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#i wasn't bothered by it being on the lip but it doesn't bother me either way i just wanted the flame gone

writingouthere · 5 months

Text

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader, you go to check out a potential apartment and Sukuna joins because he is very helpful. Longest one yet so strap in!

cw:Sukuna waving his red flag like a matador while you do your best SZA impression

Sukuna thought you seemed more stressed than usual when he got home. You still talked through dinner and entertained your daughter but he could tell something was weighing on you. While Bug chased some very melted ice cream around her bowl with her spoon, he brought over some dishes to where you had already started washing the pans you'd used to make dinner.

"Thought I was responsible for the dishes since you made dinner," he reminded you, gently nudging you out the way.

"It's really not a bother and besides, you're already doing us such a big favor, letting us stay here," you said and you sounded a little choked up at the end which made him turn the water off so he could give you his full attention.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't mind?" He couldn't help some frustration edging into his tone which only made you look sadder. He sighed and dried his hands on the towel, a new addition you had gotten, it was covered in sunflowers and it reminded him of you every time he used it.

"What's going on, you seem off today?"

You hesitated and he put his hand on your shoulder. He preened when you put your smaller hand on top of his and squeezed before giving you his full attention.

"I-I went to go see an apartment today and it was just awful." Sukuna barely fixed his face in time for you to look up at him. He had no idea you were even looking at other places. You'd barely been at his place a month and he had thought you had a good routine going on. You both split the household responsibilities and you spent your time not working together. He picked up your daughter twice a week now from daycare and took over Sunday mornings so you had some time to yourself. Someone at the grocery store had cooed over your adorable family and you hadn't even corrected them.

Obviously, you still weren't getting it and Sukuna reminded himself that it wasn't your fault. It was still like pulling teeth to get you to talk about your ex and honestly what he'd heard about your family hadn't really impressed him either. You had been taking care of yourself for far too long and it only made sense that you would be worried about being a burden on him when other people had made you feel like that rather than seeing caring for you as the privilege it was.

"Why was the apartment so awful?"

You bit your lip and he felt some concern that wasn't related to you potentially leaving. "What?"

"It was the usual, you know. It was over my budget and it was too small, I mean Bug is getting bigger every day, she needs her own room too. Then the building looks like it's only days away from collapsing and the guy who showed it, I mean he was just such a creep."

"Creep, how?"

You sighed and squeezed his hand again, but he wasn't sure if it was for your sake or you were trying to calm him down since he was sure his anger was obvious.

"It doesn't matter-

"Of course it matters, you're trying to find a home for you and your kid and some guy is making you feel uncomfortable in the space you might end up living-"

"-well I'm not going to live there, so. Doesn't matter," you say stubbornly and Sukuna hums but doesn't argue.

It's clear this is weighing on you, and while Sukuna has no intention of you moving out, unless it's him along with you, he figures this is a two birds one stone situation. Because fuck him if he was going to let you wander around the city being harassed by some dumb fucks who thought they could take advantage of a single mom.

"Are you seeing any other places," he asked and you bit your lip.

"Well, there was this one other place but after today I'm not sure-"

"Let me go with you," he said and you looked up at him and well, with the tears just beginning to fill your eyes and the little glimmer of hope he could see peaking out, how could he do anything but assure you. "Let me go with you and you can look around the place without worrying about anyone bothering you. Besides, it would make me feel better if I could scope out the place you and Bug might be moving to. I want to make sure you'll be safe."

Of course, you two would be safe because you would be with him but whatever got him to the showing.

"What about Bug?"

"Yuuji can watch her. He's been dying to babysit since he met her."

This was true. Sukuna's brother was suspicious, rightfully, of Sukuna and his intentions towards you, but Bug's cuteness was a great distraction whenever the three of them were together.

"Okay, okay. Tomorrow, could he watch her tomorrow?"

"Let me call, him. Don't worry, I'll take care of you, okay?"

You nodded and Bug started calling for you both. You went over to give your toddler the attention she clearly wanted while Sukuna finished the dishes and thought over how he would handle this situation tomorrow.

-------------------------------------------

The next day, Yuuji showed up bright and early with the two idiots that were always with him these days. Sukuna rather liked the Fushiguro kid but the woman that was always with him still got on his last damn nerve. Her and Yuuji together were a threat to decency laws and his fucking eardrums.

"Morning! Where is my precious baby girl," Yuuji cooed stepping in as if he still lived there as Fushiguro gave him a quick nod and Kugisaki walked in without even a hello.

"She's not your baby," Sukuna said, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.

"Well, she isn't your baby either, so."

Before Sukuna could literally murder his brother, you came out with Bug on your hip.

"Uji!!" Your daughter loved Yuuji and you put her down so she could run over and greet her favorite uncle.

"Thank you so much for watching her," you said grabbing your purse off the counter. "Are these your friends from school?"

The two freeloaders introduced themselves while Yuuji started flying your daughter around like he was a plane. At least your daughter would be tired by the time you two got back.

"Let's get going, we got to get there by nine," Sukuna said, putting his hand on the small of your back and directing you towards the door. There were several loud calls of good-bye and good lucks as you two shut the door and made your way to the car.

When you get to the apartment, the super is waiting at the front door of the building. Sukuna sees him shoot you a smarmy grin that abruptly drops off when he takes Sukuna in.

"Good morning miss, I wasn't aware you were bringing your...."

"Partner," Sukuna states firmly and holds out his hand. "Pleasure," he says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. You only look on in amusement as the fucker shakes his hand and then turns his eyes back on you, much more subdued than he'd been at first.

"Right, so the apartment is on the fourth floor. A walk-up but good way to stay in shape..."

He drones on as you and Sukuna follow behind.

"You cannot carry a stroller up four flights of stairs," he says in a tone that the super can definitely hear. "Bug also can't walk up four flights of stairs, especially after a whole day of daycare. Besides these stairs look like they might crumble and drop you to the fucking basement at any second." You smack his arm and the super looks pissed off until Sukuna stomps on a particularly wobbly stair for emphasis and he looks a little nervous. No way he was letting Bug walk up this deathtrap.

He keeps a running commentary of everything he sees, none of it good on the way to the apartment. The cracks in the ceiling, the chipped the paint, the flickering light on the third floor stairwell that makes him feel like they stepped into an 80's slasher flick. On and on he goes and he doesn't stop once they're in the shithole apartment itself.

A one bedroom, not nearly enough space for two, definitely not three which makes him even more irritated at the fact he clearly hadn't factored in at all to the choice in apartment.

He's in the middle of guessing outloud if the shower head would fall on top of you in the first week or the second when you snap.

"I know it's a piece of shit, Sukuna. I'm not an idiot, I'm desperate." You are more irritated than he's ever seen and the fucking creep of a super shoots him a smirk before Sukuna turns the full force of his glare on him. The man mumbles out something about giving them time to take in the space and leaves them alone, the door closing firmly in his haste.

"I don't think you're an idiot," Sukuna says, more calm than he feels because he definitely feels a type of way about all of this. "I just don't think this place is right for you or Bug. Do you expect me to apologize for caring?"

"Is that what this is? You come here to help me and all you've done is shit on the apartment and scare that poor man half to death."

"That poor man was fucking makes eyes at you until he saw me behind you."

"I know, but he got the point when you squeezed his hand so tight I think one of his knuckles popped!"

Sukuna snorted at that and even you seemed a little amused. You sighed and leaned against the wall behind you.

"I can't live with you forever Sukuna, we need a home."

Sukuna wanted to scream, to shake you and say that he was your home. Home for both of you but he knew you weren't ready to hear it and that if he misstepped you might end up living somewhere that seemed a strong breeze away from collapse.

"It's not forever," he finally said and this was true. You would need a new place soon, just not this place. "When I say I don't mind, I mean that I like having the two of you with me." You seemed a little surprised by this admission and Sukuna weighs his next words carefully.

"You're my friend and I care about you even if I have an unconventional way of showing you." You scoff and Sukuna presses on, he can see you softening. "Just wait a little longer. This place isn't good enough for the two of you but another place might be. I'd rather you stay with me longer and find the right place instead of rushing and choosing somewhere shitty because you think you're putting me out or something."

"What guy wants some mom and her kid crashing with him for months on end," you ask and you seem almost genuinely curious.

"You're not some mom, you're you and I happen to really like that kid." You smile and Sukuna knows he's got you. "I mean as we speak she's probably putting Yuuji and his loser friends through the ringer and that's reason enough to keep her around."

"You think anything will be broken by the time we get home," you ask and he feels the clump of blood and flesh that makes up his heart squeeze just a little tighter. Home.

"Oh, definitely but that's why we're not paying them for their services." You laugh and Sukuna walks a little closer to you. You watch him, a little confused but he thinks he sees some anticipation too as he closes in on your space and puts a hand on your cheek. He leans in and he knows he's not making it up that your eyelids flutter as he gets closer.

It's tempting but when Sukuna kisses you for the first time, it's not going to be in a place like this while some scumbag is probably listening through the door.

"Let's go home," he says and he presses a gentle kiss against your cheek. You'd done the same to him many times by now and he can see the appeal when he hears your sharp intake of breath and finds himself surrounded by the smell of your shampoo.

While your quest to find an apartment was unsuccessful, Sukuna thinks that important progress was made today. It fills him with a sense of contentment that manages to sustain him even as the two of you come home to an apartment overflowing with chaos and a spiderweb of cracks across his tv.

When he goes to kick Yuuji's ass, Bug makes sure to lend her support to her poor uncle by clinging to Sukuna's leg and laughing while the two men roll around on the floor to your amusement.

Like he would ever let you leave this.

also people have been suggesting that I make a masterlist or create some sort of tags and while I know what these are(kind of), I'm also not sure the specifics so any advice on how to make this all easier to find would be appreciated! I've been creeping on tumblr for literally over a decade but never written like this before.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x singlemomreader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you

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love-toxin · 1 year

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MR O’HARA HAS ME ACTING FERAL BOTH OF MY LIPS HAS BEEN DROOLING SINCE I WATCHED ATSV OPENING NIGHT… I NEED HIM TO DESTROY ME

RIGHT??? LIKE--LIKE--

(cws: across the spiderverse spoilers, gn pronouns, smut, rough sex, mating press, size kink, biting/venom, belly bulges, mindbreak(?), breeding mention, a bit of forbidden love trope)

Like....imagine, if you will, becoming an assistant for the Spider-society after your dimension is destroyed. It's mostly because Miguel took pity on you since you're not a spider-person, you had nothing to do with the unravelling of your world, and/or you were meant to gain your spider-powers but an anomaly in your dimension prevented it. Since there's no place for you in another multiverse, he keeps you on his team both to give you asylum and to keep an eye on you just in case you prove to be an anomaly yourself....but it becomes pretty clear pretty early on that you're not really a threat. Not for violence, at least.

You're just a sweet thing that gets doted on by nearly everyone in the society--you're either a refreshing break from the endless spiderman variants running around or you remind the spiders of their Mary Janes, their Gwen Stacies, their Gayatri Singhs, and being a civilian to boot makes you the perfect candidate to have your things carried for you and be given web-slinging rides around the facility even though you're supposed to be the assistant here.

But even so, even though you're treated so lightly, Miguel really likes you and even--gasp--enjoys your company. It can be hard to tell with him, but the most perceptive of the spiders notice that Miguel keeps you in his good graces always. When he's stressed or in a bad mood, he collects himself before he speaks to you. He never snaps at you, and on the very rare times you get caught in his crosshairs, he apologizes quietly and gently and reiterates that whatever it was about, it wasn't your fault. He gives you so much wiggle room for error to the point that his companions sometimes complain outright that he's such a hardass, but he never berates you when you make a mistake, and without fail Miguel will come up with some reason for it; "That's because they don't screw up as often as you do" or "At least I can trust them to do their job", or he'll just tell whoever's bitching to leave you out of it and he'll dismiss you to discuss the matter privately.

Surprisingly, those incidents don't bother him nearly as much as when the inner circle starts getting closer to you. He feels this deep need to pull you away when Gwen offers to take you on a trip through the dimensions (although that's just plain dangerous), but it also bubbles up when Hobie hangs around and encourages you to join his band, and when Jess asks you questions about your life and is eager to hear about any potential romances you might be getting yourself into--there's a lot of single spider-people out there, and you're not tied to any dimension, so you've got plenty of options!

God, Miguel hates when Jess brings that up. You don't need to go anywhere, your place is here. You can stay here safely, which is something he can't promise in any of those other dimensions the spiders come from. But that's not the real reason, he realizes that when he feels that tingle at the sight of you holding Mayday and playing with her, having been given the task of impromptu babysitter for Peter when he has to rush off and do damage control somewhere.

It's you. He likes having you around, and it's not about letting you venture off into other dimensions, he just doesn't want you to leave him. That's why he loves it when you reply to those people, when you tell them "Oh, but I couldn't leave Mr. O'Hara! He'd lose his head without me." or "I really like this job, actually. I wanna keep working under Mr. Miguel." and especially "Miguel saved my life, I owe him all I can give. I could never leave him all alone." because it just reaffirms that desire for him to keep you as close to his side as possible. When he replays those videos of himself and his daughter, the pain is dulled for a while as he sees your eyes in hers, and envisions a future where you create a new family with him--one that he can properly protect this time.

It's that fantasy that emboldens him to lay hands on you, your body so puny and small in comparison to his massive frame, so fragile as he holds your hips in both hands and waits for you to tell him this isn't really what you want. He's waiting for it, anticipating it, even reminding you that you have the option when you look up at him shell-shocked. He promises that your answer won't affect your position here. It falls on deaf ears, however, because you desperately want to kiss him but you just don't think you can reach.

It's so adorable to see you try. Up on your tiptoes, clutching at his suit, straining to try and reach him where he's at--all it takes is an arm around your waist and he's got you off your feet and in the air, perfectly situated to press your pretty mouth to his own and awaken his instincts that have laid dormant all these long years. The stress of keeping each and every dimension following its intended canon has nearly broken him, it might have done so already if not for your unexpected appearance in his life. It's riled him up so much he doesn't think twice about taking you back to his place, nor gives him second thoughts when you help him peel that tight suit off and he tears through your clothes just as easily--maybe it really doesn't matter. His world is gone and so is yours, but you're both still here and you're begging him for another kiss, for more attention. How sweet could you possibly be? Pleading for something you'll always have and not realizing it's the least you deserve, perfect as you are?

Miguel just can't help himself anymore, he's too far gone and you’re too angelic for him to let down when you want him so badly. You don't seem to mind the rough treatment as he pushes you down either, no, you thrive on his aggressiveness and even encourage it to come out as he clambers over you. That pretty smile and those giggles as he shoves your thighs apart and spits, his venom sending electrifying tingles up and down your spine as he fingers the makeshift lube inside you. He's so bulky you can't even get your legs all the way around him when he lowers himself, forced to let your heels scrabble down his lower back as you struggle to find some kind of purchase on him--to just grab something and let it keep you steady as he slides in and rocks you into oblivion. The toxins loosen you up too, thank god, or else you'd be seriously struggling to take him in when he's practically twice your size. And he doesn't want to force it in, he just wants to ease you into the process before he allows himself to batter your poor body with thrusts that shake the whole bed--it's a little bit of payback for flaunting your pretty self around his office without ever telling him how you actually feel about him. Now you know exactly what you've been missing.

Drooling, hair sticking to your skin, sweat dripping down your chest, body gripping him like a vice yet endlessly slick....you're a total mess and he couldn't be more satisfied. You don't even try to keep yourself together, but that's all that he wants--he wants you to lose yourself in the way he makes you feel so you won't ever want to leave. The taboo is there; you're not from his dimension, he shouldn't be planning any kind of future with someone who doesn't belong in his world. But it makes it all more thrilling in the moment even if he can reason his way around it, it makes his every thrust gain power until he's breaking your willpower down enough to have your eyes rolling back in your head, hips jumping weakly as you try to participate. You don't even know how good you make him feel without lifting a finger.

Gliding through you as if you couldn't be more willing to take him, his position is clear just from a glance down at your stomach--the bulge is obvious, and as sickening as it could be your whines as you brush your fingertips over it sing his praises without a coherent word. You're so wet and stupid and needy on his cock, clearly he should've done this a long time ago when you were so much worse at hiding your pining looks at him from across the room. If he knew it would culminate into this, he would've saved the assistant crap and turned you into his stress relief toy that very first day. If he had, you might've already had a family by now....knowing him, at least.

