractive as he was to you, his personality spoke to yours in a language only the two of you spoke fluently.

His appreciation for literature and culture was unique and inspiring and, because it tied in with your own, you learned a lot from each other. His quick wit and casual snide remarks that often passed over other people’s heads made you laugh as though you were enjoying your own little joke with each other.

During your private appreciation for this man, you concluded that you had no reason to ever think he might be pulling away from you.

In surreal Willy Wonka fashion, he seemed to read your thoughts as he finally spoke, “I’d like to see you in the Inventing Room with me tomorrow. I want you to be as involved with the holiday busy season as I am.”

He addressed your insecurities by offering a solution to the problem and your heart felt a bit lighter. He wanted you to be involved in his work so that you didn’t feel so isolated or lonely. He had promised to be more attentive and he intended to do just that, but you could offer him aid and visit him while he worked. True love was buoyed by compromise; you’d see to it that you did your part to keep your relationship strong.

“Forgive me for not being as attentive as I should be,” he continued, “I’ve been so busy, not to excuse myself.”

“I understand,” you replied.

He seemed surprised for a moment, as if he half-expected you to still be upset, “and it isn’t entirely your fault. I should come around more if I’m missing you. We’ll find a solution. We have time.” Willy put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close so he could kiss your head, “time is a precious thing, my dear. Never waste it.”

Between his words, you heard what he was not saying.

And while he had a point, what you did have was now.

You could agree just to exist for a moment, sharing in the silence of the universe and listening to nothing but your dreams and the sounds of your hearts.

You would fall into each other the same way that you fell in love: accidentally and achingly slow.

One day you would both look up and see how far you had come, but for now, you still had a way to go.

You knew his heart belonged to yours and that was enough to keep trying. Once the busy season calmed down and you had more time to focus on the two of you, you would ease into it like lovers were meant to, but right now you had an obligation to yourselves not to let the fear of failure drive you apart.

It might seem fatalistic to ruin a relationship before it had run its course, but you’d seen it happen and the last thing you wanted was for that to be yours.

You knew deep down that it wouldn’t happen.

Your love was as strong as your imaginations were wild and no mind would ever dare dream the two of you apart.

#willy Wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #willy wonka 1971 #wilder!wonka #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka imagine #willy wonka and the chocolate factory imagine #gene wilder #biblio :: 📖

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hard-core-super-star · 1 month

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make every mistake [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you run into your ex at the vanity fair party, almost a full year after your breakup, and are forced to accept some hard truths.

warnings: technically none; bitter exes being bitter but also getting distracted; A LOT of references to cheating [very open to interpretation, though; more than one reference to JA; rubix please get over sunkissing challenge; did not proofread at all so it might not make the most sense at times; does this count as a ventfic?

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: i was supposed to be writing something else [what a surprise lmao] but...it's sunkissing's anniversary and unfortunately, that song still means a lot to me and i needed to be nostalgic for a second. plus, last year's vanity fair party is what inspired me to start writing fanfiction again so...consider this a very weird, bitter, and nostalgic first anniversary celebration. i hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your love, support, and patience this past year, i plan to continue writing for you guys for a LONG while <3 [and yes, this is sunkissing (sad girl edition)]

* * * * * * * Whoever coined the phrase,”wrong place, right time,” as a good thing seriously owes you some compensation. It implies that there could be something possibly good in the situation you’re in but what could be good about being stuck at the same party your ex is also at?

Of course, that person might get along with your friends who have been trying to convince you that this situation is a fantastic opportunity for you to show how happy you are. Something that would work if it were true.

But it’s not.

How could happiness be anywhere on your radar when every time you interact with someone, they’re quick to remind you your ex-girlfriend is currently parading around with a quarterback? Not to mention, the amount of cheating rumors hasn’t been helping you feel much better about the situation.

Maybe you’re overly petty or arrogant, maybe even codependent, but time has done little to heal the wounds caused by a certain actress.

Which is why you were supposed to be out having fun in the first place…although maybe all of this could have been avoided if a certain 22-year-old hadn’t lied her ass off and told you there was no chance in hell your ex would show up.

All you know is you’re stuck in a room full of people you don’t care about, anxiously looking around every few minutes hoping you won’t run into her. It’s exhausting but it’s also highly addictive.

You’re in the middle of debating ditching Billie and the rest of your friends instead of torturing yourself for another hour when you catch a glimpse of the person you’ve been trying to avoid all night.

Your eyes find her for just a few seconds and yet the whole world seems to stop all at once.

Just like the first time.

You wouldn’t say you have a habit of romanticizing the past…except when it comes to Hailee Steinfeld and her ridiculously enchanting energy. A lot of things have changed since the day you met but the one thing you’re sure will remain a part of you forever is the way your heart takes off running when she's around.

Running away would be easy. It would probably be the solution to your impending problem and yet you stay. Because as much as you hate to admit it…you’ve missed her. Seeing just a glimpse of her feels like ecstasy after spending so long trying to erase the thought of her from your mind.

You know you’re chasing after someone who isn’t even there anymore, someone who vanished the day Hailee chose to go out to dinner with that guy instead of coming home to you. The person you love has been shoved back into far more closets than you can count but you’re an addict and the thought of getting her back for just a few minutes gives you a greater high than anything else ever could.

So, despite the thousands of reasons not to, you find yourself walking toward her. You tell yourself it’ll be fine, she’s in the middle of ordering a drink and the chances of her paying attention to you are close to zero.

You quickly learn close to zero isn’t enough.

You arrive at the bar right when she’s turning around to go back to whoever it is she’s pretending to get along with tonight. Her eyes instantly find yours and whatever liquid courage you had fades away in that very same instant.

For a second, you expect her to walk away without even acknowledging your presence, but then her mouth opens. “I can’t believe you actually left the house for this.”

There were a thousand sentences you were hoping to hear her say and the one she chose is nowhere on it. It does nothing except remind you of all the infuriating reasons why you can’t be around her anymore.

“Gee thanks, don’t sound too excited.”

She merely shrugs, acting like she can’t see the way your smile drops. “Just being honest.”

At some point in your relationship, you would have made fun of her for sounding so much like the characters she loves to play on TV but today, her attitude pisses you off like nothing else.

“Honest, huh?” You scoff. “That's gold coming from the cheater.”

There’s a flash of something in her eyes, mostly annoyance, and you know damn well that’s exactly what you’re looking for. A sign that she’s still human despite how much she loves to pretend like she doesn’t have feelings anymore.

Unfortunately, you’re sure her reaction has more to do with the fact that you’re in a room full of people who could overhear you than anything else.

“Oh, come on. I didn't cheat on you,” she says in the exact same tone as all the times before.