It's still just as sweet to lick your tears up now, though. You're already drunk on his cock, it doesn't make much more difference for him to sink his fangs into your throat and pump you full of more venom straight from the source, the shock sending you straight into orgasm and dragging it out for so long he fears you might just pass out from the pleasure. It's like he's juicing up a plump little fruit until it's so ripe it could burst. And as if your own ecstasy wasn't enough, you really lose it when Miguel has you pinned and flooding that sore, fluttering little hole with so much seed it burns. Jets of pearly-white cum squirting down your thighs, painting you like a canvas without him even pulling out, because you just can't take him at his peak and you know it. You just have to whine and squirm beneath him as he fills you up, his hot breath puffing over your cheeks as he keeps you barely still enough not to wiggle away. With a shift of your hips you nearly slip off right up to the tip, his cum sloshing about and making everything too slick--but a hand slides up your neck and grips the crown of your head, his biceps flexing as he slowly pushes you back down with vermillion eyes piercing through your heated flesh. Lower, deeper, until he's seated himself up in your guts again and holds you there to milk those last few shots out of him, keep him nice and warm with those precious walls uncontrollably spasming around him. Doesn't stop you from pulling his head down closer, though, and whispering your praises while begging in whimpers in equal measure, urging him not to stop now. You're not ready to let him go.

How convenient is that? Miguel won't ever let you go, and he's known that deep in his chest since the moment you arrived--it couldn't make him any more satisfied to know that you feel the exact same way.

#don't look at me i know im 100% off the shits #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x reader #spicy writing #ellie writes #anons

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ashwhowrites · 25 days

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hi! Can I request older Eddie and student reader?

They met in coffee shop he's working in and since then they're dating.

One time he hears two student talking about reader (they said her name and ginger hair color) and one student's complaining how he flirt all the time with her but she doesn't even see it. All she talks is her boyfriend

And Eddie has been feeling insecure in this relationship because he thinks he's too old for her and she can do better than him but he's not jealous. He knows she would never cheat on him.

But hearing this conversation he became so self confident and appreciated and when she visited him after closing coffee shop, he literally can't stop himself from showing her his love. They have the most passionate sex in the back of the coffee shop. His main mission became making her feel so good so she can't think about anything else than him

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 I didn't include the specific hair color since I never go into specifics with how the reader looks so it's open to everyone.

⚠️SMUT, I wrote it high so I'm not even sure what I wrote

College boys

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was near graduation, ready to be handed her degree. She had a small waitressing job to make quick money, and she had the perfect boyfriend.

She met him at the coffee shop he worked at. He was older, roughly in his thirties. He worked at the coffee shop for extra money, his main career being in mechanics. His rough hands traced delicate shapes on her skin. His mature eyes captured her perfectly in every moment.

She felt like she could remember every detail no matter how much time passed.

She walked into the shop, a laptop in her arm as she searched the menu. It was a new coffee place and she wasn't sure what to get. She felt nervous as she realized she was next and had no idea what to get.

"What can I get you?"

She opened her mouth to speak and looked down. She was at a loss for words as she looked into the most beautiful brown eyes she'd ever seen. He was gorgeous.

He had dark curly brown hair, thrown into a low bun. A t-shirt underneath his apron that made his arms look defined. She read his name tag, Eddie. She tasted the name on her tongue as she stared at him like he was God himself.

"I uh, I don't even know." she laughed, looking back up at the menu

"Hot or cold, girl?" Eddie asked, a twinkle in his eyes as he smiled.

"Cold," she answered

"I'll surprise you," he said as he punched in something on the register.

She smiled and walked off to the pickup counter. She couldn't help but sneak a look at him as he moved around and made the drink. She felt her cheeks heat up when he caught her. He'd smile to the floor and look back to the drink.

"Here you are," he smiled as he placed the drink on the counter. She thanked him and grabbed the drink. She walked out and got in her car.

She went to take a sip when she noticed ink on the cup

She smiled as she read his handwriting with his number below it.

And ever since then, they've been together. She called him and they went on a date. They instantly connected and the attraction was strong. The age difference didn't bother either of them. She was mature and so was he. She enjoyed their dates at his apartment. She loved it when she got to spend the night with him instead of her small dorm.

Eddie wishes he felt their relationship was as strong as she did. He couldn't help but feel like he needed to always prove himself. He felt insecure compared to all the guys he saw on her campus. Their muscular bodies as they threw footballs and ran on the fields. He met a few of her guy friends and felt intimated by a few. It was easy to tell they were interested in her. But he knew she'd never go for them or hurt Eddie in any type of way. He didn't trust the boys. No one ever trusts young guys, especially college boys.

~~~

"Thank you for dropping me off," Y/N said, she leaned over her seat and pressed her lips against Eddie's lips.

He smiled into the kiss and kissed her back. He couldn't help but deepen the kiss and move his tongue against hers. She felt her head spinning as he pulled away.

"My pleasure," he teased, loving the lost look on her face as she floated down to reality. "Better go, Lexi is waiting."

"Right!" Y/N said as she snapped out of her daydream. The taste of Eddie was still on her tongue as she got out of the car. She waved goodbye as she walked over to Lexi. Eddie drove off with a honk.

"I wish I had an older boyfriend to eat my face off in the parking lot," Lexi groaned, with a teasing smile.

"He's the best isn't he?" Y/N gushed

"He's yummy," Lexi giggled

"Who is?" Tommy asked as he slid in next to Y/N. The three walked into the building.

"Eddie," Y/N said. Tommy was a good friend of hers so he knew all about Eddie.

"Oh cool, Well tonight is the big game. Can I count on you to be my cheerleader?" Tommy flirted. Lexi rolled her eyes at his comment but didn't say anything.

"Of course. Eddie and I will be front row." Y/N smiled

Tommy felt his smile drop at the sound of Eddie's name once again. But he shook it off.

"Are you coming to the after-party? We are pretty sure we are going to win." Tommy said, "But it's just for the students."

"I'm not sure, parties aren't really my thing. And not sure if I'll feel comfortable going alone without Eds" Y/N shrugged, plus she wanted to spend the night with Eddie.

"I'll take care of you, and be next to you the whole time." Tommy offered.

"But then you can't enjoy the party," Y/N said confused, the three made it into class

"You are all I need to have a good time," Tommy smiled.

"I'll think about it." Y/N smiled, they repeated as they took their seats.

Tommy sat next to his friend Luke with a smirk

"I'd wipe that smirk off. No way she's coming." Luke laughed

"Why not?" Tommy asked, his smirk dropping

"It's only students. And no way she's gonna ditch her boyfriend for you."

"We'll see,"

~~~

Eddie leaned against the fence as he waited for Y/N. He looked at the group of students and the players on the field. He wasn't big on football but he'd go anywhere she asked him to.

"...Y/N's here."

Eddie's ears perked at the sound of his girlfriend's name. He looked on the field, where the sound came from.

He noticed Tommy with his helmet in his hands as he stood in his jersey. He rolled his eyes, he wasn't surprised he was focused on his girlfriend. Tommy was the main guy Eddie worried about.

"Here, babe," Y/N said as she handed Eddie his pretzel. Her other hand holding a drink. Eddie looked back at her with a smile, he could feel Tommy's eyes burning into them.

Feeling a bit jealous, Eddie threw his arm over her shoulder and walked to their seats on the bleachers.

Throughout the whole game, Tommy's eyes kept looking at her.

After he scored a touchdown, he winked right at her as she cheered. Granted, she's cheering for a friend but he thinks she's cheering as a crush. Eddie was older and wasn't going to dabble in games. But he wanted to snap that bitch in half.

"You seem tense. You okay?" Y/N asked, her hand landed on Eddie's knee. The game in the background as she focused on him.

Eddie smiled and nodded. He felt at ease whenever she looked at him. The crowd cheered and they both looked to see what they missed.

Tommy growled as she missed his touchdown, too locked on Eddie.

~~~

Eddie was closing the Cafe, sweeping underneath the tables as he waited for the remaining customers to leave.

He whistled a song as he walked and swept. He almost felt like he was crazy when he heard his girlfriend's name. He stopped whistling and looked up. But he didn't recognize any of them.

Must be from school?

"dude, you can't ask Y/N out. Tommy has tried a thousand times."

Eddie felt a twisting in his gut as he walked closer.

"Yeah, but that's Tommy. I'm better than him in every way possible." The random blonde said. Which made Eddie want to laugh. Y/N was obsessed with Eddie's dark curls.

"Being better than Tommy isn't what you have to worry about." The other boy snickered.

"What that old boyfriend of hers? One night with me between those legs, she'd have him out of her head."

Eddie's growl slipped and the boys looked at him. "We're closed. Time to go." He snapped.

"Chill dude. We'll go." The blonde said, the boys slipped out of the small booth and walked out the door.

Eddie felt anger pumping through his veins. Eddie looked up when the door jingled. His anger turned to lust as Y/N walked in.

Her long legs were in her shorts, the way she looked flawless in his band T-shirt. Sunglasses pulling back her hair as she smiled at him.

"Missed you, handsome." She said as she slid her arms around his neck. He dropped the broom and immediately shoved his lips on hers.

She was taken aback by the passion and desperation in his kiss. It turned her knees weak. She whimpered against his lips as he pushed his lips so hard into hers that her back was forced to arch.

His tongue was gentle and warm in her mouth. She felt like he wanted to be gentle but craved to tear her apart with his tongue and teeth. He was mature and practiced in the way he knew how to handle her body. His muscular arms held the weight of her body and his kiss held the weight of her heart.

"Fuck, wow," she gasped as Eddie pulled away.

"Remember that office in the back I showed you?" Eddie panted.

Y/N was lost for words as she panted, and nodded.

"I want you to strip down, nice and naked for me," his hand wrapped around her neck, "then sit on that desk, spread these legs open, and drip all down the desk until I come in there. Got it?"

Y/N shivered at his words as the image was painted in her head. She whimpered and nodded. He let go of her neck, his dark eyes watching her. She started to walk off, jumping as he landed a smack on her ass.

Eddie waited a few seconds, just to give her time to follow his demands.

Eddie slowly walked to the office, stripping down. He removed his apron, then his shirt, and his shoes. By the time he made it to the room, he was left in nothing but his boxers.

A big smirk on his face as she sat on the desk, her legs spread wide open, and her glistening pussy shined for his eyes. He could feel his cock suffocating in his boxers as he licked his lips. He walked towards her, and she shook as his eyes never moved from her cunt.

"Gonna cum just from the way you are looking at me." She moaned, Eddie chucked darkly as her cunt clenched.

"Oh, I bet. See you pulsing from here, pretty thing." He smirked. She wasn't sure what got into him but she wasn't going to distract him now.

"Gonna be a good girl and let me do whatever I want with you?" He asked, he yanked her hair so her chin was shot into the air.

"Fuck yes."

"Try again" he warned

"Yes, sir. Best girl for you." She moaned. Apparently, she said the right thing because Eddie sunk his three fingers inside her soaked cunt. Her walls instantly clamped around his long fingers as she shook.

Everything felt like it was buzzing. His hand yanks her hair and his fingers knuckle deep inside of her. She clawed at his bare chest as she was gasping for air. He loved watching her. The way her naked body shook, the sweat building on her sweet skin. How she bit so hard on her lip that blood began to leak, yet did nothing to stop the screams from leaving her lips.

"Loud girl today, huh?" He teased

He stared at her neck as a trail of sweat traveled down. His cock twitched at the idea in his head, and he leaned forward. His eyes stared straight into her heavy ones as he stuck out his tongue and licked up the traveling sweat.

She swore he was going to ruin her

She clamped around him as she felt herself getting close. The ecstasy burned in her stomach. He removed his hand from her hair, now moving his attention to her clit.

She let her body drop, going slump against his. He let his body catch hers as he circled her clit as fast as he could.

She tried to speak but couldn't get anything out. Her eyes asked and he answered. She let herself cum all over his fingers. He worked her through it, fingering her softly as she began to shake.

"Amazing job, sweet girl." He praised. She smiled at the compliment. Still barely awake as she panted.

"You take my breath away, Jesus fuck." She laughed, Eddie held her tired body and kissed her forehead.

"I know I pulled a big one out of you, think you can give me one more? Maybe on my tongue?" He asked. And how could she say no to that?

She didn't say anything, just pushed his head down. He laughed but easily let himself be pushed down to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her until his fingers were gripping into her ass.

She let out a gasp as he yanked her to the edge of the desk, his mouth immediately on her cunt.

She felt her jaw pop open and silent screams left her throat as Eddie slurped her up like a dog with a bowl.

She was embarrassed by how much sound came from her wetness.

But the sound seemed to edge Eddie more and more.

She felt his tongue everywhere. Inside of her, up and down, side to side. Then outside of her, sucking and biting.

She swore she could feel him writing his name with his tongue against her clit.

That same feeling was building and building until... He stopped.

She didn't have time to whine when he slammed his cock inside of her. It was so fast that she didn't see him take his boxers off.

He pounded into her like he wanted to bruise the shape of him inside of her.

He wasn't jealous, just simply making sure her brain was so fucked out that she couldn't form a possible thought that wasn't him.

The desk squeaked beneath them as he fucked himself inside of her. He was so lost inside of her, that he didn't bother to care about the cameras recording their every move. Hell, he wanted a tape of it just so he could send it to all those college boys who think they have a shot.

Eddie may not have a college degree or scholarship in football. But he owned her pussy and knew just how to fuck it.

She swore she had nothing left in her body to give him, but she wanted to give him it all. He felt amazing inside of her. The way his tip perfectly hit that sweet spot inside of her made her legs shake.

His fingers were back on her clit, she whimpered as he rolled her sensitive clit between his finger and thumb. Then whined louder when he pinched it, pushing down on her clit and pulling. His eyes watched as it snapped back into its perfect shape. Then he softly began to rub circles.

She lost her vision, eyes closed as her body felt everything. She never forgot the way Eddie fucked her, but this was definitely something she'd think about in her dorm. When she's alone at night and fucking herself. Moaning his name as she coated her toys in her sticky cum.

The harder she breathed, the faster Eddie rubbed her clit. His cock pushed inside of her, her pussy happily sucking him in. She was jealous of anyone he practiced with over his years, but she was damn pleased with the results.

She clawed at his chest again and he knew what it meant. He slid his left hand into hers, lacing their fingers intertwined. Then his right hand slid up her jaw, cupping it as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

They kissed passionately. The feeling of love somehow gained a taste as they passed it back and forth.

She came all over him as he filled her.

"I love you," she whined as she pulled back. That was exactly what Eddie needed to hear.

"I love you," he smiled, softly kissing her lips again as he slowly slid out of her. Their hands were still laced together.

"What was all that?" She asked, a glimmer in her eye.

"Just wanted to show I loved you," Eddie shrugged

"Goal achieved," she winked.

He chuckled and kissed her softly.

He had nothing to worry about, she was locked in on him and that's all he wanted.

~~~

"Thank you for dropping me off," she said as she leaned over and kissed Eddie's lips.

He kissed her back, making sure to nibble a little on her bottom lip.

She shook, still sensitive from the night before.

"Always my pleasure," Eddie smirked.

He watched as she got out of the car. Lexi waited for her as she waved to Eddie.

Y/N took a deep breath and began to walk to her, noticeably limping.

Eddie felt the smirk get bigger on his face

Lexi gasped as she looked between the embarrassed look on Y/N's face and the cocky look on Eddie's.

"Don't say a thing," Y/N warned as she made it to Lexi.

"About what?" Tommy asked as he walked up.

Eddie's prayers were answered when the blonde kid showed up as well. Eddie watched from his car in amusement, no rush to pull away.

"Y/N totally got laid last night. Poor girl can't even walk." Lexi bragged for her, and an impressed look sent Eddie's way.

Eddie enjoyed the way Tommy and the random kid grew annoyed.

Y/N covered her face in her hands embarrassed. The boys looked behind her to Eddie's car.

He smirked as he lifted his hand and flipped them off.

Eddie's girl doesn't fuck around with college boys

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thornsnvultures · 11 months

Text

everything I want...

bucky barnes x plus size!avenger!reader

summary: being sent on a mission with bucky should be a piece of cake, but he's been acting strange around you for weeks now and you have no clue why.

cw: SMUT, fingering, oral sex (fem rec), shower sex, p in v sex (unprotected), creampie, breath play, breeding kink, pregnancy/lactation kink (very little), possessive pervy bucky (he gets a bit feral in this one), solo masturbation mention (m), steve rogers meddling being a great wingman, angst with a happy ending, 4.4k words

a/n: my entry for the lovely @nickfowlerrr 's seven deadly sins event 🖤 Lust is the sin I chose for this fic and really it was an excuse to write filth lol I really hope you enjoy it! (and a quick thanks to everyone who encouraged me to keep going, this fic wouldn't be here without you)

18+ MINORS DNI

-----

"You'll be with Barnes for this mission. Get in, get out, no big deal. We've done this before and it doesn't look like it'll be much of a problem."

Steve smiles politely at you as he hands you the briefing folder with all the info on where you'll be going and why.

"If it's so easy why doesn't Barnes go alone?"

You regret opening your mouth as soon as the words come out, choosing to bite your lip and open the folder instead of looking at Steve's patented Look of Disapproval.

"Be ready and on the jet in two hours," Steve sighs.

"Yes, Captain."

Steve marches out of the room, always moving like a man on a mission even when he's not on one. No, this one's just you and Bucky. The man who's been avoiding you like the plague the last few weeks. Someone who you thought was at least a friendly acquaintance, a close colleague maybe.

He went from joking with you on the jet and bringing you coffee when he got one for himself from the canteen, to not even looking at you. Like even daring to lift his head when you walked by would get him booted from the team and sent back to Hydra.

You wouldn't say the two of you were close, but being a part of this team, working with these people; it was hard making friends with people who didn't understand, who didn't live on the compound. Sure there were SHIELD agents you saw here and there at the gym or around medical or the offices. But you saw Bucky damn near every day since you joined the team. And now out of the blue he was pretending like you didn't exist.

It didn't help that you had a not so teeny tiny crush on the man either.

Maybe this mission was a peace offering, Steve's way of getting the two of you to rebuild, reconnect. For the betterment of the team...or whatever. The sooner you got it done, the sooner you could get home and get away; from Bucky and from your own hurt feelings.

-----

Steve was right, the mission didn't take long at all. You were able to get in and get out with the information you needed with little to no fuss. Barnes was the perfect partner to watch your six with the way he was avoiding you and it totally didn't bother you that he hadn't said a word to you outside of what was strictly necessary. Totally.

When you got back to the hotel, Bucky got on the phone with Steve right away, still avoiding. He did need to call Steve to debrief, but he wasn't even saying much, just standing there with the phone to his ear, grunting every now and then.

Frustrated, you sat on the edge of the bed and pulled of your boots. Bucky was facing the window, looking over the city. The hotel room was modest, but modest for Tony Stark's standards was still luxurious and you wanted to take advantage of the shower that was practically the size of your bedroom back home before you guys left. You weren't waiting for Bucky to shower first.

"I'm taking a shower," you called out. Bucky made a noise but didn't turn around. His back muscles shifted against the tight black tshirt he wore when he shrugged at something Steve must've said over the phone. You couldn't hear what they were discussing but you could sense Bucky's tension from across the room. From the way he looked you'd think the mission was a failure, that he was reporting back with terrible news even though you know everything went well. Your fingers itched to rub soothing circles over his back, ease some of that tension away...

Shower, think of the shower. He doesn't deserve it.

Once you figured out which knobs controlled which of the four differently angled shower heads, you hopped in. Your clothes lay discarded on the sink as steam filled the room. It was heavenly. You'd have to ask Tony about installing a system like this in your apartment.

As you soaped up with the hotel body wash, your mind started to wander to the same person it always seemed to these days.

Part of why Bucky's sudden rejection was so painful was how much you'd grown to care about him. It felt silly, having a crush like this at your grown ass age, but that's what it was. Your stomach fluttering, your heart racing. You hoped he didn't know just how much he affected you every time he brought you coffee or talked to you or sat near you in a meeting.

Maybe that's why he's been avoiding you, maybe he caught on and...he doesn't feel the same way. Maybe he's trying to put distance between the two of you so you'd get the hint.

God, how embarrassing. You stand there with your hands on your chest, over your breaking heart, and try to hold it together instead of blabbering like a baby.

Of course he doesn't want you. He's a super soldier, practically a God. And he's been through so much. He's not the type to want a...girlfriend right now, especially someone on the team.

Suds drip from your breasts as you try to finish your shower, bending over to scrub your feet while you try not to cry. It's silly, silly and stupid. But you were hoping that even if he didn't like you that way, that you wouldn't lose a friend too.

The thought of him never speaking to you again makes a tear finally fight its way free and you choke out a sob as it falls down your cheek. You hope the pounding water is enough to mask your choking sobs but who knows. Your emotions are all over the place. You can't seem to stop crying and you're angry. Angry at Steve for putting you on this mission, angry at your tears and angry that Bucky might be totally lost to you.

-----

Bucky can smell you.

He stands by the hotel window, holding the bridge of his nose like that'll make it stop. It never does. You're always there, invading his senses. Not just your body wash or the shampoo you use, or the heavy floral stuff the hotel has stocked up in the bathroom. He's trying not to imagine you using the individually wrapped bars of soap to lather yourself up not twenty feet away from him, but just like his hand on his nose, nothing helps.

No, even under all the artificial stuff, it's you that drives his senses wild. Something encoded in your goddamn DNA that fries his brain.

It took him a while to figure out what it was that made it hard to be around you. He could ignore it at first, when you first joined the team. He was still fresh himself, finally coming back to be a do-gooder with Steve and the team after talking time to heal and scrape away what was left of Hydra's programming. There wasn't time to acknowledge the way his dick twitched every time you entered the room. It wasn't appropriate. And Steve would kick his ass for chatting up the newcomer anyway.

But as the weeks and months drew on, as he found himself getting more comfortable, more used to a routine that always seemed to revolve around you, he couldn't ignore it.

He felt like a dog in heat. Most of the time he could manage it, but there were days out of every month where he'd scramble for the nearest bathroom, broom closet, empty meeting room, anything after being with you for even five minutes so he could relieve himself. Biting his lip until he bled to keep from cursing your name as he worked his fist over his cock until there was nothing left.

It was maddening, the shift in your scent. He craved you constantly, but those times when his needs couldn't be ignored he felt out of control. Like he was a snap of your fingers away from becoming him again.

It wasn't until you left your phone unattended in the compound gym that things started to make sense.

You had been chatting on the treadmill with a SHIELD agent. Bucky pretended to be focused on his workout while he listened in to your conversation. Your agent friend was talking about her and her partner trying for a baby so you recommended a period tracker app that you had been using for a while.

"It's great! After you've been using it for a few months it can predict when you'll be ovulating for max baby making potential."

Your friend laughed at the saucy tone in your voice, Bucky nearly dropped the massive dumbell he was curling on his foot. Images of you, breasts heavy and leaking, swollen and pregnant with his child was all he could see. And fuck him, he wanted it, needed it, craved it.

So when your friend was gone and you hopped off the treadmill momentarily in search of your water bottle, leaving your phone behind, Bucky took his chance to sneak a quick look.

It was all right there. He remembers the last day he could smell you so strongly he could barely stand it. He almost got caught in the gym showers, slamming a crack into the tile wall when he came so hard his vision went black with the scent of you burned in his brain. He didn't see you for two days after that but when he did there was a coppery edge to your scent. And the app on your phone proved it.

You were ovulating. Your body was practically screaming for him, demanding that he do what he was made to do and breed your sweet cunt. His need to rut into you, to bury himself deep and pump you full of his cum over and over, no matter how long it took until it sticks, finally made sense.

Bucky already knew he cared for you, but he didn't want to scare you, overwhelm you. He wanted to do right by you, take you on dates, show you how special you are to him. But this feral need to claim you wasn't stopping any time soon either. Maybe, he thought, he should give you some space. Give whatever this feeling was done distance and it would calm down. Then...then he could tell you how he felt. He needed to clear your scent from his mind before he was trapped in a constant state of relieving himself by his own hand month after month, wasting what belonged to you in tissues and shower drains.

-----

So he stayed away, for an entire month at that, before Steve got sick of his shit excuses and put the two of you on this mission together.

"Whatever's going on with you two, you need to work it out. We're not in forth grade any more, Buck, you can't pretend a girl has cooties just cause you feel weird about liking her."

Bucky tensed as he heard her boots fall to the floor behind him.

"I don't-"

"Don't bullshit me, Bucky."

"Language," Bucky's lip quirked, almost a smile.

"I'm taking a shower," you called from the other side of the room. Bucky grunted, not trusting himself to say anything more. He could feel your eyes on him.

"Just talk to her. I know what you're gonna say, she deserves better than a jerk like you. But she doesn't deserve the cold shoulder."

Bucky shrugged, forgetting that Steve couldn't see him. He heard the bathroom door click shut and his forehead dropped against the window.

"You don't get it, Steve. She's different. I can't control myself around her. I'm hanging on by a thread here."

Steve sighs and says something else but Bucky barely hears it over the sound of running water and your clothes hitting the floor.

"Bucky, you there?"

Shit.

"Sorry, I should...I gotta go."

"She likes you too, idiot." A part of him knew but hearing it out loud felt surreal. "I got the same senses you do. Better even," Bucky shakes his head at Steve's teasing, "I can hear her pulse pick up when she looks at you, how her breathing changes. How she sits close to you, touches you whenever she can."

Bucky shivers thinking of your hands on him, pulling him into your shower with you, letting him get close enough to touch you the way he's dying to touch you.

"And you know I can smell how wet she gets when y-"

"Watch it, Rogers," Bucky snaps with a growl in his throat.

"Then get your shit together, Barnes! She wants you too, you're not gonna scare her off."

Bucky wants to tell Steve he doesn't have any idea what he's talking about when he hears what sounds like crying coming from the bathroom.

"Alright, if you're done playing matchmaker I gotta go."

Bucky hangs up before Steve can say another word and tosses his phone on the bed. Before he can think better of it his boots are off and he's pulling his shirt up and over his head. His heart is being torn to shreds with every sob that shudders through thin walls and he has the sinking feeling that it's all his fault.

-----

You don't hear the bathroom door open, but you feel the rush of cool air hitting your back. Before you can wipe away your tears and yell at Bucky for coming in before you were finished, he's right there. His hands grip your waist and turn you around.

"Bucky.

"Shh, I've got you."

He pulls you in, crushing you to his bare chest in a fierce hug. You don't know what's happening or why but he's here. Finally he's here and you're not gonna do a thing to stop it.

Your face is still wet with tears when he kisses you, consumes you, more like. His lips, teeth, tongue invading your mouth and begging you to open up and let him take all of you. You're shaking when he lets you go long enough to breathe, but his hands don't let you go, only wrapping around tighter and lifting you up against his broad chest when he feels your legs go weak.

It's everything you've every dreamed of, there's no way it's real. He's naked for fuck's sake. You can see his discarded jeans on the floor by the door, feel the evidence of his nudity pressing long and thick against your thigh.

His lips work down the length of your neck, down your chest, to suck a puckered, soapy nipple into his mouth. He's looking up at you with those murky blue eyes and your mind goes blank. You don't care why he chose now of all times to see you, to touch you, as long as he doesn't stop, as long as he keeps sucking and licking and biting you just like that. And you really must've hit your head because, fuck, you're already this close to coming and that's never happened before.

Your thighs press together, searching for any kind of friction, as you tug on Bucky's hair. When you pull, his eyes roll back. He groans, the noise shooting straight to your pussy.

Still holding you up with one hand, Bucky bullies your thighs apart with the other, spreading you open and on your tip toes so he can slide his fingers over your cunt. Two thick digits slip between your folds and shove into your cunt. You gasp, writhing around his fingers. It's too much, you feel so fucking full you can barely stand it. But Bucky keeps working his fingers, scissoring them, spreading them deep as he pumps them in and out. Your nails scrape against his skin, scrambling across his broad shoulders to find purchase as he brings you careening fast over the edge until you're plummeting, screaming his name as you spasm around his fingers.

He pulls his fingers away and you watch, dazed and panting as he sucks them clean. The way he moans around his fingers nearly has you coming again.

"Bucky, please," you don't know what you're asking for but you don't care. You'll gladly take anything he gives you.

"Need more," he groans, his eyes glazed. "Can I have more, angel?"

You're nodding wildly as he sits you down on the shower bench. Hot water rains down on his back and he's lifting your feet up on the bench so he can keep you spread wide open. His big hands clamp down on your thighs and it would be almost painful if you weren't distracted by the way his mouth latched onto your clit.

"Fuck! Bucky, oh my god," there wasn't any stopping your rambling, begging, pleading. It was too much, too good. Bucky's moans vibrated to your core. He feasted on you like you were his last meal, licking every drop of your juices, sucking each fold before fucking into you with his tongue.

You could think, talk, breathe. All you knew was Bucky's touch as he made you come again. Your legs shook and your back arched and it went on for what felt like forever, this mind blowing pleasure that you almost didn't feel worthy of. That he looked up at you as he cleaned you up with his tongue like you were everything to him in this moment made your eyes well up again for being so emotional.

A look of worry wrinkles Bucky's brow.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

With a shaky hand you brushed back an errant hair from his forehead and caressed his cheek. "No, I'm fine. Sorry, I just get emotional like this before, y'know..." You didn't want say it, especially not to a guy you liked right after he ate you out. It was hard to look at him still sitting there between your legs, your face feeling hotter by the second.

"You mean before your period?"

You sputtered and tried to close your legs. No way, there's no way you're talking about your period with your dream man with your legs spread open like he's your gyno.

"Don't hide from me," Bucky growled. You watched, your jaw dropping, as he nuzzled his nose into your mound at the apex of your sex and breathed in deep, filling his lungs with your scent.

"How did you know?"

"Your phone, you left it open at the gym." Bucky doesn't stop kissing your mound, your belly. It's like he's a cat and you're the catnip. "And I can smell it on you. Your scent changes, gets...deeper somehow. Like you're calling to me."

Suddenly he's lifting you up and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist with a shout of surprise. Bucky grabs one of the giant hotel towels on his way out of the bathroom, carrying you like it's nothing. It is for him, but it's jarring. You always forget that he's not just some guy. Like the fact that his enhanced senses don't just include hearing and sight. Of fucking course he can scent you like a bloodhound.

Bucky lays out the big, fluffy towel and drops you on it, watching with hunger in his eyes as you jiggle when your body bounces on the mattress. You want to cover yourself with your arms and squeeze your legs shut, but you hear his voice in your head.

"Don't hide from me."

Bucky crawls on top of you, his thick arms and broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room. It's just him and you and this bed. And between you his cock pushes thick and needy against your weeping cunt. His hips twitch as he kisses you, lightly rubbing the thick vein running down his cock through your folds.

"Please, Bucky," you whine against his lips.

His forehead rests against yours briefly before he sits back on his heels. Bucky's heavy-lidded gaze is hungry, staring at the way your cream coats his cock.

"Please don't tease me, Bucky," your plea comes out shaky and unsure. "I can't take it."

Bucky caresses your cheek, tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb.

"If you let me in, I don't think I'll ever leave."

Your brows pinch, your heart hammers away in your throat. You get the feeling he doesn't just mean in the physical sense.

"I don't want you to leave."

Bucky's eyes shut and his jaw clenches and you reach for him. To take his face in your hands so you can pull him close and look into those beautiful blue eyes when he finally thrusts inside. And he lets you.

You hold him in your hands as his whole body shakes. You've never felt so full, so complete, but you need more. If only he'd move, you need him to move.

"Bucky-"

The growl that explodes from deep in Bucky's chest is the only warning you get before he pulls back, nearly all the way out, and slams back in. The force of it shoves the air from your lungs and you can scarcely catch your breath before he does it again and again, picking up pace until he's hammering into you, pounding you into the mattress. His groin grinds against your pelvis with every deep thrust, the thatch of hair there teasing your clit.

Bucky takes you by the throat, tenderly at first, saying, "Look at me. Don't look away, beautiful, keep those eyes open."

It's a struggle but those blue eyes ground you as your mind tries to float away. You don't know what sounds you're making, what you're even saying but Bucky shushes you, tells you he's got you, you're his.

"My pussy. Mine to fill up, right, beautiful? All mine."

You nod your head as best you can with his fingers on your jaw, babbling nonsense. He doesn't slow or stop, that super-soldier stamina helping him keep a brutal pace.

Bucky grabs your right thigh, turning it over so it's on top of your left and holding it there with the hand not on your throat. Your eyes roll back at the way the new position has him grinding against your inner walls. You thought you felt full before, but this is something else entirely.

Your hands fly up to Bucky's forearm, desperate for a part of him to hold on to as he looms over you, taking what belongs to him. His hand on the meat of your thigh tightens as he grunts and groans and you grip at the hand on your throat, silently begging for his gentle hold to tighten too.

His eyes soften, as he shifts his hand and squeezes. This man could end you right here, right now, with a twitch of his finger but he's looking at you like you're delicate, so fucking delicate and it doesn't make any sense. Your brain is fried, everything feels like too much and just right at the same time. Like you're meant to be here under him, full of him, taking everything he gives you.

"God, you're so beautiful."

Your legs shake under his grip and you feel yourself implode. His words ricochet around your head as you come, coating his cock, and the sheets, with your release.

Bucky's grip on your throat loosens and he collapses on top of you, capturing your lips with his, cradling his arms around you. His full weight on top of your twisted, bent body is a welcome pressure. You never want him to leave.

"Mine," he growls again. "Gotta fill you up, breed this sweet little cunt so everyone knows you're mine. I can't hold back anymore. Say it. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours, Bucky," you cry, "all yours. Only yours."

Bucky lifts your right leg up over his shoulder, spreading you wide open. He brings his thick fingers down on your messy cunt with a wet slap and you cry out, shaking as you come again.

"That's it, beautiful. Milk me fucking dry."

Bucky's hips stutter and go still and he shouts, spilling inside you, filling you to the brim.