“Right, right, you just casually had dinner with your new boyfriend while we were still dating.”

A crack begins to form in her facade but you’re too annoyed to celebrate.

All she does is groan before placing her drink down on the bar and coming toward you. She wraps her hand around your arm, seemingly unaware of the sparks her touch ignites, and drags you toward the first secluded area she finds.

“Are we seriously going to have this fight again?” She questions you once you’re away from prying eyes.

“Sure,” you reply. “The only thing we ever do is fight.”

“Stop acting like I’m the only one in the wrong here. We both made mistakes.”

You scoff. “You’re right, I trusted you wholeheartedly. What a stupid mistake.”

“Oh my God.” She throws her hands up, frustration dripping out of her every pore, and yet she makes no move to walk away from you. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Changing isn’t always such a good thing. Just ask Martini and Brando, I bet they love the weather in Buffalo.”

It’s another cheap shot and you know it. Most of all, you see it. The flash of hurt that lingers in the eyes you know so well.

“Don’t,” she warns.

You can’t stop yourself from adding more fuel to the fire despite her warning. “Why? Is that more honesty than you can handle?”

“y/n, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re right, I don’t know. Because I have no idea who you are anymore.”

It suddenly strikes you that you’ve had the same exact conversation with her before. You don’t know why you keep doing the same thing and hoping for a different ending. Especially considering Hailee is the most stubborn person you’ve ever met.

“You’re not the only one,” she says with a sigh, practically deflating in front of your eyes. “Believe it or not, you’re not the only person I’ve disappointed lately.”

“No offense but that’s the most accurate thing you’ve said in a while.”

A small chuckle escapes her and the sound instantly brings you back to simpler times. To spontaneous dates at the beach, random car drives to the middle of nowhere to watch the sunset, sleepless nights spent helping her rehearse for an early morning shoot the next day.

To being in love.

Back when your love actually mattered.

“Do you ever regret it?” You find yourself whispering into the space between you after a long silence. “Regret us?”

Her answer might split you in two but you're tired of the desperation that clings to you from the sheer amount of unsaid things that still linger in your mind.

“No,” she replies, her voice so quiet you almost miss it. “I regret how things ended, I regret what I did to you…do you?”

You shake your head before you can stop yourself, the truth spilling out of you just as fast as the tears that painted your face the day she left. “I regret…how much I love you…how impossible it is for me to hate you.”

For a split second, you catch sight of the Hailee you once fell in love with. The one with warm eyes and the softest smile imaginable. The one who could easily break your walls down with a single chuckle.

“Give it a few days,” she replies. “It’ll stop being so impossible.”

It’s ridiculous how enamored her words make you. It’s also stupid and infuriating that no matter how badly you want to walk away from her, you can’t find a way to make your feet move. You’re stuck and that growing smirk on her face tells you she knows exactly how much you’re struggling.

“No witty comeback?” She questions, her head tilting slightly to the side in an almost mocking gesture.

“I’m just trying to decide if I should slap you or not.” Your words hold no real bite to them, even if you wish they did, and you both have to pretend neither of you notice the way you lean toward her.

Her eyes betray her as they slide down your face until they reach your lips. Her gaze rests there for longer than would be appropriate for an exchange between old friends. But you’re not old friends. You’re something more. Something that exceeds categories and reasons.

Something that rests completely in the space between your mouths.

It should be easy to turn away from her…but it isn’t…and you can’t stop yourself from meeting her half-way when she leans in close enough for you to feel her breath on your lips.

It’s a mistake.

But it’s one you make as easily as falling in loving her.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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berrystiles · 1 year

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Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Word Count: 10.1k

Content Warnings: Angst, Lovers to strangers kinda deal ya know, some cursing.

Summary: It's the summer before you head off to college, and there's a fear about that decision that keeps creeping in. You try not to let it drown you, spending time making summer plans for your friends and with your boyfriend Steve. It feels like you can do this, and you're happy to be staring into the summer ready to make memories that will carry you into college. However, unbeknownst to you something else is brewing and Steve has plans of his own. One unexpected breakup later and your summer now looks a lot more like trying to overcome heartbreak.

Author Note: I'm the only one to read over this, so me and Grammarly are all I have regarding editing. Also, I guess this is just what I write now! Inspired by my favorite sad girl songs, if you know them I'm sure you'll see them. I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone would be interested? All of this was supposed to be a one-shot type of thing, but it started getting long. Part two would be a resolution as we fade into a happy ending, and get some much needed answers.

Ao3 Link - In case you want to read it there

Steve Harrington is soft smiles passed your way over the tops of all the children he babysits heads. He is weekend movie nights spent curled up next to one another on his couch, so close that you sometimes think you could become one person if you tried hard enough. He’s not your first relationship, but sometimes when you can’t sleep at night there’s a reoccurring thought that he is going to be your last. Steve has been orbiting around your life since elementary school, close but never within reach. That was the way, only knowing him through rumors passed around the halls of Hawkins High, two passing ships in the hallway between classes. This last year though has brought him into your world, no longer is he a passing comet that you stop to stare at. Now he’s yours and your mom will chide and say it’s just high school love, but you can’t imagine a world where his hand doesn’t stay attached to yours. Call it whatever you want, but something about this just feels too real. The kind of love you hear about in novels, the kind people wax poetic structures about. You’re not sure what you did in a past life, or what karma you collected over time, but you’re thankful for the universe putting the two of you together.

The only bleak part of your future with Steve comes after summer ends. You’ve just graduated, and school is expected of you in a way that you know you can’t turn down. Steve has been more than understanding, it’s a pressure he recognizes from his parents. You have no clue what you want to do but your dad swears that you’ll figure it out when you get there. You manage to get into a good school but it’s 5 hours away from Hawkins. Your parents are ecstatic, they can’t stop talking about all the ways you’re going to grow in this next phase of your life. Your parents are the people who met in college, and even though they won’t say it there’s something about you needing to attend that feels a little like them trying to relive their glory days. You love them but you’re not sure if they know you or if they really listen when you talk.

You find that if you put on a smile and nod along to what they say though it gets you through conversations faster. It’s a small price to pay so you can escape the house and rush to Steve. Steve who you hate to leave behind, sweet Steve who has been there to hold your hand and be your rock through it all. You’re not sure if you’d be able to put up with your parents’ expectations if he wasn’t there with you holding you up. You worry you put too much on him like you weigh him down the same way your parents tend to do. Sometimes you tell him your concerns, and he’s always quick to quiet the fear.