Bucky lets your leg fall from his shoulder and collapses on top of you. Before he can suffocate you, not that you'd mind, he rolls the two of you onto your side and holds you tight to his chest. You can feel his release slipping out, oozing down your thigh. There's so much, you don't even want to think about the clean up. Not now, not when it's so much easier to think about how good it feels to be here, in his arms.

"You're mine," Bucky whispers into your hair, taking a heavy breath, filling his lungs with your scent.

"All yours," you smile, your cheek pressing against his solid chest.

"I mean it. Not just here, not just tonight. I want to make you mine, angel."

Bucky sounds so serious it almost worries you. You turn your head where it rests on his bicep, trying to not get distracted by how big it is. Those blue eyes of his are soft but searching your face, like he needs you to understand, to know that he means it.

"I want that, Bucky. I want it so bad."

Your voice is quiet but you know he can hear you loud and clear, can hear the desperation in his voice mirrored back in yours.

His big hands roam your body, caressing your breast, your hips, like he wants to touch you everywhere all at once. You help him settle on a place by lifting your leg and curling it over his hip. You can see it on Bucky's face, how much he needs you. The way your combined scents make his nostrils flare, the tightening of his jaw. His fingers leave your hip and delve between the juncture of your thighs, a groan rumbling through his chest.

"Bucky," you pant as his fingers play in the mess he made, slipping in and out of your cunt.

He kisses your forehead, continuing to work you open once again.

"Need to have you again, angel." Bucky doesn't wait for you to respond before he's guiding himself in til you're full to bursting. "Gotta keep you stuffed full, baby."

You shudder at his words, his hands roaming your body.

"I'm yours, Bucky. All yours."

---

🖤

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #my fics

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spiderlyla · 11 months

Text

Broken Mugs — Miguel O'Hara

🕸summery: miguel is tottally not jealous that all your attention is on the new intern

🕸warnings: mention of injury/blood. reader is fem.

🕸a.n: this was actually a req from my other blog @spider999sposts lol. hope anon likes it!

He shouldn't feel this way.

He shouldn't feel his chest tighten. He shouldn't feel his mind clouding. His claws shouldn't be digging this hard into his palm, leaving small scars on his skin. He shouldn't be staring at you this much either.

A yellow glow popped by his shoulder, hiding from sight of the other scientists. Under regular circumstances, he'd shoo her away before anyone could see her, but he was too fixated on keeping his eyes on you...and him. Why on earth would you even glance twice at his direction was his question. He'd been hired for two weeks now but Miguel never saw him getting any work down. He was just...around you. All the time. Making you laugh, touching your arm or shoulder here and there, glancing at your lips. You were as bright as ever, too nice, too friendly, but you were like that with everyone, that new intern shouldn't feel at all special.

"Boss, are you okay? Your blood pressure is going up." Miguel's claws dug deeper into his skin, while his other hand tightened around his coffee mug. The intern –whom he never really bothered to learn the name of– was showing you something under the microscope, his hand resting on your back as you leaned to look. You were laughing at some stupid thing he'd said.

"¿Qué está diciendo que la está haciendo reír tanto?" He rasped out, the burning coffee making its way down his throat. LYLA peeked from behind Miguel's ear, glancing at you. A smile crept on her face. "Oh, I get it. You're jealous."

Miguel's eyes flashed crimson, then returned to their normal brown. "I'm not jealous. That is a childish feeling, LYLA." He whispered. "I think it's a pretty grown feeling, actually." LYLA giggled. Miguel took another sip of his coffee, almost spitting all out when he saw him tuck a hair behind your ear while you spoke to him. You nervously laughed, taking a step back, but continued to talk. "He's distracting her from work." Miguel explained. He had no right to be jealous. He was not your boyfriend, nor were you dating. Sure, there were some glances here and there, occasional hand brushing, the fact that you always kept him company during lunch when everyone was too scared to sit with him, always brought him a snack when you were out to grab yourself one, but there was nothing exclusive. "She should be finishing up her research, for that promotion she wants so bad, he's a bad influence."

[What is he saying that is making her laugh so much?]

"Is he? I think he's helping her. They are at her station, you know? And that sample he showed her, she took notes after seeing it." Miguel scoffed, usually he liked being faced with the facts, but right now wasn't a good time. LYLA grinned at him, "It's okay if you're jealous, you know. You thought you had no competition—"

Miguel's grip around his mug tightened, ignoring the sound of cracking. "It's not a competition. It's not fair for him to compete with me." He grumbled, "Look at him, what does he have that I don't?"

"He's funny, probably."

"LYLA."

"Hey man, you asked."

"I don't know why she likes that damn intern so much," His eyes trailed on the two of you, and on the clock, by now you'd usually ask him if he'd like to join you for lunch break, but you were too occupied, of course you were, that trainee never shut up, did he? "He's scrawny, clumsy, and doesn't know what he's doing most of the time." LYLA popped on his other shoulder, resting on it. "Maybe she finds him cute."

"Oh, please." The mug cracked a little more, "She shouldn't be persuing an office romance. Its unprofessional. Besides persuing an office romance with an intern," He watched him look at the clock, and point at the door, he mouthed you something along the lines of 'do you want to get out of here?'

Miguel's blood boiled.

"...is stupid. And she isn't stupid, quite the opposite. She should be with someone with a stable income. Someone who will treat her good."

"Oh what, like you?"

A loud smash caught the attention of everyone in the lab. You finally looked up at him, your eyes widening at the sight. Miguel looked down, only realising what had happened after the sting of hot liquid dribbled down his arm. He'd smashed the mug he was holding into tiny little pieces, most shards stuck in his bloodied hand. The coffee he'd been drinking caused minor burns too.

"Miguel!" You brushed past the intern and ran over to him. LYLA was no where to be found, but he distinctively heard the sentence 'Thank me later.' being whispered into his ear. You stood infront of him, your face woven with worry. "Your hand, what happened?" You gently grabbed his wrist, inspecting his injuried hand closely. "The mug, had to be bad quality, broke from how hot the coffee is." He knew that didn't make a bit of sense, what a lame excuse from the 'world's greatest genius' as you called him, but he was just a man, and right now, all his focus was on how your skin felt against his, and how extremly close you were to his body.

And at how the intern looked really pissed off.

"Oh, you poor thing, that must've hurt." You pouted your pretty lips, looking at him with those beautiful eyes. "Yeah." Miguel shifted, his expression stoic but his reddening ears betrayed the facade he keeps up around you. "I'll get the first aid kit, I took a nursing class once—Or would you like me to take you to the—"

"You'll do a just fine, I'm sure."

You let go of his wrist to grab the first-aid kit quickly, and Miguel looks over to the intern, who was stomping out of the lab, grumbling under his breath.

He grinned. If this is all it took to get your attention back on him, he'd surely break alot more mugs now.

#spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #astv #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spider999sposts

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pedrithink · 1 year

Text

understand ✩ jude bellingham

request: can you do jude and the reader arguing during their vacation and she starts crying when they're at the beach but she doesn't want him to notice but he notices and starts apologizing

"I'm just telling you that I felt uncomfortable, that's all." You exasperate as you cross your arms. Is it so hard for Jude to understand your side?

He shakes his head impatiently. "And I'm telling you that no big deal happened."

"They were practically all over you, Jude. They were hitting on you and ignoring my existence." You roll your eyes to keep tears from escaping your eyes.

"And why does that matter? I'm with you, you know that." Jude runs his hands over his own face somewhat aggressively and, whispers. "There's no need to create a giant problem over a situation as silly as this."

"You seem to be schismatic about not understanding my side." You cross your arms. "The point is that they kept sending little papers with their instagram, sending drinks, and had the audacity to come to our table and talk to you while I stood there watching everything like an idiot." You swallow your tears and stare at him with glittering eyes. "And you did nothing."

"What did you want me to do? Please, love. They're just fans."

Jude's impatient voice only makes your heart tighter, and the moonlight, the sound of the breaking waves, and the sand invading your shoe do nothing to improve the situation.

Faced with this situation, you can only take a deep breath and hope that this is the dream and that you are not arguing while you are in such a paradisiacal place, hope that Jude understands 1% of what you are feeling right now.

"We traveled here to have fun on my vacation and look at the kind of ridiculous thing we're discussing in the middle of a party." He grimaces in dissatisfaction.

You don't have the guts to say anything else for the next 20-30 minutes and Jude much less.

You are surrounded by the noise of the party, the crashing waves and each other's pained, dissatisfied sighs.

Jude stood beside you, head down. In a way that he didn't need to face you for the moment. He knows that you need this moment of silence to think about everything you've said to each other in the few minutes you've come outside the party to talk.

But at no time does he dare leave your side. Whatever the fight may be, you don't leave each other's side without working it out.

It all started because of some women who didn't care that Jude was holding hands with you, that he was kissing you relentlessly and insatiably. They didn't care that he was with someone else and it bothered you because Jude wasn't able to say "Enough" to them, according to him, it was an unnecessary fight to buy.

You guys normally don't argue, you don't like it. You avoid it as much as possible and always respect each other's opinion and space, but this situation left you completely out of place and you tried to express this with the intention that Jude would understand your side.

Your eyes fill with tears when you hear Keshi's "Understand" playing in the background in the inner part of the party, the light touch of the music along with the sounds of the waves makes your heart squeeze because this is your song.

take you by the hand, you're the only one who understands.

Tears escape and you try to hide them as you bite down hard on your lower lip trying to keep the sobs from escaping your lips.

You don't want Jude to see you crying, but you can't stop more tears from flooding your face.

He is the person who understands you most in the whole world, so why does it seem that now you are not being understood?

Jude takes courage to look at you and is startled when he sees you crying. His heart shatters into a million pieces and the urge to pull you into a hug becomes immense, he can't resist and pulls you around your waist. "Hey, no. No, my love. I'm sorry, don't cry."

Jude's arms grab your waist and you try to avoid it, but you can't resist melting into his embrace either. "Please forgive me." He whispers as he strokes your hair. "I thought it was something silly, but now I can clearly see that you have been affected by it. Not knowing how to express myself properly is one of my biggest fucking flaws. I hate that about me."

Jude says the last sentence in a low way, he wanted to throw himself into the sea and disappear for a few minutes. He feels so ashamed for putting you through such a situation.

Jude's hands walk to your waist and pulls you back so that your eyes stick to his, he always liked to talk looking into your eyes. "Hurting your heart was the last thing I wanted in the world. Forgive me, my love."

"I know and understand that you didn't mean to, Jude. But, this lack of positioning hurts." You explain as you dry the trail of tears from your face. "It may be silly and insignificant to you, but it makes me insecure."

His eyes soften and you can even see a trail of tears forming on his edge. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just thought I was making the right choices, trying to avoid a fight or something, but clearly I wasn't. It hurt you and I promise that from now on I will review my attitudes."

His hands walk over to caress your back. "I value you so much, I really do, and I honestly don't know what my life would be without you. I know I let you down, and in the end, I feel like it hurt me more than it hurt you because I can't handle the idea that I hurt you. I love you too much.” He whispers. “I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

You hug Jude by the neck and give him a light kiss on his lips, you know that he didn't mean to hurt you and this conversation (not the fight) was even good for you to clarify some points and prevent more situations like this from happening again in the future.

Jude makes you feel complete.

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham #jude bellingham headcanons #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #bellingham x reader #football imagine #football one shot #football fanfic #football x reader

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jinhyun · 7 months

Note

hii, i was wondering if for the "what are we?" prompts if you could please do some sort of combination of "what do you want us to be?" and "i was hoping we could be more than just friends" with felix? that would be so awesome! thank you <3

“What are we?”

The way you said those words made Felix's heart ache. It was hardly a whisper, for your voice betrayed you and cracked as you stared down to the cold pavement.

This wasn't how either of you expected this night to go. It was supposed to be a fun time; a house party with loud music, lots of people and many drinks to intoxicate your system. You and him were supposed to have a blast and get rid of all the stress you had been feeling lately.

Instead, you found yourselves sitting down on the sidewalk after you had run out one second and he followed you the next one.

Felix sat in silence next to you, concernedly staring into your miserable expression as your eyes remained focused on the ground and wouldn't dare to look back at him — the only sign of you acknowledging his presence right next to you being how you hugged the jacket he had placed over your shoulders a minute ago.

He didn't exactly get what happened. He had been talking to a friend of his he ran into, and then he saw you rushedly crossing the front door. He ran after you before he could even process it, only to be even more confused when he found you sitting down on the sidewalk, looking as if your heart had just been broken.

Still, even with such a look on your face, the words that had so weakly abandoned your lips caught him completely off guard.

He didn't know if he had heard it right. He didn't know what you wanted him to answer, nor did he know what to answer without compromising your entire friendship, which is why he ended up uncomfortably shifting in his place and clearing his throat before his eyes fixed on the house across the road.

“What do you want us to be?” He replied, voice nearly as weak as yours.

“That's not fair” you recriminated.

“What's not fair?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I'm asking you what we are,” your eyes finally fixed on his, and he could see how hurt you actually were. “I want you to answer, not to leave me with the responsibility of choosing”.

“So I'm supposed to choose?” He asked; not mad, but troubled as hell. “I don't know what you want me to say, Y/N”.

“Just, whatever you want us to be”.

“I'm in the same place as you here” his voice trembled. “I don't think my feelings for you could be any stronger, but we're… you're my best friend. I love you so much, Y/N, I don't want us to… risk it all and then lose you, I don't know”.

A bittersweet smile curved up your lips. You knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. Neither of you had ever said it before, but you hadn't bothered to hide it either. Therefore, it didn't come out as much of a surprise when he confessed it like that.

Both of you were well aware of your mutual feelings, but neither of you dared to actually act up on them, in fear of it meaning to lose one another in the future. You were in love with each other dearly, but you treasured your friendship more.

Up until that night, at least, for things had just changed on your end.

“I love you, too” you confessed back, feeling him take a shaky breath. “And I used to think the same, that I didn't want to risk it all and then lose you”.

“Then?”

“Then…” you sighed, resting your palms on the pavement as you leaned back. “Then I saw the way Yumin looked at you, and how much you laughed with her and how happy you looked back then… and I realised that I was okay with not risking it all and being just friends til the end of times because it didn't cross my mind that at some point you'd be with someone else”.

“I'm not with Yumin,” he shut that idea of yours down immediately. “I just ran into her back there and we were catching up, we're not—”

“It doesn't matter,” you gave him another weak smile, as they seemed to be the only ones you had left. “You will fall for someone else at some point anyway, whether it's her or not, and I don't think I'll be able to just stand there and keep being your friend”.

“Y/N…”

“I really won't be able to stand it, Lix” your eyes watered. “The mere thought of you and her hurt like hell, what's it gonna be like when you actually do fall for someone else an—”

Your words were cut off by his mouth pressing lightly on yours. Just like that, the fate of your friendship had been settled.

It was the sweetest way you had ever been told to shut up, and you could only sit there and return the kiss after a couple of seconds, when you managed to snap out of it and realised you were in fact not dreaming.

It was delicate, soft, and didn't last long; only enough to stop you from talking nonsense and to let you know just how truly and deeply he felt for you.

“There isn't anyone else,” he whispered once he faintly pulled away. “There won't ever be someone else”.

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead on his and letting his breathing mix up with yours as you took in his words.

You loved him. He loved you. No matter how scared you were of a future without him if things didn't end up working out, you were sure that being so deeply in love with each other and not being together hurt just as much.

It almost seemed stupid not to give in to your feelings now.

“I think I want us to be more than friends…” you murmured, finally opening your eyes to meet his beaming chocolate ones.

Felix smiled, lightly nodding his head as he leaned in once more. “Good,” he pecked your lips. “Because I don't think I can keep myself from kissing you anymore”.

#i changed the second dialogue a bit i hope that's okay!!#skz #stray kids #felix #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #felix imagines #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #felix reactions #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #felix fanfic #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #felix scenarios

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moonchildstyles · 9 months

Text

s'entendre

élan part five: y/n's first night out since the gala couldn't be that bad. right?

wordcount: 14.4k+

—————

(Y/N) couldn't help the frown that landed on her face as she looked in the mirror.

While her time in Paris had been the best she'd had in a really long while, it wasn't necessarily showing. At this point, she'd missed three of her facial appointments, her skin beginning to cry out from the lack of treatment. Her nails were barely hanging on, her acrylics grown out past the point of comfort. While her mental state was beginning to grow to a wholly positive place, the rest of her wasn't really catching up.

To top it off, her makeup wasn't cooperating either. Maybe she should really get a glam squad like Harry thought—at least then she would have a chance at being on time for events with a fully formed face.

With Emma joining them in Paris for the weekend, Francesca had insisted they go out and visit the nightlife. Of course, the one night she knew there would no doubt be photos caught of her just from the way her friends were still very active on their social medias, would be when her makeup cooperates the least.

Letting out a rumbling groan, (Y/N) was that close to calling off the night as another smudge of mascara blobbed on the crease of her eye.

Like always, Harry popped his head inside her bedroom, a pinch in his brows appearing as he took in the otherwise safe room.