The thing with Steve is he is so soft sometimes, and yet you can’t help but feel protected in his arms. Still though, even as he brushes your hair to the side, as his lips touch yours and he peppers you with affection and reassurance, you make a vow to yourself to try and reduce how much you complain. You can’t stop the anxiety that sometimes spikes up despite his kindness that maybe this all hurts a little too much for him. After all, his family held similar expectations for him. You know that his dad is a different kind of mean and demanding than yours. Your family feels like a small-time problem when put into the perspective of Steve’s parents.

You have a mantra you follow, reminding yourself that school, as daunting as it is, is still months away. You have a whole summer to forget about it all. A whole summer of nothing but your friends and Steve. You know you’ll be right next door at the arcade, your shifts and Steve’s always lining up because of a favor Keith owed you. There are plans in place that will carry you through. There’s the drive-in and their Friday night movie deals, sunny days that will be spent at Lover’s Lake, the regular Sunday brunch at your favorite diner, and so much more. You make sure to focus on those things, knowing that all of it will be enough to get you through that first semester of school once you finally go.

However, like with most things that seem to happen in Hawkins, your good luck runs out. You hate to say it, but you didn’t see it coming. Delusional bliss is apparently where you’ve been living and the rose-colored glasses you didn’t know you were wearing are snatched off your face without a moment of hesitation. Looking back the signs will be there in glaring neon colors, and you will hate yourself for missing them. For missing them to the point that you couldn’t even backtrack to fix where your so-called perfect relationship went off the tracks.

It's a week into summer and things are not at all going to plan. Your parents are pressuring you to cut your summer short and go to school three weeks early so you can settle in for classes. And honestly, it’s not the worst idea and if you were anyone else maybe it would be appealing. However, you’re on a fixed time frame and you don’t plan to give up one ounce of time with Steve and your friends before you absolutely must. Despite schedules syncing up, there’s a distance growing between you and Steve. At the time you understand, there are kids to be driven around and then his parents unexpectedly show up back home. You don’t blame him for the distance, you take it in stride and offer your support just like he’s been doing for you. The future version of yourself, will look back and call you an idiot for not digging deeper. But why would you? In all the time, though maybe it hasn’t been that long, Steve has never once been the cause of your anxiety. Never once has he ever done anything to make you question your relationship, or whether you can trust him or not.

After a week of only seeing Steve in passing and on lunch breaks, you finally get the chance to have uninterrupted time with Steve. He catches you on a break at work and asks if you want to get dinner once your shifts end. He doesn’t carry that same glowing smile he always does when he drops these moments on you, but you brush the thought aside assuming this is the residual damage from his parents. You’re just happy at the prospect of being with Steve so you’re quick to agree, and even quicker to pull him in for a kiss to seal the deal. In your excitement, you don’t notice how this kiss doesn’t feel like a welcomed hello, and later you’ll tell yourself that it was the first sign of goodbye. But in the moment Steve is pulling away, and he’s looking at you like he's tracing and memorizing everything about you. “I’ll see you after work,” is the parting sentence before he’s jogging back to Family Video.

Steve and you meet in the middle of your two jobs, and he holds out his hand just like he always does. He leads you to his car, asking you about your day. You tell him about the party coming in, and about all the different characters of teens who came in. You prattle on and on, all the way to your favorite diner. You ask him about his day and try to get him to talk more. A quiet Steve, with eyes not shining, is a version you hate to see. You want nothing more than to pick him up, hopefully, wash off all the grime that his parents so obviously threw on him in the short week they were home. It’s always hard doing this walk and dance, the scars his parents leave him with always cut deeper than you have an awareness of. But it’s never this impossible, by the time you’re leaving the diner you’re more worried about what happened during this visit home than you ever have been. You’ve learned with Steve that when it comes to his parents you can’t poke too much otherwise, he gets spooked. Normally, he finds a way to talk about it usually when you’re both back at his place and the light is off for the night. When it’s so dark in his room that you can’t see the way his face is lined with grief, and pain that he shouldn’t have to experience. You’re so used to the pattern that you don’t mind the car ride after dinner being just the sound of the radio. It’s not unwelcomed, it’s just a part of the pieces that happen, which is why you’re surprised when Steve parks in front of your house.

“Oh, are we not going to yours?” Your brow is furrowed as you turn in your seat to face Steve. Even when you don’t stay at his place, he still is always looking at you when you turn to leave. This time though Steve’s hands are still holding on to the steering wheel, and he can’t turn to face you when he finally gathers the ability to reply. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

The radio is still on, and your ears pick up Whitney Houston singing a new song that’s been playing everywhere. “What do you mean,” your stomach feels like it’s falling right out of you and your brain is giving radio silence as you try to gain some understanding of what the hell is going on. You watch as Steve takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself before turning to face you. Every time Steve has ever looked at you it’s been with nothing but softness, an unquestioning gaze that always tells you what he’s thinking. The Steve before you though, these are eyes that aren’t that sweet look he normally gives you. Instead, this one is cold, one that you can barely recall. You have to pull at memories from his reign as King Steve to find some type of look that’s like the one you receive now.

“I just don’t think this is working,” he shrugs like this isn’t the biggest thing to ever happen before. Like he’s telling you something that should be common knowledge.

“I don’t understand, Steve.” There’s a burning feeling in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is a warning that if you don’t pull it together, you’re going to start crying. You don’t know how to pull it together because what little Steve is telling you sounds an awful like a breakup.

Steve sighs, something heavy like he’s just so tired of having to explain himself. It’s an odd sound and it rubs you raw because he hasn’t explained anything. How can he already be tired of a conversation that makes no sense?

“Look, I don’t want this to be harder than it is,” you cut him off before he can continue. “So don’t make it hard, just tell me what’s going on and why you’re saying all of this.” You don’t recognize your voice. The pleading tone sounds watery and not at all like what you know yourself to be. You don’t think you’ve ever begged someone in this way before.

“I just don’t feel the same way for you,” it’s so blunt and to the point that it leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t understand,” you’re repeating yourself and you hate that. You’re not stupid, you can usually piece things together faster than this. The phrase, ‘having the rug pulled out from under you’ rattles around in a way that suddenly makes total sense.

“I don’t know how to explain it any better. I don’t want to date you anymore. I don’t want to see you.” You didn’t realize before that the cold tone he was using still allowed for kindness. In this final statement, his words are ice, and you feel like you just took a plunge into Lover’s Lake in the middle of winter.

You have more you want to say, questions that you feel need to be asked. If you stay though you feel like you’re not going to get them, and honestly, it’s taking more energy to keep yourself together than it would be to stay. You’re not sure if you say anything else if there’s some kind of acknowledgement on your part. All you know is that your body is screaming at you to run. Staying in that car doesn’t feel like a place you belong, so you’re quick to get out. You don’t even make it to the door before Steve is peeling off and driving himself home. The action feels like the last break in any resolve you had. Your Steve would always wait until you were inside before leaving. Always telling you he'd rather know with certainty that you were safe before he ever left. It was one of those things that told you how caring he was, that showed how he loved you.

______________________________________________________________

In what will later be referred to as The Aftermath, you have the next day off. Your mom hovers at your door, knocking and knocking. The sound makes your head hurt and forces you to pull your covers over your head like it’ll drown out everything else. If you had anyone else as a mother, you might be able to convince yourself that she’s doing it from a place of concern. The truth is that this is the same woman who when you came in last night, uncontrollably sobbing and barely getting out the words ‘Steve’ and ‘broke up’, your mom was asking if this meant you’d go to school earlier like she and your father want.

The tears had stopped sometime around when you finally found yourself falling asleep. They haven’t picked back up and everything you ever learned in biology screams out you’re dehydrated. There are things you should be doing, things that you have done for yourself when other relationships ended that made it so the person you were dating was nothing more than a faded memory. Maybe if you go through the ritual of it all, the gathering of reminders, and the disposal of memories it’ll make you feel better. There should be phone calls to girlfriends, and movie nights set up to help push you through these feelings.

Instead, you continue to stay in bed. Your limbs feel like lead, weighed down and stuck, too heavy for you to move. Your curtains are drawn so tight that not even the hot Indiana sun comes through to ruffle you into motion. Your wall has your attention, and you find yourself using the texture of the paint to trace all the lines in your relationship with Steve. Maybe if you follow them to the end like a map, they’ll tell you where you are and where you go from here.

In the midst of The Aftermath, in the bed of your grief, you manage to make one phone call. Well… that’s a lie. You make two phone calls. In no surprise to the imaginary audience watching you grieve; the first call is to Steve. The phone rings and rings and rings. Steve never answers and it should be a sign. You get the standard Harrington voicemail. Steve’s mom’s voice becomes the soundtrack to your day. She tells you to leave a message, and that the family will get back to you when they can. You open your mouth, no plan on what to say but surely there’s something there in your head that will tumble out. The answering machine beep is met with your silence though, just your breath coming through, you wonder if Steve will know it’s you even if you don’t leave your name. Does he still have you memorized in all the ways that you still know him? Did he forget about you in just the span of a day? Worst thought of all, did he even really take the time to trace you down in his memory the same way you did him?

You hang up after that last thought, still no name and still carrying the hope that it could be enough. Your second call is made two hours later when there’s still no call back from Steve, even though he should be off today too. Even though, there’s a piece of your mind screaming over and over that he should have heard the silence in the message and been able to read through it. Maybe that’s unfair of you to place that on Steve, but it also feels unfair that he had the power and took action to bring you where you lay now. The second call is to Keith at the arcade, where you know he’s working since you’re off today. The favor you cashed in on is wasted because your request is for him to take back your schedule.

“I can’t work the day shift anymore,” your voice is hoarse and throat sore as the words stumble out.

“That sounds like a you problem,” you grimace as you hear Keith chewing what you know are those stupid cheese snacks he always carries around.

You hold back a groan and tell yourself your next move, while incredibly bratty, is the only way that you return to work. Your parents hate you working at the place anyway, but you like the independence, you like having your own money and you don’t want to give up another thing this summer.

“It’s going to be your problem because I’m not working any shift that overlaps with Harrington. I’ll quit.” You hate how Steve has transformed into Harrington. Hate how removed it sounds, not at all reflective of how close you had been. If you say his first name though, you know you’re going to cry.

Keith whistles, the tone way too low and drags out in a way that makes you feel a wave of creeping anger you’re not used to.

“So, you and Harrington are over then. Knew he was stupid but didn’t think he was that stupid.”

“He’s not stupid,” your defense is soft, it feels telling of where you are. It isn’t harsh in the way that it should be. It’s not your job to defend Steve anymore, he let you go from that position last night after all.

“I’ll change the schedules,” is the response you get back and it’s the nicest thing that you think Keith has ever said to you. However, you know Keith, and this feels a little too easy.

“Is there a catch?”

“Nah, just can’t afford to lose you so consider it your lucky day.” It doesn’t feel like your lucky day, but you don’t say that. Just mumble out a thank you after he tells you that your shift tomorrow will be the closing shift and Harrington will be gone by then.

True to his word, when you pull into the shared parking lot of Family Video there is no sign of Steve’s car. There’s an awareness that it won’t always be this easy, that Hawkins is too small to go all summer without seeing him. And despite Keith’s previous comments on how he couldn’t afford to lose you, there’s also a silent understanding that he’s still going to be an absolute shit about all of this for the rest of the summer. Keith doesn’t know any other way to be, and it’s a moderate price to pay for your ability to at least show up to work without breaking down.

Dustin is the first one you see in The Aftermath, and you can tell by the way he keeps glancing at you in the arcade that he already knows what’s transpired between you and Steve. You’re not sure if it’s the telltale sign of the obvious breakup look you’re sporting, or if it’s Steve’s own admittance to the teen. Could be a combination of the two though. You looked in the mirror before leaving today. You’re fully aware that you look and feel like shit, and there’s no way to sugarcoat that.

Normally, Dustin would come to chat with you. Whether he’s with the rest of the party or by himself, he always says hello. He would do it before Steve, and you hoped that he’d do it after too. Dustin doesn’t say hello though, he avoids your gaze when you catch him looking your way, and even though you know at one point, he should come to you to complain about a machine he just leaves instead. The act makes you sad, it’s the first divide between the friendships you created and thought you would get to hold on to. Dustin might be in high school now, but he’s still a kid. Rationally, a piece of you should be able to string together how his silence speaks more about how he doesn’t know what to say and less about a side he’s choosing. Reality rarely ever plays out as it rationally should, so instead Dustin just becomes the first domino that falls, and you feel like you should have known everyone else would go along with him.

______________________________________________________________

The next three weeks find you oscillating like a fan. Days spent hiding in your room, working up the courage to move and take care of yourself. Then nights of work or spent rummaging through polaroids that catalog your relationship. You always told yourself you put them in a scrapbook, something to hold the years together so in old age you’d have something to shuffle through. It sounds silly now, but the pictures sit in a shoebox of movie stubs from the Hawk, the receipt from your first date together, and the paper menu from the diner that you talked a waitress into giving you. There are notes scribbled on lined paper that were slipped into your jacket pockets when Steve would kiss you goodbye as he dropped you off at school, dried flowers from prom, and so much more. After a week of crying over the pieces, ink smudging thanks to fresh tears your body can create again now that you’re hydrated, you manage to shove the shoe box in the back corner under your bed. You had to slide it back there with the broom, but you know it’s not within reach now and that feels like progress.