"What's the matter, hm?" he asked, stepping inside her room. His reflection was made in the mirror, a clear view of his eyes stitched on her as she gazed at him through the glass.

It was a bit petulant, her reaction, with the way she puffed out her bottom lip with a pout. "My skin doesn't look good, and my makeup is only making it worse." Before she could even finish her statement, Harry was shaking his head, lips thinning as if he was bored with the fact she couldn't see facts right in front of her. "Harry, really," she argued against his silent protest, "My makeup looks so weird, right now."

(Y/N) watched as he settled in behind her, his arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flittered over the mirror, ever-observant.

"You're very funny sometimes, you know that?"

That only strengthened the frown on her lips and pinch in her brow. "I'm not being funny right now."

Dropping his gaze, his features facing the floor, Harry shook his head again. Down the slope of his nose, she swore she saw the edges of an easy smile. Looking up, only traces of amusement lingered on his lips.

"That's what you think," he countered cryptically, "Let me know when you're ready."

With that, Harry popped out of her room as quickly as he joined her. Sweeping her eyes away from the doors he exited through, returning to the mirror set in her vanity, she took in the planes of her face.

Though she could still see texture and bumps, pores and blemishes, it didn't bother her so terribly for a moment. Even the sight of her outgrown nails with dull edges didn't pick at her nerves.

If Harry didn't think she looked silly, even after he witnessed the glamour she preferred in New York, then maybe it wasn't so bad.

Even if he didn't say he thought she looked pretty, he thought her complaints against her features were outlandish enough to laugh at.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like agonizing over her skin anymore. She looked just fine, she decided.

—————

"Tell me again how you're going to tell me if you're uncomfortable or want to leave."

Outside the windows at her back, the underground of Paris whirled past, the train moving quickly under the treasures on the surface. The car was on the quiet side for the night, the hour still early before others drunk on champagne would be stumbling through.

Looking up at Harry through the fan of her false lashes, she repeated the same thing he told her at least five times before leaving the penthouse: "If I can, I need to come and tell you right away. But, if I'm in a situation where I can't reach you, I'm going to look at you and nod three times."

That slow blooming smile touched the corner of his mouth, sot lips curling as he gazed down at her. "Perfect," he praised her, adjusting his hands from where they were curled around the rail on either side of her, "Jus' remember that for me, please. You're going to have a really fun night, I jus' want you to be safe."

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded pliantly, gaze dropping down to the slope of his neck, "I—um—I also don't want to drink a lot tonight."

"Okay," Harry answered cautiously, voice trailing off.

"I know that's not a rule or anything, but I just... I don't want to get too deep tonight or anything," she explained in a small voice. While she wanted to unwind and play with her friends, she wasn't interested in stumbling around or blabbing things to anyone willing to sit and listen. She hoped she wouldn't have to worry about any photographers, but that didn't mean some couldn't pop up and take pictures of her with glazed eyes to feed into the narrative being spun back in New York.

Understanding, Harry nodded his head, the green of his eyes softening as he allowed his gaze to slide across her features. "Okay," he said, "We can do that. I'll keep an eye on you, but if y'change your mind, that's okay, too. Whatever is going to make you happy tonight."

Overhead the feminine French voice blinked over the intercom, arrival times appearing on the small screen at the head of the car. Harry looked over his shoulder taking in the printed times. As much as she teased him, he really was making progress in understanding the language, enough so that he was readily taking on the details of the night and keeping track of her.

Allowing her eyes to skip over the line of his profile. Dressed low-key as usual, dark colors to help him sink into the background, the softer tones of his skin were left to jump out. The brown shades of his hair made way for sun-dappled blonde strands to make their way through, highlighting the swirling curls. His eyes were bright and clear, framed by dark curling lashes. His skin was creamy and warm, a gentle tan from the summer sun being highlighted from the dotted freckles on his nose and the rosy flush on his cheeks.

"Thank you," she blurted.

"Hm?" Harry hummed, turning to face her once more, brows raised.

(Y/N) felt her skin heat as she processed her action. She hadn't meant to say anything.

"Thank you," she repeated, "For doing all of this. Helping."

"It's m'job," he answered simply.

That was a fact (Y/N) couldn't forget, that thin veil between being a constant barrier. "I know, but," she swallowed, feeling a bit silly now knowing that he noticed that line just as much as she did, "It's just a nice feeling—like you care, and all."

The contact he made with her gaze was easy and open, unwavering. "It's because I do care."

Just then, as convenient as ever, their arrival was announced. The train slowed to a stop, passengers readying to exit the car.

Letting go of the rail, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon," he murmured, keeping her close as he guided them into the fray of the moving passengers.

(Y/N) followed absently wherever he needed, her heels hitting the ground in quiet clicks. She wasn't sure what the squeeze in her lungs and stuttering in her chest meant, but feeling Harry at her side made it that much more prevalent.

—————

Looking ahead, (Y/N) spotted the line leading up to Francesca's club of choice for the night. Waiting patrons were roping around the sidewalk, chattering with cigarettes in hand, impatient at the wait time. Even from where they were, out on the sidewalk leading up to the bouncing building, pumping music could be heard. (She's ninety-eight percent sure it was a Dua Lipa song, but she couldn't hear it exactly).

Harnessed in neon pink tubes was the name of the club: Rêve.

At her side, Harry ignored the end of the line, taking her to the front just as Fran had instructed.

A burly bouncer sized them up, already doubting them after they cut the wait. (Y/N) offered her tabloid bunny smile, Harry the structured pillar at her side.

"Salut! Nous sommes ici pour rencontrer des amis sur un stand VIP, l'un d'entre eux ayant réservé pour la nuit," she chattered, keeping her eye contact with the bouncer.

The bouncer didn't look entirely impressed as he listened. His gaze inched from hers to land on Harry. "Nom?"

"Francesca Polair—nous sommes deux de ses invités."

The bouncer's eyes tripped down her form, taking in her shimmery dress and lengths of skin on display. "Pièce d'identité?"

While she reached for her small bag with her ID inside, the bouncer unclipped a small tablet that was hung from his belt. Handing over her passport, she watched as he squinted at the American identification. Nonetheless, her name inevitably matched that of what was on Fran's guest list.

"Vous êtes prêt à entrer. Est-il avec toi?" He asked, eyeing up Harry at her side.

"Oui, cela devrait également figurer sur la liste. Harry Styles."

This time the bouncer didn't properly look at the tablet, instead, taking her word for it though he still shot Harry a suspicious look with the way he lingered at her side.

Holding open the door, he nodding at (Y/N) to push past. "Les tribunes sont au fond, derrière la piste de danse."

"Merci," she murmured, stepping past him with Harry just a step behind.

Inside, the bass of the music that could be heard outside was that much louder, lyrics in French that were too loud for her to focus on enough to translate in her head. The space was dark, leaving only strobing beams of multicolored lights to throb through the club, the only stable beacons being that of the bars lining some of the walls.

Concentrations of people were found on the dance floor and the bars, leaving walkways in between to travel through. Staff and bottleservice workers traipsed through, fluorescent drinks with herbs perched on the rims were stationed on trays next to full bottles of sparkling liquor and beers that probably had no business being as expensive as they were.

The VIP section was a straight shot down to the back, easy to spot given the second bouncer manning the entrance and the stream of bottle service staff making their way there. Harry reminded her of his presence with a hand hovering on the small of her back, over the glittering fabric of her dress.

"Alright?" he asked, dipping down close to her ear in order for her to hear.

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head with stray baby hairs tickling the borders of her face, "We just need to get back there to Fran and Emma."

Harry followed her line of sight towards the booths lining the back. In that way he always did, a reflex that had to have come from years in his line of work, he took inventory of the path to the back, noting the bodies in the way and the easiest route back.

"Okay," he murmured, looking determined when he positioned himself in front of her with his fingers looping around her wrist.

He took the lead then, ensuring her path was clear as she stepped behind him. She couldn't hear if he was speaking over the sound of the music, but she wondered if he was muttering something to those around them that had them parting, no one able to even brush against her as she slipped through the crowd. She could feel eyes landing on her back as she stepped through, but no one stopped her, no one raised a camera at the spectacle.

Before they could even reach the bouncer, a pitched scream that careened over the pumping music had (Y/N)'s eyes snapping up the raised level that the booths were situated on. Glowing like a mermaid with big waves in her hair and slinky blue dress adorning her body was Francesca, bright smile that much whiter under the lights as she spotted her best friend. The almost empty drink in her hand was perfect evidence of just how she was able to pitch her voice so high.

"(Y/N)!" she bubbled, racing out of her chosen booth on Bambi legs, "You're here! I missed you so much—come here, come here!"

She all but pushed the bouncer aside as she met them at the entrance to the section, the top of the small trio of stairs being where she stopped. The bouncer didn't stop them as Harry pulled her into the safety of the VIP area. Francesca barely glanced at her bodyguard before she had (Y/N) wrapped up in a hug, her glass precariously teetering on her shoulder.

"Emma brought Stavros so she's been all over him," Francesca whined, "I was scared you were going to leave me with her."

"I told you I was on my way," (Y/N) giggled, peeking through the fluff that was Fran's hair to spy Harry standing off to the side in wait of her. She shot him a look, widened eyes with a quiet smile as if to let him in on the inside joke that was her friend's drunken blubbers.

"I know, but I forgot. It doesn't matter, though, everything's okay now," Francesca rushed out, pulling away from the hug to pull (Y/N) towards the chosen booth for the night. Suddenly, she seemed to finally notice Harry was there as well, despite the fact that he had been the one leading her into the section in the first place. "Harry! Hi," she bubbled, waving at him with her drink in hand.

"Hi, Francesca," he said, giving her a nod in greeting before his eyes met (Y/N)'s. It was his turn to give her a small look, their own moment of amusement over her.

"Are you partying with us tonight?" she asked, eyes bright at the idea of Harry joining in on the fun.

Harry shook his head, features schooled away from that quiet look he shared with (Y/N). "Not tonight—'m on duty."

"That's a bummer," Fran pouted. Turning towards (Y/N), she seemingly forgot what had her bummed in the first place, instead replacing her sullen pout with a mischievous smile. "But, are you ready for a drink? We have a couple bottles at the table if you want to do shots!"

Before (Y/N) had a chance to properly answer, Fran led them to the secluded booth off to the corner of the roped off section. There, Emma and Stavros were canoodling away in the padded corner just as Francesca had complained, Emma with her hand sitting on the bare section of chest her boyfriend had on display with his barely buttoned shirt. He looked a little too satisfied with her attention, the way he was sinking into the leather booth and spreading his legs as if inviting Emma further. (Y/N) couldn't blame Fran for panicking at the idea of being left alone with the lovebirds for the night. As happy as they were for lovestruck Emma, the public intimacy was a bit much.

True to her word, on the round table in the middle of the half-moon booth were two bottles of expensive liquor. Tiny shot glasses were standing in a stack by the bottles, a pair already having been used.

Just as Francesca moved to pour (Y/N) one of her own small glasses, she was stopped with a hand on her arm. "I don't want to do too much tonight, Fran," she told her in her ear, hoping she could hear her over the music, "I have pilates in the morning, then I was going to hunt for a new nail studio."

"Oh!" Fran chirped, the remains of her drink sloshing in her glass, "Why didn't you say so? We'll just get you a vodka soda then, so you stay hydrated."

Before (Y/N) could even laugh at her friend's well-intentioned solution, Francesca was already flagging down one of the bottle service workers to place another order. (Y/N) didn't try to stop her, more than willing of this to be her drink of choice for the night instead of a round of shots.

Emma, suddenly breaking out of her love bubble, noticed (Y/N) for the first time despite having been standing by their table for a handful of minutes now. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, eyes glazed and lips puffy, "Look, Stavros, (Y/N)'s here!"

"Hi Emma," (Y/N) greeted, reaching across the table to give her a short hug, "Hi Stavros."

"(Y/N)?" Stavros repeated back to Emma, a confused pinch between his brows.

"You met her at the Gala, remember?" she answered, attempting to jog his memory, "She was in the pink dress with the little bag."

"Oh, yes!" Stavros perked up, looking to (Y/N) with recognition in his eyes, "The crying girl, yes?"

Underneath her skin, (Y/N)'s blood simmered with embarrassment. With Harry being the only person she'd been around since leaving New York, and Francesca being well aware of how unnecessary that night was to bring up, no one had brought up the Gala and the contents of the night to her face. She knew that was what many people in attendance were going to remember her for, but she didn't think it would be so blatantly broadcasted to her face.

Emma shifted her gaze to (Y/N), most likely knowing through Francesca that the Gala was a topic that was off limits for the time being. The silence between the trio lasted a beat too long for (Y/N)'s comfort. She swallowed down that prickling embarrassment, instead giving a smile.

"That was me," she laughed it off, "Hopefully I'll stay out of trouble tonight."

That seemed to be enough to quell the lovebirds' nerves, allowing Emma to smile and laugh along while Stavros gave a peal of laughter that was too enthused for (Y/N) to believe he actually understood what she said. Nonetheless, the awkward beat had been extinguished and now only lived in (Y/N)'s head for the time being. At least no one else was listening, Francesca too busy with her ordering and Harry just a few too many feet away to catch specific conversations.

"How have you been, (Y/N)? I've barely been able to talk to you since you left," Emma started up, leaning forward to give (Y/N) all of her attention.

Though she was sure it was a way to fill in the gaps of the conversation and pave over the bump Stavros left in the night, (Y/N) was grateful for the change in subject, recounting her time in the city. Francesca eventually settled in beside her in the booth, giving her own commentary on the things (Y/N) had already shared with her over dinner. Harry was stationed a few feet away, allowing her some space and privacy for the night though she could still feel his eyes landing on her every now and then as she gesticulated through the story of their day of sightseeing.

Soon enough, drinks arrived at the table along with a wish for their group to have a fun night. Her vodka soda bubbled in hand, the first sips holding the aroma of the rosemary sprig that was lanced through the cubes of ice. Francesca and Emma on the other hand downed a pair of shots while Stavros cheered on his girlfriend.

By the time the burn had left Francesca's throat and she unclenched her eyes, (Y/N) had only made it through a couple of short pulls of her light drink. Francesca looked at her with bright eyes, the strobes from the dance floor tinting them a vibrant blue.

"Let's go dance, c'mon!" she bubbled, already standing on her wobbling legs before she finished speaking.

Peeking around her, she found the dance floor crowded but nowhere near packed in the way some of the spots in New York could get at this hour. The music was good enough, and she didn't plan on wasting her first night out with friends over a throw away comment from Emma's boyfriend and the fear that she might embarrass herself again.

Allowing Francesca to sweep her away, Emma and Stavros unsurprisingly staying back for a moment, (Y/N) found Harry's eyes for a moment. He looked at her with that solid eye contact he never wavered on when it came to her. A slight pinch lingered between his brows.

She shot him a small smile and a single nod.

She was going to have a good night. Harry didn't need to worry.

—————

"I love this song!"

(Y/N) let out an easy, boisterous laugh at Francesca's bubbling comment, throwing her head back with her eyes closed. Did she even know this song? Given the fact Fran's French was nowhere near as refined as (Y/N)'s, there was a high chance she didn't understand a single syllable pumping through the speakers. Nonetheless, (Y/N) kept dancing along with her friend, hands twisting high above her head with her hips swaying.

More than one drink had passed through her hands, a couple passed the limit she set for herself at the start of the night. She would be fine, though, she was sure. She was barely even tipsy, she thought. The Cosmo in her hand was slick against her palm, having replaced the vodka soda she started with.

Across from her Francesca was having the time of her life with Emma and Stavros rounding out their group. Harry was somewhere in the distance, keeping an eye on her. More than once, he checked in from across the room, even sending for another drink for her when he heard her complaining of needing another. He treaded around her carefully, ensuring he didn't infringe on her night while doing his job to the best of his ability.

At the top of the night, she noticed a few eyes on her, some whispering with those wandering eyes landing on her a few too many times. Though she would love to assume they were only speaking of her dress or sharing comments about the state of her dancing, her years in the light pushed her to speculate these were people who recognized her. As more drinks started flowing, her inhibition for the night waning, she let it go when she caught glimpses of phone cameras trained in her direction, a few people even daring to make their way closer to her on the dance floor.

Harry kept a careful eye on the situation, watching her movements and keeping track of those around her. (Y/N) was sure a few of the times he stepped in to grab her another drink or check in on her, it was nothing short of a tactic to separate her from the others on the floor, reminding them that she wasn't a gazelle to be preyed on.

Suddenly, a pair of hands slid around her waist. She jumped in her skin for a moment, her heated skin erupting in goosebumps. Though her dancing lagged for just a moment, she honestly didn't really care about the touch. With her eyes closed, and head trained towards the sky, she halfway figured it was Emma who was dancing with her, having abandoned her boyfriend to cuddle up for a moment.

Until she heard Emma's tittering laugh from a space away. In front of her.