You still dodge calls from your friends that you collected outside of your relationship. When they manage to catch you on the phone they whisper sweet condolences, but underneath it’s an unspoken blame of how you should have known. “He was the King of the school, he only knows how to break hearts,” your friend Val tells you over the phone one night. Val pops her gum on the other end of the line, and it sets off a chain reaction of emotions. You feel like you’re going through the five stages of grief in that moment. Val tries to invite you out and reminds you that Hawkins has more boys than just Steve Harrington. She promises you a good time, a night to help you forget all about Steve. You make an excuse and promise to go out next time, but both of you know it’s a promise you won’t keep.

Your parents seem to have set up some game plan amongst themselves. They’ve learned that they can’t tell you that your heartbreak is juvenile. Instead, they preach about how open you’ll be to new opportunities when you head to school. Your dad has the course list, where he got it from you don’t dare to ask. He tries to plan out your future over dinner, but you don’t even know what life you want for yourself. Before this you just saw Steve in the future, you had naïvely assumed you’d have time to sort out the rest. But Steve’s in the rearview now, and your parents want to know what life you plan to have in your passenger seat.

It's three weeks of juggling it all, but you still haven’t seen Steve. It should feel like the universe is still on your side, but really, it’s more of a cosmic joke. It should be finally time for some peace, instead, the world feels the need to implode again. Your parents are out of town, an annual get-together with their old college friends, and you’re home alone. It’s late, you’ve only been off work for 20 minutes when you get to the grocery store. The pantry at home is bare bones and you’ve been putting off the need to go shopping for the last three days. You’ve been supplementing meals through various fast-food restaurants on the outskirts of town. But you’re tired of driving so far away, plus the taste of grease has become less and less appealing as the days have dragged on.

The evening finds you shrugging off your name tag from the arcade and running into Bradley’s to do some shopping before they close for the night. The air conditioning hits you right as the doors open, it cools your skin in a way that summer nights never will. You close your eyes and pause for a moment, maybe you look crazy, but it’s late and you don’t anticipate anyone else is going to be poking around the store. You grab a cart and you’re on your way, trying to be mindful to be quick because you know how it feels to work a closing shift. You wander up and down the aisles of the store, with no real list in mind just grabbing what sounds good. Your diet is still in a post-break-up mode which means you’re either only consuming junk food or pushing food around on your plate still too sad to eat. Which means, it’s time to be gentle with yourself and just grab the food that calls to you. Now is not a time for healthy eating and hitting every food group on that pyramid they went over in health class.

Because of this though you aren’t paying attention to what’s in front of you. You move through the aisles of the store with your eyes on the shelves, still having confidence in the fact that it’s just you and the store clerk in here. But remember, Hawkins likes to implode both literally and emotionally. You swing your cart into the next aisle, already excited to be browsing the cereal options. You only make it a handful of steps forward, eyes already searching for the cinnamon toast crunch which you’re rarely allowed to bring into the house otherwise your mom will complain. Your cart jolts and pushes you back, and you look up to find that you’ve hit another person’s cart.

You feel silly, and your cheeks are warm in an embarrassed flush. “I’m so sorry,” the words tumble out as you drag your gaze up to see what suburban mom you’ve managed to piss off tonight. When you see who it is though you find yourself wishing it was a mom about to yell at you, instead it’s Steve, you find yourself in front of. He says your name, a hint of surprise, and what you might have previously labeled as nervous energy. You must look stupid, both of you really, just standing in silence as the hum of the grocery store lights buzz on and the radio station the store is set to plays out louder than it should. Steve’s cart is full of popcorn, and snacks that you can trace to each teen you know he babysits, there’s even Robin’s favorite chips and the beer that Eddie likes to drink. All of it slides together and reminds you that it’s Saturday, which means movie night at Steve’s.

You don’t know what to say, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen so that you can’t even run to escape the impending collision that is about to take place. It’s Robin rounding around the corner, her voice loud and unapologetic in a way you have always admired. “Hey, dingus, should we grab some ice cream for Erica, or do you think…” her voice trails off as she catches sight of you. “Oh,” and you look to Robin, she raises a hand to give a small wave at you and smile. It’s enough to also jump Steve into movement again, saying your name and you don’t wait to see if there’s more.

You don’t say anything as you turn to leave, though maybe you should have, at least to Robin. But she’s the headlights turning off and giving you the freedom to run. You can eat another fast-food burger tonight, and you hate that you’re just leaving your cart in the middle of the cereal aisle. But you can’t, you won’t just sit there and let yourself wonder that store when it’s obviously not a safe place.

The air conditioning hits you again as you run out the doors. No time to pause this time, and you actually seek comfort in the sticky heat that greets you outside of Bradley’s. The crickets sing to you as you rush to fumble with your keys and drive away before your past tries to catch you outside. You got three weeks of no Steve, and you had been lulled into this fantasy of maybe being okay someday soon. This though, this small interaction, where you didn’t even really talk to him, has shown that you’re not close to that. When you finally manage to pull into your driveway, your hand bangs down on the steering wheel. You mumble to yourself, “that was so stupid, you just ran?”

You’ll eventually make your way into the house about 15 minutes later, after you had completely gone over the entire interaction about three times. You know it will continue to replay all night long. It’ll be inside that you realize you never even stopped to get food, too focused on seeking the safety that you can apparently only find in your room these days. Time drags on and you keep opening and closing the fridge and the cabinets hoping that food will magically appear the next time you start looking. It’s late, Bradley’s will have to be a tomorrow you type of goal. You know Steve and the group will be up late tonight which means the morning will be safe.

You’ve resigned that tonight’s dinner will be a pack of saltines you find buried in the back of the pantry when there’s a knock on your door. Your friends know not to show up unannounced, and if your parents managed to come home early, they wouldn’t be knocking. It’s Hawkins, you remind yourself as you creep to the door, but then the additional it’s Hawkins kicks in and there could be anything waiting for you. You grab your mom’s tennis racket from the closet by the front door and peek out the peephole, but your porch light isn’t on, and you can’t see anything. When you open the door, tennis racket at the ready, there’s no one there. Instead, sitting on the mat right in front of your door is three bags of groceries from Bradley’s.

The bags contain all the items you remember dumping into your cart, including the added addition of one box of cinnamon toast crunch. You can’t prove it, there’s no note, but you don’t really need it do you? There are only two people who would have had access to the cart you left behind, and only one of those two would have added in your favorite cereal. An internal debate rages inside of you, one side of you wanting to leave the food on your porch. Hoping that maybe later Steve will drive by and see it still sitting there. Maybe it will be an ounce of the hurt he's inflicted on you. The other part of you though, the part whose stomach is literally just growling at the prospect of food, wins out. You drag the bags inside and spend the night cycling between the incident in the store and what the bags of food on your porch mean.

The next day feels like a relapse, and you find yourself pacing by your phone, the internal debate to call Steve rages on in your mind. The number of times you pick up that phone and start to punch in his number is too many to count. There’s only one time when you get through the whole number, you only let it ring once before you’re slamming the phone back down and rushing off to your room. You throw yourself onto your bed, face first into your pillow, and you scream. It feels like every emotion that’s been building up since that night in Steve’s car just forces its way out of you. You spend the rest of your day in bed, Don’t Dream It’s Over plays on repeat as you stare at your ceiling and only recognize time passing by the light that streams in from your window.

When your parents come back a week later you say that you want to leave Hawkins earlier after all. They don’t even ask why you changed your mind. They don’t press the issue, which you figured they wouldn’t, but it still stings. instead, they celebrate. Your mom pulls you into her arms and excitedly tells you that it’s the second-best decision you’ve ever made. Your dad chimes in about how the first was applying to college in the first place, his hand feels heavy on your shoulder. The smile you wear feels like it was pasted on, like some macaroni art piece a kindergartener does. Your parents don’t notice though, they never do, they move on already making plans about your departure. The choice doesn’t feel right, but then again, you’re not really sure what the right choice is any more or how it should feel.

______________________________________________________________

You spend the rest of your summer forcing yourself into spaces you don’t want to be in, but it feels like you have to. You got to parties with Val, you spend summer days at the pool with your friends as you planned. It may not be all the friends that you had anticipated being with but it’s something. You feel like with each activity you do you’re adding another band-aid to your heart hoping that this time maybe it’ll stay together. There are times, like at the community pool, when you sit with your friends, and you don’t really feel there. It feels like you’re playing a part and you’ve never been a good actress, so you’re still surprised when everyone just believes it.

Time and life keep moving forward and you wish it felt like you were too, but you still feel stuck. Your parents think that time won’t start moving until you’re away at college, and your friends believe that you need to start dating someone new to feel like you’ve moved on. You don’t think any of them are right but again you’re still stuck wondering what the right move is and how it’s supposed to feel.

What you do manage is to only catch glimpses of Steve for the rest of the summer. You see him at the movies dropping the party off, and you catch him one day leaving Family Video when he’s stayed too late. There’s another day at the grocery store, where you find yourself hiding behind a display stand to avoid the awkward run-in. You see him but you don’t think he ever sees you. You’re not sure if that’s exactly what you want, but if it is then why does it still also ache? A week before you leave you seek Steve out. You spend the morning giving yourself a pep talk, you take the time to perfect your outfit and ensure that you look better than you feel. This encounter is in your control, and you want to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.

You march into Family Video. You’ve been waiting for Robin to leave for her break and for a lull in customers to happen. When all the stars align you take a deep breath, shake out the nerves and move forward with purpose. You have a week left in Hawkins and all your teen magazines have told you that if you want to start college off right you need closure.

The bell above the door rings out in a way that feels louder than you remember. You don’t let it stop you though, you move forward and watch with some satisfaction as Steve’s head pops up and surprise washes over his face. Good, you think to yourself, finally, he knows what it’s like to be ambushed. You’ve planned out what you want to say so once you’re at the counter you speak before Steve can completely derail you.

“Harrington,” the last name comes out a lot calmer than you thought it would, you feel confident. “I leave for school next week…”

“Next week?” Steve interrupts, he looks like he has more to say but you send a glare his way which is enough to have him holding back words. If you paused long enough to just stare at him, you might wonder if he's disappointed, but you don't let the silence linger long enough to notice.

“As I was saying, I leave next week for school, and you owe me some type of closure or explanation for what happened. I’ll be at the diner tomorrow night, 7 pm and I expect you to show up.” You’re proud of yourself, your voice has an edge to it that leaves no room for disagreement.

Steve just says your name and he says it in the same soft way he did when you first started dating. You feel ruffled and some of that confidence feels like it’s being washed down a drain somewhere. “No,” you interrupt him. You can feel the tension in your forehead, you know your brows are furrowed and the frown on your face is reflecting your real emotions instead of some mask you’ve been wearing.

“You just dumped me, out of the blue and you gave me no explanation. I’m leaving next week, and you owe me this. You don’t get to dump me, say that you don’t care for me, and then leave groceries on my doorstep, Steve.” Something in your words must hit a soft spot that you know Steve still has inside of him. Even if his feelings for you are long gone, Steve has always been gooey and soft like caramel on the inside.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.” You stare at him a moment longer, trying to figure out if you’re getting an honest response. Once you’re sure you are you nod and turn to leave. When you were dating you never liked saying goodbye to Steve, it was always a see you soon. Now when you leave there’s no goodbye, but it’s more because you don’t want to waste another word on him. Not when you need to prepare for tomorrow.

______________________________________________________________

The next night finds you showing up at the diner first. The waitress recognizes you and tells you it’s been a while since she’s seen you. You don’t have the heart to tell her the reason why, you just smile and walk to the booth that used to belong to Steve and you.

You don’t feel as prepared for your conversation tonight as you would like, but you do feel less fragile. Somewhere between yesterday and today, you’ve managed to slide into the anger stage of your grief. There are times when you’re not sure if you’re going to just hit Steve as soon as you hit him, or worse. Worse is that small intrusive thought that you have about kissing him one last time. It’s weird because you’re so angry, the angriest you think you’ve ever been before. You feel like a pot that was left on a burner too long, just boiling over the edge and sizzling when you hit the stove eye.

And yet, behind all that anger there’s still the part of you that loves Steve. That piece of you can’t even remember the last time you kissed. You have fuzzy memories of when it might have happened. Maybe a goodbye kiss as he dropped you off at home, something that happened underneath his comforter as you both tried to hide away from the world a little longer. Either of those or something more is possible. It’s just... how were you supposed to know you needed to remember it? You think that maybe this time if you knew it was the last, you’d feel more prepared this time. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.

You slide the salt shaker between your hands, watching as it glides over the table as smooth as butter. Another glance at the clock tells you that Steve is late, Steve who was never late to anything that had to do with you before. The heat starts to turn up, and you feel more and more like that roaring boil of the pot. Twenty minutes after the hour he was supposed to be there the bell chimes above the door.

You don’t give in to the urge to look, you watch the salt continue to glide over the table. You know already it’s Steve because that same waitress is telling him that his girlfriend is at the regular booth. Steve doesn’t even correct her, at least not that you can hear. Steve slides into his seat as easily as the salt continued to glide on the table. All the anger you felt feels like it whooshes out of you. You go from feeling like a boiling pot to a balloon that was blown up and then let go before the air could be sealed inside.