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) took stock of those around her. Emma was stretching up to her tiptoes as she sealed her lips to Stavros', her hands locked in his hair, only pulling away when he whispered something to her that made her laugh. Francesca was off to the side of her, making moony eyes at an unfamiliar man in front of her, there chattering silent under the thrumming music. On her waist was the hand of someone she didn't know.

Stumbling in her spot, she tried to whirl around in an attempt to see who exactly it was that was behind her. The hand on her waist tightened, steadying her as he leaned down with his mouth by her ear.

"Sorry, chérie," an accented voice said over her shoulder, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Unable to help the peal of laughter that fell from her lips, (Y/N) realized something just then.

She was drunk.

In a different moment, with a different drink in her hand (probably water), she wouldn't have been quite so welcoming to having someone touch her and use a pet name so casually.

Instead, she didn't really mind. She could only laugh and hang onto his hand, keeping herself steady as she tipped her head backwards to see him.

"It's okay," she slurred, "I just wasn't expecting that." Blue eyes stared back at her, topped by black brows. He smelled like smoke and vodka Red Bulls. "Who are you?"

The man laughed at her blunt question, the sound mixing with the music. "I am Marc," he told her, eyes shifting over her head to where Francesca was standing, "And that's my friend, Alain. We thought you and your friend were beautiful, so we wanted to introduce ourselves."

"Oh, okay," she sounded, matching his line of sight a little too quickly with her hair fluttered around her face. Much more stable on her feet again, she spun on her heels, facing her mystery man—Marc—properly. "Nice to meet you," she bubbled, taking an absent sip from her drink, "I'm (Y/N)."

Dipping down, Marc pressed a swift kiss to the soft of her cheek. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I've been having to work up the courage to come talk to you since I first came in here."

While in the back of her muddled mind, (Y/N) knew well that he was feeding her nothing but lines, she wasn't sure if she cared. There had been enough times she had been seduced by a French accent and enough wine to know that this was just one of those things. French men were much more romantic in her experiences, their lines matching the intimacy they were seeking from her.

Was it such a bad thing to revel in the niceties, though? The last time someone had openly flirted with her now ranked in the top five worst nights of her life, so it felt a little more than nice to have someone piling compliments and cushioned flirting. Was it such a bad thing to indulge herself? To soak in a second of outside validation?

Though the standard wasn't that high, at least he wasn't grabbing her face and demeaning her.

Letting her hesitations go, drifting to the back of her mind with the help of the alcohol train running off the tracks, she leaned towards him with a giggling smile. "Well, I'm happy you did," she beamed, her eyes hooded.

Taking another pull of her drink, her straw hit the bottom with only ice clinking against the glass. She almost wanted to whine at the sight. She had been hoping for more.

"Do you want me to get you another?" Marc asked, nodding towards her drink when she looked up at him.

"Um, hold on," she told him, already craning her neck to look around him in hopes of spotting someone else.

(Y/N) scanned the blur of bodies for Harry. It didn't take long to see the only sober person in the crowd, his gaze sharp and commanding through the strobing lights. He stood off the dance floor with his arms across his chest. Raising his brows, he matched her gaze. Canting her head, she raised her glass over her head as if that was enough of an explanation.

Harry gave her a small nod before she was looking back at her new friend.

"One of my friends has been getting me drinks tonight, actually. So, thanks, but I've got it." A hiccup punctuated her words.

Marc looked over his shoulder, surely spotting Harry who was making his way through the crowd to her. "You said he's your friend?"

"Uh-huh," (Y/N) sounded, wanting to see Harry herself but instead opting to sway to the sound of the music. He'd be here soon enough. "He's technically my bodyguard, but he's my friend.

"Bodyguard?" Marc repeated, looking back towards (Y/N).

Even though her vodka-soaked thought process, she noted the way he didn't seem too put off by the fact she had any kind of security detail. Maybe, that was that French disposition—the inability to care that much—but that wasn't something she was able to think about for very long.

"Uh-huh," she answered nonetheless, a hiccup making her pause, "It's a long story. I'm from New York, and there's been a lot of stuff going on, so, yeah, he's my bodyguard."

Speak of the devil, Harry popped in then, having elbowed his way through to stand at (Y/N)'s side. He didn't pay Marc a single moment of attention, looking only to her with his secure gaze.

"Y'want another, or water?"

While she couldn't deny she was reveling under Marc's attention, it was also very clear to herself how much she preferred Harry's eyes on her opposed to her new companion. There were sparks of relief upon seeing him within touching distance again, knowing that he was right there. If there was anything she needed, he was there now to remedy her situation. She knew he was taking note of everything, uncaring of whether or not her makeup was intact, assuring that she was safe and taken care of.

But, Marc actually called her pretty. He won for the night, (Y/N) decided.

"I think I want another, but then I want water," she shouted over the music, giving Harry her glass for him to discard at the bar.

Raising a dark brow, Harry gave her that amused look. "That's what y'said last time."

She laughed easily at his prodding, her grin stretching wide over her lips and head dropping backwards. "I know," she sang, "But I mean it this time."

"Whatever you say," he teased, "But I'll get you another. Jus' stay right here and wait for me."

"Merci," she crooned to him, suddenly remembering Marc's presence when he squeezed at her waist.

Before (Y/N) could offer for Harry to grab Marc a drink while he was at the bar as well, Harry was already off. He made a quick detour, checking on her friends then sinking into the thick of the crowd once more.

She hadn't even known she was watching the space he disappeared into until Marc snaked his hand up the line of her spine, palm flat against her back as he pushed her into him. (Y/N) turned her attention to him, mouth in a small gape as he matched her gaze head-on. His eyes were a lot icier than she remembered.

"Do you maybe want to go sit down for a second somewhere?" he asked, dipping down to press his cheek against hers with his lips by her ear, "It's hard to hear you out here."

"In a second," she answered, hiccuping against his chest, "I need to wait for him."

"You have a booth for the night, though, right? Up in the VIP section?" he pressed, seemingly not catching her caveat in sneaking away.

"I-I do, but Harry—my drink."

"I'm sure he'll be able to find you up there, don't worry," Marc insisted, herding (Y/N) off the dance floor and towards the sectioned off dais.

Though her footing wasn't the most stable at the moment, (Y/N) still attempted to dig her heels in and stay put. Harry told her to stay here. She had promised him she would keep his job easy while in Paris, and she knew that sneaking off wasn't something that would abide by that promise.

Out of nowhere, Francesca's hand clasped around her shoulder. In her other hand was Marc's friend's arm, her eyes hooded and glazed.

"Let's go up to the booth," she drawled, words a little slurred.

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) asked, the slightly more sober of the duo, "Harry is supposed to come back over here; he told me to wait."

Francesca shook her head with her fluff of styled hair. "He'll"—hic—"He'll be able to find you. It's okay."

It wouldn't be so bad if Francesca and Emma were up there with her. Harry wasn't stupid either, the next place he would look after the dance floor would have to be the booth, right? it would be okay.

Giving a nod to Fran, (Y/N) allowed her to lead their small group towards the VIP area, Marc and his friend happily intermingling with the group and Emma and Stavros bringing up the rear.

Despite her hesitancy, she did feel a bit better by the time she scaled the small set of stairs. She was nowhere near sober and the music wasn't much quieter than down on the floor, but at least here she wasn't stuffed between bodies. She could open her eyes and see stretches of the floor, her body touching non-humid air again.

She was happy to see the booth once more, grateful to take a seat and get the pressure off her feet and the heels she had strapped around her ankles. Though Marc didn't slide in beside her like she expected. Instead, stood at the head of the table and lent down to speak to her.

"I have a couple of other friends I brought tonight. Do you mind if I go get them? I'm their ride so I don't want them to worry," he told her, looking innocently with icy blue eyes.

"Friends?" (Y/N) asked, unsure if it was the alcohol or the outlandish request that wasn't computing.

"Yeah, just a few. They're down there," Marc recited, casting a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be right back, okay?"

With that, he was heading back down the entrance of the VIP area, leaving (Y/N) and the girls behind.

Fran, little black straw in her mouth with water finally having been poured in her glass, lent across the booth, gently touching (Y/N)'s shoulder. When she turned, she caught the woozy smile on Francesca's face.

"Your guy is really cute," she said, her words dissolving into laughter.

"Yeah," (Y/N) answered absently, "But, did yours tell you that they're bringing friends over here?"

"Yeah," Fran simply repeated, taking another long sip of her water.

While it didn't particularly soothe her that Francesca didn't seem to care about the new uninvited guests, she figured there wasn't much else she could glean about her thoughts while in her drunken state. Instead, she let Francesca insert herself into Emma and Stavros' conversation, while (Y/N) searched for Harry. Soon enough, she spotted him approaching the dais, pink drink in hand and water in the other. There was a particularly stern set in his jaw, clearly disappointed.

Coming to the booth, he ducked down to place the duo of drinks in front of her, the water closer to the foreground. He looked at her through the fan of his lashes, lips a stern line as he lent across to talk to her.

"I thought y'were going to wait for me down there," he told her, lips by her ear.

"Um, yeah," she responded, dropping her gaze to the cranberry juice heavy Cosmopolitan she ordered, "That guy—my friend—, he said he wanted to talk to me here so it was a little bit quieter. But, now he's getting some friends he said he didn't want to leave behind."

(Y/N) didn't have to see Harry to know he was particularly unimpressed with this new information. "He said he's bringing friends? To come and sit up here with you?"

"Yeah," she told him, voice small with a nod of her head.

The more she said it out loud, the less and less of a good idea it sounded to her ears.

"Okay," he sighed, pulling away to match her eye contact head-on, "'M going to be right there, then." Behind him, he pointed at the glass railing that reinforced the boundaries of the VIP section, a good place for him to take up post and keep an eye on her. "Make sure y'stay with Emma and Francesca, okay? Don't let them get separated from you. Remember what we talked about that I need you to do if you're uncomfortable."

Swallowing, (Y/N) nodded her head, looking at him with wide eyes. Though the scene around him blurred a little too much, vodka-tinted vision, she made sure she locked eyes with him. "Okay. I remember."

That seemed to quell him enough, though that set in his jaw never loosened. "Good. I'll be right there, just grab me if y'need me."

With Harry blending into his post, his eyes unwavering on her form, (Y/N) attempted to settle herself with sips of her water. Soon enough, a larger group of people infiltrated the VIP section, their access to get through having been the fact two of the members had been previously seen with (Y/N) and Francesca.

The group of friends looked a lot different than what (Y/N) had expected. Two more men had joined the fray, along with three women. The entire friend group being that of seven people, adding into the group of four that were (Y/N) and her friends.

"Thanks for letting me bring them up here," Marc said, sly smile on his lips when he slipped into the booth beside (Y/N), "They really wanted to meet you guys."

"Y-Yeah, of course," she stuttered out, though Marc clearly stopped listening before she even started.

His eyes wandered to one of the women he brought up, watching as she flagged down a bottle service worker. (Y/N) could hear her rattling off orders in French, pointing back at Francesca and (Y/N) settled into the booth. While she was busy, the others had descended upon the liquor already on the table, draining the bottles.

"What's wrong?" Marc asked, voice a tad too sweet. As if he didn't have a single idea of what she could be bothered by.

"There's just a lot of people," (Y/N) answered, clutching her glass of water tight. If she had the attention to spare, she would have looked towards Francesca for assistance, to see if she was the only one thrown off. But there was too much happening, and she couldn't even see Harry through the new mass forming in their booth.

Marc waved her off carelessly, "Don't worry about them. Just have fun, chérie. The night is still young."

Around her, she saw the maelstrom that had begun. Drinks were flowing, Francesca happily distracted with Alain, Emma and Stavros in their bubble, and a few of the new additions to the table pairing off with affectionate hands. There was only one woman left—the one that had initially flagged down the bottle service worker—who was carefully watching Marc at (Y/N)'s side.

Everyone was having fun, she figured. The two bottles they had on their table had been drained with Francesca a moment away from catching her man for the night in a kiss. Even the woman with eyes on Marc was swaying to the music, empty shot glasses in front of her.

(Y/N) did want to have fun.

"C'mon, dance with me," Marc persuaded, standing up with his hand held out for her to take.

After a beat of hesitation, (Y/N) took his offered hand and joined him, paying enough attention to the music above to let everything go just a hair. With Marc egging her on, a hand landing on her waist, she swayed along to the beat, hanging more fun the less she thought.

It wasn't until she took a sip of her water that Marc interrupted her.

"No, have fun, chérie," he pressed, taking the water out of her hand and reaching for the abandoned Cosmopolitan.

"I don't know," (Y/N) started, intending to reject the drink until it was shoved into her hand.

"Don't be boring, chérie," Marc chided, as if he were close enough to her to tease, "Don't let it go to waste, at least."

While it wasn't solid logic considering (Y/N) was the one paying for her drink, it was enough of a persuasion to work on her muddled brain. She pliantly fit the thin black straw between her lips, allowing herself to drift into the moment. It wasn't so bad, she decided. The extra people weren't so bad in their sanctioned area. It didn't even bother her that much when three more bottles were delivered to the table, sparklers and all with a procession of excited staff fueling the fire.

"I told them it was alright to order some bottles for the table," Marc sounded over the music, looping an arm around her shoulders to press her to his chest, "I can pay you back though if you want, I just kind of figured it would be okay since you're from New York and all."

Looking to the table, she saw as the rest of his friends swarmed the table, Alain even abandoning Francesca to join in the rounds of shots. (Y/N)'s name wasn't even officially on the table, but they'd still managed to put things on her tab.

Floundering over her response, (Y/N) could feel her mouth gape before closing once more. In this moment, more than anything she wished she hadn't drank so much. This wouldn't be much of a struggle if she could manage to focus or not dredge through miles of muddy tracks in her head. It was easier to let things go at the moment instead of allowing the bubbling blow up that would have transpired earlier in the night.

"Um—Just, don't order too much," (Y/N) conditioned, her brows coming together in a loose pinch.

"It'll be alright," he assured her, that arm around her shoulders tightening to get her eyes back on him, "C'mon let's finish our drinks."

Marc's free hand came up to urge her drink up to her mouth. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, contemplating for a split second. While it was annoying, the extra bottles ordered in her name at the table, but it wasn't so bad. The night was going fine enough, and Marc was nice. She didn't want to ruin anything or make any kind of scene in the middle of the club. Harry's eyes were no doubt trained on her.

Even with her father countries away at the moment, she was sure he'd find a way to punish her accordingly if Harry had to report anything unpleasant back.

Pliantly, (Y/N) pulled the thin black straw between her lips, taking down her Cosmopolitan.

—————

Unsure of how she got here, (Y/N) couldn't help but to stare wide eyed at Marc and his—surprisingly enough—girlfriend dancing on the table.

At least she assumed that was his girlfriend, with the way his tongue was down her throat and hand was on her ass.

Honestly, she couldn't be that surprised, considering this woman was the same one that had been staring possessively the whole time Marc was interacting with her. But, how they ended up on the table, dancing to some French song she was not sober enough to understand, (Y/N) did not know.

Around the table, the rest of that friend group had grown just as rowdy. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks, the waitstaff offering dirty looks from the amount of times one of the couples had attempted to smoke, and the neighboring tables were beginning to lose patience with their chaos.

Francesca was definitely out of her head for the night, every sip of alcohol definitely hitting her system heavily. While she may have had qualms with the etiquette of their unwanted guests if she were sober, she definitely didn't with the way she was willing to ignore as much in favor of dancing and playing with Emma when she wasn't busy with Stavros. Emma's boyfriend, being the most sober of the group, was less than impressed, whispering something into Emma's ear that (Y/N) hoped was a game plan to get out of here.

Searching through the mass that had been created around the table, (Y/N) tried to spot Harry. She wanted to get out of here. There was no reasoning with the way these people were behaving, and she wanted to get out of here before she was pushed too far.

Suddenly, a strong hand landed on her shoulder. Turning on her heel, she startled at the touch.

Harry stood behind her, his jaw set and brows in a furrow. Dipping his head down, he told her, "We need to leave."

Even with her head swimming, (Y/N) jerkily nodded her head. "I don't want to be here anymore," she answered, "Th-They're being crazy."

"Yeah." His answer was simple and stern, flicking his gaze up to the couple dancing on the table. His eyes blazed at the sight of Marc, definitely having played with (Y/N) through the night to get up to this section. "C'mon," he prompted, using his hand on her shoulder to help guide her through the booth before meeting him on the other side.

Despite her drunken legs, she dug her heels in. "But, Fran and Emma."

"I'll call them a car, we jus' need to leave before this gets any more out of hand. Tell them we're leaving."

Nodding, Harry let go of her before she tried to swim across to catch Francesca. Even when she grabbed her hand, Fran kept dancing, on a different planet that kept her eyes plugged and head drowning.

"Francesca!" (Y/N) shouted, trying to be heard over the music.

"(Y/N)!" she answered, barely glancing at her with a flip of her hair before she was dancing on an odd rhythm.

Attempting to catch her attention once more, (Y/N) was stopped as Marc leaned down, his lips swollen and eyes glazed.