As you sit across from him, the silence stretching on like the miles on an interstate you find yourself spiraling. People, mostly your friends and parents, have implied that it was childish of you to assume that your relationship with Steve would be anything long-term. And maybe you were, maybe somewhere in it all you got swept up in teenage fantasies. Sitting across from him though reminds you how it happened. For all the pain he’s caused, Steve Harrington is still the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen.

The people of Hawkins can gather and label you as simple-minded for all you care. Slap a label on you and shelve you in the town library with all the other romance novels, you don’t care. Because for all that they say you saw yourself creating a future with this man in front of you. Sure, maybe you romanticized it all, but God… you would have married Steve if he had given you a chance.

It’s that thought that spurs you back into the anger portion of The Aftermath. Because you didn’t build your relationship up by yourself. Steve was there too, he’s the one that layered the cement for your foundation. Steve with his endless flirting, his soft compliments, his whispered promises of forever. And even at the end, Steve left you with no explanation for this exit he took. And you can’t start your journey until he finally tells you why.

“You never really gave me a why for what happened at the end. I hate that it’s been months and I can’t let go of you, and maybe I’m just oversharing here, maybe I cared more, but I have to know. Steve, what the hell happened to us?” You’re surprised how quickly the words come out, but you’re pleased that they sound so tough. If Steve is surprised that you had to break the silence, he doesn’t show it.

“We’re young, this wasn’t going to be forever.” Steve’s voice isn’t loud, but it feels like it echoes in the diner. You want to sink into the vinyl of the booth, but you know you can’t.

“See, you say that but,” you take a breath to collect yourself to figure out how you say this all. “We talked about plans, Steve.” You look up, it’s easier to stare into the fluorescents than into Steve’s eyes. Your nerves make themselves known as you feel your fingers picking at the dry skin around your nails.

“Maybe somewhere along the way, I was looking farther into the future than you were. And if I was then I guess that’s on me. But I didn’t even know forever was an option until you gave me the words to use.” You shake your head like it’ll knock away your disbelief. Your gaze drifts from the lights to your hands gathered on the top of the table now.

“There was that time,” You lay your hands flat on the table hoping the action will stop the nerves from expanding. “We had only been together for like 4 months, and it was that really rainy day?” It’s a question, a quick uptake that doesn’t need an answer. You finally look to Steve again, waiting for some recognition to spark in his mind before you bulldoze on.

“We stayed in your bed for hours, wrapped up in one another. It was the laziest and softest day we had since we started dating. And there was that moment, and you told me that you wanted pause time.” A grimace of a smile forms, and it’s a bitter laugh that accompanies it. “You wanted to stay in that moment forever, do you remember that?”

Steve, who has been so emotionless through your every moment since you broke up, seems to finally crack. You watch emotions slide out of him as you wait for a response.

“I remember.” It’s a whisper, a barely audible acknowledgment of your past. If words could hold weight though, if they could carry more than a sound, you think those two would weigh a ton. They sound heavy at least, and for once you’re happy you don’t have to offer to carry them for Steve.

“So, when did that change?” You press on, encouraged by his response.

“I wish I could tell you. I wish there was a day or a time if that would help you. It was slow, and then it was just there and so I ended it.” Steve’s response is a rush of words, and his gaze isn’t even on you. It all collides together like a car crash. And just like a car crash once the collision hits, you can’t look away from it. It feels like a tragedy, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but human nature is human nature, and you can’t change that. Maybe there’s more to say after his confession but instead, Steve leaves without saying goodbye. His departure is quick and you calling his name is the only thing that follows him.

You stay stuck in that booth for a while, Steve’s words rolling around in your head like a tumbleweed. This was supposed to be closure, but it doesn’t feel like anything has been closed. You feel like you’re trying to piece a puzzle together but some of the pieces are still missing. Steve is the only one that has them but he’s refusing to let you see them, so you don’t even know what you’re trying to put together.

A small nagging part of you feels like there’s still more to this. Like something bigger is at play. But if Steve isn’t willing to share with the class despite all your opportunities for him to do so you’re at a loss. You have to, at a certain point, accept the fact that this is an unknown portion that you’ll never get answered. You hate that, hate how bitter it tastes, but you have no other choice than to find a way to work towards it. Because if nothing else, this night has shown that you can’t keep this candle burning when someone is actively blowing it out. It’s time to snuff the flame out yourself. You want to hope that maybe it’ll be easier once there’s some distance between Steve and yourself. Maybe if you’re no longer hiding from him at the grocery store that door that feels like it’s still wide open will start to close and you can move on.

______________________________________________________________

The day before you leave feels like a round of goodbyes. You hadn’t told anyone besides Steve that you’d be leaving early. Your friends are surprised, and you smile and tell them you’re just excited. Steve had always been your secret keeper, the only one that knew the fear you had around going to college. So, you know your lie will go over smoothly with your friends, and just like you’ve been doing for the remainder of the summer your mask of ‘I’m fine’ will help sell the story more.

It's the kids and Robin that you feel the most torn on, the ones that you struggle with when it comes to a goodbye. The breakup fractured a lot of things in your life, and it feels like maybe you lost them all somewhere this summer. They were never really yours though, so how you could have lost them you’re not sure. In the end, you solidify your resolve and even if it means nothing to them it does mean something to you. You’ve already worked your last shift, and yet you sit in the shared parking lot of your former work and the only place you’re guaranteed to find everyone you need all at once. Since the mall is long gone, this is the best place to be on a hot summer day. Unless you want to share the pool water with the rest of the Hawkins. You wait, you let Steve leave for his lunch, and you take that as your moment.

There’s no speech planned, nothing too major in your goodbye. Robin’s surprised face is what greets you when she looks towards the bell ringing. A soft exclamation of surprise escapes her and she looks confused. “I don’t want to waste your time,” you find yourself telling her. This is the quietest you’ve ever seen Robin.

“I just wanted to say goodbye. I know you’re his friend, and we haven’t really talked since… Well, you know when, but sometimes you felt like my friend too and so I just wanted to say goodbye before I left and that I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you before this.”

All your words sound so unsure, and you feel like you should be phrasing questions instead of just statements.

Silence hangs over the store, and you feel like if you don’t leave it’s just going to grow more awkward. “Okay, well then.” You mumble to yourself, and you force a smile and a wave before you turn to go. You make it to the door, it’s open and you are half in the heat and half in the air conditioning when Robin finally speaks.

“I’m sorry,” it’s not what you expect, and you throw a glance over your shoulder. Her face reflects the apology she’s given you. “We were friends, it’s just-” You shake your head and interrupt.