"You're not leaving, right?" he yelled over the music, his words watery and slurred, "You're supposed to stay and party with us, New York!"

(Y/N) stammered over an answer. "I—um—"

"We've seen those pictures of you, we know you like to have a good time! You can't leave yet!"

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, part of her chest felt a little too tight. Of course, they knew who she was. Of course, they'd seen photos of her.

"I'm sorry, I don't feel good," she responded, uncaring if he could hear her over the music anymore.

Something shifted in Marc, then. His features morphed almost before her eyes, his eyes darkening and brows tightening. "How are we supposed to pay for all of this, if you aren't here?!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not staying here," she affirmed, shaking her head, "I'm grabbing my friends and—"

"Wow," he spat, cutting her off, "You really are a bitch—just like everyone says,"

Stepping up behind her, Harry placed a stern hand on Marc's chest, pushing him out of (Y/N)'s space.

"Back off, unless y'would prefer to have a problem," he started, his rough voice heavy over the music. Marc teetered off balance, the woman at his side having to steady him as he looked at Harry with offended eyes.

"Who a—"

"We're leaving," Harry cemented, ignoring whatever Marc was going to try to say, "You are going to find a way to pay for all of this, or you'll be hearing from me again. You're not going to be taking advantage of her."

There was no room left for Marc to argue before Harry wrangled up the girls, Stavros helping to guide both Fran and Emma out of the booth.

"C'mere," Harry said, offering (Y/N) his hand to help her climb over the back of the booth.

She happily took his hand, carefully stepping over the faux-leather with Harry grabbing her waist to help her over the structure. Tottering on her heels for just a moment, Harry didn't linger for very long before he was rushing her out of the VIP section. She could feel dirty looks on her back from the staff, but she didn't care at the moment.

Instead, she clung to Harry as they caught up to Francesca and Emma, Stavros heading their line on his much steadier feet. The closer they ventured to the exit, the more and more drunk she felt. The more removed she became from the pumping music and the other alcohol-soaked bodies, the more the real world was not suited to her current state.

"Careful," Harry murmured in her ear, righting her from a stumble she hadn't realized she made. Slipping an arm around her waist, he curled his hand around her hip.

"Sorry, sorry," she answered, fixing her gaze on her feet in hopes of staying cautious like he asked. Absently, she grabbed his hand on her hip, laying her palm against the top of hand with her fingers curling in-between the gaps of his.

Harry pulsed his hand, both her hip and fingers cradled in his hold.

Stavros pushed the exit door open for everyone to follow, the first light of the outside world glimmering into the otherwise dark club. Even with the alcohol muddling her thoughts, (Y/N) still caught the way Francesca stumbled back when she stepped out, her hands blindly reaching up to cover her eyes.

(Y/N)'s steps slowed, bright flashes pinging out on the sidewalk. Those people—the ones who stole their table and tacked (Y/N)'s name on the end of their bill—they wouldn't have posted about her, would they? While she might not be as hugely followed out here compared to New York, there were definitely international publications that enjoyed snapping her photo and selling it off.

Heading up the rear, Harry continued to pull her towards the exit, even when (Y/N) saw another round of flashbulbs go off when Emma made her appearance out on the concrete. Shouted questions in French could be heard, bubbling just over the sound of the music.

"Stay with me," Harry murmured to her, "There should be some cars waiting, jus' stay steady, (Y/N)."

She wanted to listen, she really did. But, the shuttering cameras and bright blinking bulbs was enough to get her hesitating just enough that she couldn't keep up. She didn't want to be seen like this, not after the way this night had turned out.

As attentive as Harry was, always observant, he was on a mission and that didn't include (Y/N) dragging while he tried to get her to a safe place.

As he tugged her over the threshold of the door, Stavros still holding it open, she stumbled against Harry's pulling, her heel catching just right. Flashes twinkled in her face, cameras blinking as photographs were taken of her stumbling outside, clinging to Harry with her breath caught in her throat. The toe of her pump dragged over the concrete, her lost balance weighing her down until Harry righted her, steadying his grip around her waist with his free hand reaching for her hip.

"Y'alright?" he murmured to her, suddenly breathless as he helped her back onto her feet.

"I'm okay," she told her, voice a peep under the bright attention.

Pressing questions were spewed in her direction, many asking who Harry was, why she was in Paris, and how drunk she was. (Y/N) ignored them all, focusing on following Harry who now led the group towards the waiting cars.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice low for her ears only, "I didn't mean to trip you."

(Y/N) shook her head. "It's okay," she assured him, eyes on her feet to calculate her steps, "I just want to go home."

"We will." Harry's simple answer was just that before he quickened his pace, allowing (Y/N) to keep up as they pushed through the throng of photographers waiting outside the club.

With Stavros heading up the back of their procession, many of the paparazzi were unable to follow any of the girls without getting through him first. As kind as he was, she could tell he used that Greek glare to his advantage, acting as if he couldn't believe they were following him while being an oblivious block in the road.

That extra distraction allowed Harry to lead the group somewhere safe, around the side of a building a little too narrow for anyone else to follow. Two black sedans were parked against the curb.

Without hesitation, Harry adjusted his grip on (Y/N), practically hugging her to his chest. She curled into him, fitting her forehead against the column of his throat with her arms a bundle between them. Harry cradled her with his arms around her waist, keeping her safe with him after the chaos that erupted.

She could hear him speaking over her head to Emma and Stavros, ensuring they were going to take care of Francesca and that he had taken care of the fees of their reserved vehicle. She wanted to participate, tell Emma she was sorry for the night's turn and assure Stavros that every night (Y/N) was involved in didn't dissolve into a scrambled mess, but instead she kept herself warm against Harry's chest and let him do the talking for them. She would call Emma later she decided—maybe text her if her hangover didn't allow phone calls in the morning.

"That one's yours," Harry directed, (Y/N) noticing his words only when he unlinked an arm around her to point, "It was nice to meet you. Get home safe."

Stavros answered back in broken English while Emma was busy herding Francesca along with them. Muttered discussion could be heard with the driver of their vehicle before car doors were opens and slammed shut. The sound reverberated for a moment, before silence settled.

"Our turn?" (Y/N) asked, pulling away to look up at Harry holding her.

His lips were thin, eyes downturned as he gazed at her. "C'mon," he responded, loosening his hold in exchange for leading her towards the single waiting sedan

He took charge, speaking to the driver through the rolled down window, even if his French was less than stellar. Once all the details and verifications are figured out, Harry helped her in the backseat, pushing her in first before leaning in and helping her buckle up. While (Y/N) had anticipated that cushion of space to be between them as usual, he surprised her by sliding in right at her side, a long arm laying across the top of the seat behind her head.

Peeking through the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught the driver eyeing she and Harry, her brown eyes fluttering with recognition. (Y/N) curled into herself then, dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap while Harry's dropped to the cuff of her shoulder. In French, he reiterated the address of the penthouse when their driver didn't immediately pull away from the curb.

Once the road was under their tires, the sound of the gear shifting and setting them off away from the club, (Y/N) felt herself begin to relax. Even if their driver knew who she was, it was a less daunting experience than waiting outside of a paparazzi litter club while waitstaff inside were no doubt spinning rumors about her low class and patrons were spitting over the fact they had to foot the bill they ran up.

Casting her memory back to the front of the night was enough to exhaust her into slumping against Harry's shoulder.

"I want water," she blurted out, nestling into the divot between his shoulder and chest.

Harry pulsed his arm around her frame, keeping her warm against his chest. "I'll get y'some water as soon as we're back, yeah?"

"I want to take my makeup off, though," she mused, a pinch appearing between her brows though her eyes fluttered closed.

"We'll take your makeup off when we get back, yeah? First thing."

"I want food, too."

A breathy laugh disturbed where she was cuddled into him. "I'll get y'something to eat when we get back, yeah?"

Mulling it over for a lingering second, (Y/N) agreed with a nod of her head. "Yeah," she parroted, pleased enough with his operation.

The gentle motion of the turns and slow stops the car made was enough to settle (Y/N) into a light trance, her head filling with sleep-puffed clouds. She forced herself to stay awake, hoping the elapsed time was as long as it felt.

"I didn't get to say bye to the girls," (Y/N) said, hoping to keep herself awake enough for Harry to get her water, food, and her makeup off like he promised.

"I told them you'd call, or you can text them later," he explained, shifting over the leather of the seat.

"You don't think they're mad, right?" she pressed, voice quieter, "That I ruined everything with those guys?"

A pause of silence sat as the third passenger for a moment, heavy before Harry spoke. "Of course, they're not. 'S not your fault any of that happened—you're jus' too nice sometimes, that's all."

"No one's ever said that about me before." (Y/N) couldn't help the short smile that tickled the corners of her mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm too nice," she beamed, snuggling closer to Harry, "Usually it's the opposite."

Perfect timing came in the form of their cab stopping outside of the building, easy French words coming from the driver as she turned to talk to Harry. (Y/N) could vaguely hear him thanking her and sending payment off through his phone, before he was sliding across the leather with her in tow.

"Careful," he crooned, offering a hand as she followed in teetering steps.

(Y/N) laced their fingers together without a second thought. Harry solidified the hold in a pulse of his fingers around hers.

She was a step behind him with a blinking flutter of her lashes, forcing her eyes to adjust to the world once more after being shuttered for the duration of the drive. The warm lighting of the building helped her find her footing in the real world, no longer neon like the club or fluorescent like the flashbulbs of cameras. Harry kept a steady grip on her hand, taking her to the leisurely paced elevator.

Staying stuck to his side, huddled into a single corner of the whole cubicle, soft music filled the space between them while (Y/N) recounted the night. While she definitely was not sober, stepping away from the high paced environments allowed her mind to iron out some of the details she didn't think twice about earlier.

"I don't like when people talk to me like that," she murmured, the number on the carousel just blinking past two.

"What do you mean?" The warmth of his gaze landed on the side of her face, his hand heavy in hers.

"That guy," she started, her breathing stuttering through the beginning of a hiccup she swallowed down, "The one at the club. He was mad that I wasn't going to be there to pay for what he and his friends ordered. I think he knew who I was even though he pretended he didn't. He called me a bitch." A beat passed. "I think that girl was his girlfriend, too—the one on the table with him."

Harry stood quietly at her side, the ever-sturdy pillar. He listened, observed. Took everything in, as he always did.

That silence stuck with them as the elevator chimed as they reached their floor. The doors parted for Harry to usher her through, taking her to the door before unlocking the knob and helping her forward. It wasn't until they were alone, in their private space, that he spoke again.

"I did hear him say those things," he murmured, his voice tight.

"It was mean, wasn't it?" she asked, kicking her shoes off by the front door, her toes aching after holding her weight for the night.

"It is," he affirmed, waiting for her to grow steady on her feet before he started towards the kitchen. True to his promise, he started with a glass of water for her, setting it on the counter before he was raiding the cabinets for a snack. He didn't look at her when he spoke again, keeping his attention forward. "You know none of that is true, though, right?"

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, sipping her water with her eyes trained on his back.

Returning with leftover gougères from the day before (Harry had become really fond of bisqué now that she showed him it didn't matter the season, soup was always a good choice), he set the cheese-baked pastries as her side before he leveled her gaze.

"No matter what he said,'' Harry started, his words slow and deliberate, "You're not a bitch,"—he all but choked around the word—"It's not up to you to pay for him and his idiot friends. He was trying to take advantage of you."

"I know," she swallowed, the words hitting a soft part of her muddled brain, "B-But now there's another person that thinks I'm bad."

"I don't think that, though," he said after a beat, his voice considerably softer, matching the moss of his eyes, "Fran and Emma don't think so—neither does Sully. We all know who y'actually are, and I think that counts for something."

Standing quietly, bare feet against the tile of the kitchen, (Y/N) allowed his words to swim in her brain. She soaked them in as much as she could, the weight of them heavy.

"You really don't think so?" she pressed, dropping her gaze to the collar of his fitted shirt, "Even after... everything, and all the stuff my father told you?"

Harry shook his head, a loose curl splaying across his forehead. "What your father says, means nothing to me. Everything I've seen, is y'trying your best. You're put in hard situations, and then expected to know how to handle them on your first try, all while everyone watches. It's not fair."

Overloaded, (Y/N) tried to cling to every word he was saying. She dearly hoped she would remember this in the morning, or at least the feeling of it all. The feeling of that light hope in her chest, brighter than that of whatever French bisqué she made or fanciful purchase could inspire.

Harry understood her.

"That's exactly how it feels sometimes," she confided in him, blindly reaching out in hopes of catching the hem of his shirt before he did her one better and bundled both of her hands in his own. "I love Fran, I do," she told him, letting his gaze with her own soft eyes, "But, she doesn't understand me like that—like you do."

"I wish more people understood you," Harry murmured, his words quiet enough (Y/N) wasn't sure if she heard him right.

"You're like my best friend, now," (Y/N) responded, hoping he could catch her sincerity even if she was a little plastered.

Those searching eyes traipsed around the planes of her face, skipping along every contour and highlight. She wished she knew what was going on in his head, what thought he had when he catalogued her like a fine gown.

"C'mon," he beckoned her, unlacing one hand from hers only to grab the plate of gougères, "Let's eat, then we'll get ready for bed."

(Y/N) pliantly followed, the Eiffel Tower glimmering through the windows of her balcony.

—————

Slipping out of her bedroom, (Y/N) cast her eyes around in hopes of finding Harry lounging about.

Last night was a whirlwind that ended with her snuggled in her bed, makeup off and hair braided back but still in her dress. She woke with a half eaten gougère on her bedside table, alongside a glass of water and a small bottle of aspirin. While parts of the night were muddied, many things were still clear—including the way Harry handled her and helped take care of her friends.

That also meant she remembered the small string of photographers that had waited outside the club, cameras flashing as she stumbled over her own feet.

Against her better judgement, she couldn't help but to check her phone after blinking the sleep out of her eyes, wanting to see what exactly—if anything—was being written by her.

The photos were the first things she saw, many of them favoring headlines featuring a specific shot of her clinging to Harry as she almost fell, the hem of her dress riding up and Harry's grip strong around her waist. The nature of their relationship was once again called into question, as if his hold was anything but protective. Some even captioned the photos of him whispering to her, apologizing for tripping her, as him whispering sweet nothings into her hair.

Honestly, many of the articles were on the tame side, the headlines being nothing more than clickbait. The worst they spoke on was her "leg-baring dress", while much more of the pieces were spent speculating about Harry once more and recounting the 132 Gala news.

She'd definitely seen worse about herself. While none of this was the preferred outcome, it was one she could get through. Hopefully, with the time zones, her father wouldn't see the news just yet.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she left her phone on her bed while venturing outside the suite. Instead of finding Harry like she hoped, she was instead left with a view of an empty apartment, a single glass of her purple smoothie left on the counter.

A smile bloomed on her fatigued cheeks when she noticed the dirtied blender in the sink, scraps of fruit having been tossed in the trash with a freshly wiped down countertop. Harry had to have made this one.

Maybe that was why it tasted that much sweeter when she took the first sip. Even without the matcha and collagen she usually requested, she felt much more awake.

Straw tucked between her lips as she sipped her smoothie, (Y/N) debated tracking down Harry to his bedroom, wishing so badly she could see him again in the right-frame of mind.

Those reassurances he uttered to her the night before were sitting in her head, perfect like a present waiting for her to wake up to. Perhaps that's what had made the sensationalized stories about her much more palatable. What did it matter what they and anonymous blogs said when Harry reiterated how many people in her life knew her and cared for her.

Turning back towards the living room, she spotted him through the crystal windows on the balcony doors, coffee in hand as he made a home in the lounger. She tried not to overthink it all as she crossed the room, gently knocking on the door before pushing it open.

"Morning," she murmured, stepping out onto the balcony with him.

Harry's posture straightened, his sleepy eyes gazing up at her through the shadow of his lashes. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

Taking a long sip of the smoothie, she hoped he caught the way almost a third of it was gone already. "Definitely been better. So much for not drinking, right?" she joked, taking a seat beside him in her own lounger.

"Y'weren't too bad," he answered, his own amusement leaking through his words. "Y'don't feel sick or anything?"

Turning her gaze towards the city, she watched the sun rise over the Eiffel Tower, remembering what it looked like with all the twinkle light just hours before.

"No, I'm alright. Thank you for getting me food and medicine and everything."

"Of course," he answered simply, taking a sip of his own coffee.

From the corner of his eye, his gaze lingered on the smoothie in her hand. The ghost of a dimple touched his cheek.

For the first time in a while, especially after everything she had read being posted about them—about him—, she didn't feel the need to explain or apologize.

Harry knew her. He knew her enough to know the difference between tabloid features and facts. Even knowing what would undoubtedly be said about him if he were pictured so closely with her—whether it be because of his job or the fact she felt she could call him a friend—he didn't shy away from holding her tight and making her feel safe in the midst of everything.