“It’s okay, Robin. He was your friend first, I’m glad that he had you and the kids.” You smile, and it feels real this time. “Maybe when I get back for winter break, we could be friends again?”

“I’d like that.” Robin matches your smile, and her nod is enthusiastic. You wave one last time and head fully out into the heat, you’ve got one more stop right next door and then your goodbye tour of Hawkins will be over.

The kids are right where you expect them. Tangled together around one of the games, with Max behind the controls. You wait until the losing screen comes on before addressing them. Your goodbye with the kids is just as short as your one with Robin. “You know I’m kind of gonna miss watching you all hold these games hostage,” Your tone is cheerful, not at all scared like you feel inside. The kids are quick to turn around and it’s Will that matches your tone when he calls your name. Will has always been the kindest of the bunch, and he’s quick to hug your side while everyone else smiles and says hello.

Max is the one to break the greetings, always the most impulsive of the group. “What are you doing here, do you work today?”

“Uh no, actually I came here looking for you guys.” You feel like you stumble over your words, especially as Mike gives you the most suspicious look you’ve ever seen him throw your way. He’s always hard to please, but you feel like maybe you shouldn’t have added him to the goodbye tour after all.

“I just wanted to say goodbye, I know we haven’t talked this summer but still.” You find yourself shrugging as you finish talking.

“You’re leaving already?” It’s Dustin this time, and you find yourself surprised. He hasn’t talked to you since the breakup, and you assumed that would carry over to this conversation. His tone sounds disappointed, and you find yourself feeling guilty for a reason you can’t name.

“I leave tomorrow,” there’s a chorus of groans and refusals that leave the kids. Something like regret swells up because sure these were Steve’s kids first, but they were kinda yours too. You knew them before Steve and had a whole weird dynamic with them before you even knew Steve worked next door. A part of you feels like you messed up this summer by not making more of an effort with them.

“I’m sorry about this summer,” the expressions they turn your way feel like they know too much for kids who are too young to be wrapped up in your love life drama. “We’re sorry too,” Lucas tells you. “You have nothing to apologize for okay,” you look at each one of them, the look on your face leaves no room for argument. It’s always worked with the group.

“Maybe when I get home for winter break, we could all do something together?” You offer them the same olive branch that was extended to Robin. Everyone, Mike included you’re happy to note, nods their head. You find yourself ruffling Will’s hair, he’s still the closest to you. “It’s a plan,” you tell them. “I’ll let you get back to the game, make sure you keep that top spot!” Max tells you not to worry about it, a smirk already forming on her face. You give them all one last smile and make your way out of the building.

You think you’re done, and you feel as at peace as you think you can manage under the circumstances of it all. You unlock the door of your car, plans already in mind for what is left to pack up for the trip tomorrow when someone is calling out your name. You look up and find Dustin running towards you. You meet him part of the way, and he’s throwing his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. There’s a huff of surprise that forces its way out upon the impact, but you don’t hesitate as you return the hug.

His voice is muffled, and you rub soothing circles on his back. “Dustin, I can’t understand you.” You keep your voice soft like you’re talking to a startled animal. It’s just a moment before he pulls back, and you’re met with a teary face. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you this summer,” Dustin’s words are rushed and come out as almost one sound. You find yourself shushing him and pulling him in for another hug. “You’re all good, it’s okay.”

You give him a minute to just feel his big feelings before you push him back. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you find you don’t have to bend down too far to meet his gaze. You wonder when he started getting so tall and remind yourself it was probably sometime this summer.

“Dustin, I’m not mad or upset or anything okay?” You wait for him to nod along to what you’re saying. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this,” there’s enough stress on sorry that you think it could take off like a jet with the force you’re pushing it out. “Steve and I were the adults, you shouldn’t have been caught up in the middle, okay?”

Dustin looks like he’s going to argue, “No arguments! This was between us, and we should have made that clear.” Dustin stares at you for what feels like a minute before he nods.

“I’m gonna miss you,” is what Dustin tells you next. “Keith is never gonna be as cool as you. Whose going kick all the older kids off the games for me?” You laugh, happy to see him joking with you now.

“I’m going to miss you too, kid.” You give his shoulders a squeeze, “I’m going to give you a secret, use it responsibly, okay?” Dustin gives you an excited look and nods his head quickly, “I promise,” he says.

“If Keith gives you any trouble, just tell him that you know about Lucy.” Dustin has questions you can tell. “Keith won’t ask you to tell him, he’ll be too embarrassed. If he asks how you know, then you just tell him I told you. He’ll do whatever you want.”

There’s a part of you that feels like maybe you’ve given him too much power, but Dustin’s always been a smart kid and Keith has always been a dick to him, so you don’t feel too much remorse. Someone should be benefiting from the information anyway, and Dustin feels like the right one out of the party to hold on to the information.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” You quote to him, it’s a quip he used to tell Steve all the time before you started dating. Something from a comic book if you remember correctly.

Dustin’s smile is blinding, “You were always too cool for him you know, it’s his loss.” You smile and hope it doesn’t come off as sad as it feels. “Thanks, Dustin.”

You ruffle his hair, just like you had done to Will. Dustin bats at your hands and you push him toward the arcade, “Go spend time with your friends. I’ll see you in December.”

Dustin starts to go but turns back just as quickly. “You promise?” The happiness that had been there before has been replaced with worry again. “I pinky promise,” you hold out your pinky to show him you’re serious. Dustin comes back just to seal the promise and then waves goodbye again returning to the arcade.

The next morning, when every spare inch of space in your car is covered in your belongings, you finally feel like you could actually leave this place feeling okay. Things are not at all the way you thought they would be when the summer first started. You also still feel a weird sort of dread about attending college, but it feels like you could conquer it. If you could do this, this weird limbo break-up, then you think college can’t be that bad.

Your parents aren’t going with you. Despite their excitement and all the ways they’ve pushed you into this decision, they have both told you they feel you have to do this alone. Everything is set up for you, your dad has given you a paper with your new address on it and a credit card for emergencies. You know in both their eyes they’ve done their job as your parents. They’ve paved the way for success and now it’s your responsibility to make them proud.

It feels fitting that you leave Hawkins the same way you started the summer, all alone. You tell yourself that this is what you need. You tell yourself a lot of things as you make your way to the town line. You try not to look in the rearview mirror, too afraid that you’ll see everything you’re leaving behind and change your mind. You remind yourself it’s a few months, and that you can do this. You just hope that you aren’t lying to yourself. You may not feel happy, but you also don’t feel completely numb either. Maybe that’s the right type of progress though.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #She's back at it again with another sad fic #but no one dies this time so progress #berrystiles writes #rwylm

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