Instead of offering any kind words, (Y/N) scooted her chair that much closer to his, eyes on the Tower.

—————

"(Y/N), how many times do we have to talk about this?"

Without missing a beat, (Y/N) kept cleaning up the kitchen after having made lunch for she and Harry, her father's voice nothing more than dull background noise as she left the call on speaker. The mute feature was being utilized as he raged at her, not a second thought in her head being spared over his grilling.

It was a waste of time, she decided. That was the kind of mood she was in today, and that was the kind of daughter he would be getting. Though, to notice at all, would mean that he would have to actually pay attention and let her speak instead of spilling off rhetorical questions before hitting her with insults once.

It'd been a full day since the articles had been posted about her, more and more photos resurfacing of her stumbling outside and being led away with Harry, while blogs were posting grainy photos from the inside of the club before things went downhill. She knew a phone call like this was coming.

The only new addition to this particular berating, was the silent audience that was sitting on the couch.

Harry, leaning against the arm of the couch, had his arms crossed, one hand at his side in a heavy fist with the other cupping his chin, elbow bent to rest on his other wrist. His gaze was unfocused, a piece of flooring holding his attention while he listened to whatever it was that her father was serving up for the day.

From the way his features pinched and this fist as his side progressively tightened into a white-knuckled grip, she could only imagine the kind of things her father was sharing. He didn't even know there was an audience there to listen in, let alone that it was Harry. No filter was being applied as he spoke.

Wringing out her washcloth in the sink, (Y/N) tuned in just enough to hear a question that had her hands stuttering.

"Is Harry not enough for you?" her father asked, disappointment dripping from his tone, "Do I need to find someone else to look after you? Do you need a whole team to keep you in line?"

She rushed to pick up her phone, taking the call off speaker and mute as she pressed it to her ear.

"No, no," she interrupted him, uncaring of the snap that would be given back for cutting him off, "Harry's doing a good job, just... You know how I am."

Turning her back to Harry as she spoke, she attempted to find some kind of privacy as if she weren't the only one speaking in the room. He could hear every word—every plea she was about to make to ensure he kept his job with her.

While she took it as a positive that her father wasn't suggesting to replace Harry, she definitely didn't want anyone else added to the mix. Harry is more than enough for her.

On the other end, her father scoffed. "Don't I," he mused, (Y/N) able to imagine the rolling of his eyes through the phone. "I don't know what to do, (Y/N)," he started, heaving a sigh, "I've reached out to publicists and handlers, and anyone in the industry to help. No one wants to touch your reputation. It's preceded you at this point, no one wants to work with a brat. I don't have many options left."

Grateful for the fact her back was facing Harry, she felt a warmth hit under her skin. It was a humiliating thought—knowing that others all around her had spoken so lowly that even publicists that deemed any publicity as good publicity wouldn't touch her.

"I know," she conceded, swallowing around her dry throat, "But, I don't think any more security is a good idea. It would look bad, don't you think?"

She was grasping at straws a bit, hoping to dig into the image he held so dear. The one thing he cared about when it came to her.

A beat passed before he spoke once more, his voice distant and musing. "Now, you're thinking. I think I might have another idea, then."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I think I have an idea," her father perked on the other side, "Let me make a few calls and then I'll get back in touch."

"Okay, u—"

"In the meantime, (Y/N)," he cut her off, "I'm going to make it especially clear—again—that you need to have your head on straight. You're not making anything easy on anyone when you act like this—myself and Harry included. Stop being selfish and think before you act."

His tone was definite. Everything he said was nothing more than a slightly different variation of everything he'd already told her. She needed to try harder not to make everything her fault.

"I know," she answered, a detached response that had been drilled into her, "I'm working on it."

"Good. Talk to you later."

With that, before she had a chance to utter her own goodbye, her father hung up. Dead air filled the kitchen as she pulled her phone from her ear, slipping the device into her back pocket.

"What was that?" Harry asked, not waiting for her to face him before firing off.

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) turned to look at him, fiddling awkwardly in the middle of the small kitchen. "He said he wanted to get you more help—like, more security—, but I was able to get him off that idea. Now, he says he has another idea, but he won't tell me about it until he calls later. He said he had to talk to a few people first."

Unimpressed, Harry hummed in response. His gaze finally focused when it landed on her face, his pupils exacting and calculating. "Does he always talk to you like that?"

That wasn't what she expected of this inquisition. She suddenly felt uncomfortable under his eyes.

"Sometimes," she answered, trying to keep her features a blank slate, "Only when I mess up, though. It's not a big deal, I never listen anyway."

His gaze was unflinching, unwavering. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said automatically, no longer wanting to speak of her father or his words. "Anyway, I feel like he's just going to open a foundation in my name or something—that's his big idea. He does it every once in a while, just to make us all look charitable."

Harry traipsed his eyes over her form, taking in every detail of her body language and every minute frame of an expression. She felt exposed the longer he watched her.

Eventually—finally, finally—he released her, standing from his station on the arm of the couch with a sigh. "Whatever he comes up with, I'll be there, yeah? We'll work it out together."

Even Francesca, her best friend and closest person, hadn't been able to promise what Harry was giving her. She knew he really would be there with her, every step she took now coming with a pair.

(Y/N) allowed a gentle smile to bloom on her features, watching as he softened some.

"Yeah."

—————

Unable to help herself, still curious to the fact this person had found her Paris address, (Y/N) opened the flap to the newest letter that had been dropped in her mailbox.

The admirer's newest perspective came in high quality photos from the club. There were photos of her dancing with Marc—though his face was marred with markings she was too scared to investigate further. There were photos of her sipping drinks with Francesca and Emma before the night devolved, Harry noticeably cropped from the shots though (Y/N) knew he wouldn't have been that far away. Similar markings to what had marred Marc's face reappeared, this time sketching around her face in rudimentary hearts and shapes. Those made her feel the most queasy.

On the backside of some of the photos, it seemed this person felt they had inside information, claiming to know she hadn't wanted to dance with Marc. They apparently knew she hadn't wanted to go out at all, that she was much too private for this kind of scene and someone had to be forcing her to do this for some reason. It hadn't been her fault that she had stiffed the table (a fact that was far from the truth, seeing as how no one from the club had contacted her or Francesca. Something had to have been worked out). It hadn't been her fault that she left with Harry the way she did, curled into his arms and clinging to him like a vine. She would have never touched him if it was up to her own accord—at least that's what the admirer claimed.

Everything was written in short, messy sentences, barely legible as if written with the author's non-dominant hand. The rest of the story lay in the typed letter she knew was tucked inside the envelope, the musings of someone determined to fit her into the box of their liking.

Her palms felt sweaty as she looked at a photo of her face, the lens having zoomed in to catch the pucker of her lips around the cocktail straw, eyes glazed in alcohol.

How someone had snuck a camera in and Harry hadn't noticed—or at least mentioned it to her—she didn't know. And a part of her didn't want to.

It was easier to ignore this whole thing, she decided. Bundling the pictures back into the envelope, (Y/N) rushed to place it in her room, the bottom drawer of her vanity gaining a new addition.

—————

Staring at her phone, (Y/N) couldn't feel anything but dumbfounded as she reread her father's messages.

Dad

I have a friend from the country club that is interested in taking you out on a date. He's planning on flying out to Paris by the end of the week, and I expect you to go out to dinner with him, to show him and the world why a man like him would be willing to go out with you.

He's a successful philanthropist with a good reputation. I think he's the perfect person for you to get to know, and learn how to behave with. It will be good for you to be seen with him.

Be on your best behavior.

This was not at all what she could have ever imagined his big plan would be. More than a little far off from the suspected charity Gala that would be thrown in her name.

She'd been set up before with the sons of investors and introduced to men he thought would help further him in his dealings. All of those instances had been made in the name of his business—made for his best interests. Never had he set her up with the intention of strengthening her reputation or showcasing her for nothing other than publicity.

Though, from the way her father spoke, she doubted the other man knew it had anything to do with her reputation. As far as he knew, he was being set up with a friend's darling daughter for a romantic evening in Paris.

The thought had (Y/N) cringing.

She was supposed to go on a date? To convince people she wasn't a bitch?

(Y/N) was angry. Uncomfortable. Upset. Anything that was the opposite of happy was pulsing through her veins. What was her father thinking?

Did Harry know anything about this?

Heavy in her middle, (Y/N) wanted to rush to Harry's side, ask him if he knew anything about these plans. If he did, she wanted to assure him that she had no feelings tied to this man or this date—that he was nothing to her mind. She wanted to tell him she didn't want to go on this date, that she was being forced to see another person despite having purely opposite feelings.

She wasn't sure why exactly she felt it was so important to make that much clear, but it was enough to get her off of her bed and out to the living room.

Sitting on the couch, was Harry with a book in his hand, the cover showcasing the name of a famous French designer. He bookmarked his place with a finger as he looked up at her, taking in her shower-softened form and silky pajamas on her form.

"Going to bed?" he asked, the gauzy curtains having been dropped around the windows to the balconies.

Suddenly, she felt a bit silly having bustled out of her room the way she did. What did it matter if Harry thought she wanted to go on a date with this man? Why would he care about who she dated? All he needed to know was where she was going and if he would be needed for security.

"In a minute, but—um—" she started, fiddling with her phone in her hands.

Shifting on the cushion he'd taken up, he narrowed his gaze with a pinch to his brows. Properly marking his spot, he left his novel to be placed at his side, the full of his attention placed on his client.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" His gaze skipped over her form, examining for any bit of her that needed his help.

"I'm okay," she assured, shifting on her feet, "It's just..." Harry waited patiently-impatient, unwavering eye contact. "My dad texted me," she blurted.

"Yeah?" he pressed, his elbows setting on his knees as he leant towards her, "What did he say?"

Swallowing, she tried to shrug in nonchalance. "You know how he said he had an idea after those pictures of us at the club?" she questioned, listening for Harry's hum of acknowledgment before continuing, "I guess his side was to set me up with someone he knows from the country club. For a date. This weekend."

Forcing the words through her throat, she watched and waited for Harry's reaction. Though he was much better than she ever would be as keeping a poker face, everything internalized.

"Yeah?" was his only response.

"He said this guy has a really good reputation, with charities and all. He's hoping that being seen with him will help make me look better—PR and all." She struggled around the next bit of information, unwilling to say it out loud as if it would make it real. "I think he really wants me to date him, though—this friend. I don't think he knows my father's setting it up the way he is.

Contemplative and deliberate like always, Harry waited before pressing, "Do you know this man? Or would this be the first time you meet him—for this date?"

"I-I'm not sure who it is, but if I knew him already I think my father would have said so. I think this weekend would be the first time." She was more than embarrassed the more he asked. What kind of child had to be set up on playdates so they learned how to behave?

"This isn't the same man that made you uncomfortable before, then?" Harry's voice suddenly held an edge, recalling Barron at the 132 Gala.

"No, not him."

"Okay," he mused, the gears in his brain almost visibly grinding away as he thought through every and any scenario. "Do y'want me to be there with you?"

The edge of her phone case became the most interesting thing in the room then, her fingers picking at the molding. She swallowed, remembering that trapped, angry feeling she had when she read his messages the first time.

"I don't want to go at all," she started, fitting her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know, maybe we could go out this week, and I'll make a scene or something? It could make him mad enough that he calls the whole thing off, and we won't have to deal with it at all."

"No, we're not doing that," Harry immediately intervened, frustration lacing through his tone, "'S not worth him getting upset with you over."

"I know," she told him, a defeated slope to her shoulders, "But, I don't want to go. Especially not with him—whoever he is. I-I'd rather stay with you."

The air softened around them as the words hung between them. Peeking through the fan of her lashes, she caught the easy stare he gave her.

"It's going to be alright, (Y/N)," he assured her, his frustration having melted into something soft and pliable, "I'm going to be there with you."

"I'm sorry," she reflexively shared, her tongue working before her brain.

"What for?"

For going on a date with someone that isn't you.

"I don't know," she answered, "For taking up your weekend with something stupid, I guess."

"And what else would I have done instead?" Harry countered, his tone anything but biting, "Y'act like I'm not here jus' for you."

While she knew he didn't mean it the way it sounded, there was a small hand in her heart that clutched at the idea.

"Don't worry about it for now, yeah? Jus' sleep on it, and we'll take again in the morning. If there's anything else we can do, we'll figure it out then. Okay?"

He was always so in control, the voice of reason she lacked in these moments.

"Okay. Thank you."

"I've got you," Harry answered simply, reaching for his book once more. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

Sparing one last glance at her bodyguard huddled on the sofa of her Parisian apartment, fashion book in hand, (Y/N) inched towards her bedroom feeling a touch lighter.

"Goodnight, Harry."

—————

s'entendre is a French word for the feeling of understanding someone; to get someone

only a few more parts! thank you sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas or whatever please send them in!

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starsluver · 3 months

Text

One of your girls| Theo Nott

Warnings: making out, smoking, curse words, toxic relationship kinda, both people being HELLA bipolar

Summary: Theo decides to start hooking up with Mattheo's sister until she asks to be public..

Being in love with your brother's best friend is the most complicated thing. Mattheo's already told Selena and Theo separately that nothing could happen between you two.

But did either of you listen? Fuck, no. Selena's been hooking up with Theo for the past two months. And fuck did it feel amazing, sure they weren't able to hang out publicly but that didn't stop them from going to amusement parks and malls together.

As soon as the sun went down they were able to have the moments they couldn't during the day, but how long did they have to do this for until they could be official? How long did Selena have to lie to the only person who knows her best?

Selena is by the window in her bedroom, smoking a cigarette that she stole from Mattheo's room until she hears a knock on her door. She quickly puts it on the floor and smashes it with her kitten heel slipper. "Come in!" Theo opens the door and steps inside, smiling.

He sees the cigarette on the floor, he chuckles a little. "you couldn't have just thrown it in the bin?" He remarks jokingly, shutting the door behind him. "I thought you were Mattheo," Selena says as Theo sits beside her on the bed. "Nope. Though I was wondering why he'd bother to knock in his own house." Theo leans on his arm, looking at Selena with eyes of lust and desire. Selena was always really hard to read but that didn't stop Theo, she said nothing back to him. He let out a frustrated sigh, "What's wrong?" "I don't know, you tell me" Selena says sarcastically, Theo rolls his eyes. "Okay, smartass..." He pushes himself off the bed and picks up another cigarette from off the floor. "I thought you said you didn't like smoking,"

"What are you gonna do? Tell my brother? He wouldn't do anything unless I tell him that his best mate is hooking up with his sister" Theo raises an eyebrow at her again like he doesn't believe what she's saying. "You seriously think he wouldn't care? He'd kill me if he knew."

"But seriously, what's wrong baby?" Baby. The one word that could make Selena completely break down. "Us! I don't know how long I can keep our relationship or whatever the fuck we are from everyone! I want to be with you! You make me feel all special and loved but the next day you're with my brother like nothing happened!" Theo runs a hand through his hair and bites his lip.

"Look," he says in a serious tone. "We've talked about this. We both know it wouldn't work. Mattheo's my best friend and it would just cause a conflict between us all if we-" "I saw you with Astoria" Selena cuts him off as another tear stains her cheek, Theo's jaw clenches. Looking away and then lets out a long sigh. "That's different...." he mutters

"How the fuck is that different, Theo?! She was all over you but when I talk to Cedric for a damn project, you punch him!" "Well- it's just- look, y'know you're different." He pauses, not knowing how to put it into words. "You'll never be just an option to me. She's just an option. I can switch from girl to girl but nothing can make me switch from you." Theo puts his hand on her cheek as the other runs through her hair. "but there's always gonna be other girls, right?"

"yeah..." Theo looks away. This wasn't the best time time to tell her but he couldn't lie to her anymore. "But there's no girl who can make me feel the way you do." "y'know that, Sel" Theo says as he grabs her chin and lifts her face to meet his eyes. "I mean why do you think I don't want to be with you? I don't wanna hook up with a bunch of random girls. I want you. I always have"

"then why am I a secret?" Selena says as her mascara runs down her face. "Selena....." Theo sighs "I just......." He pauses, thinking back to the conversation with Mattheo. Then, he wipes the tears off of her face. "I know that things are just a little complicated right now...."

“Can I ask you something?” he suddenly says, his tone now very soft and gentle. “why are you still trying to go on about us when we both know where this is going? you’re only going to end up hurting yourself.”

"but I want you, Theo. I want us to be the same even when the door isn't closed" Theo takes Selena into his arms as she curls into his lap." me too, Selena," he says in a sincere tone, taking her hands in his. “believe me, if there was a way for us to be together I’d do it.” he pauses, running his thumb along the back of one of her hands. “and do you think I haven't felt this way about you? I want you but I just can't ruin what I have with Mattheo..”

"you won't, he'll be way more mad that I'm hurting myself over you than being with you" Selena tries to convince Theo, He takes a deep breath as he rubs her shoulder gently. "Selena, you're gonna be okay," he says in a soft tone. "you're gonna meet some other handsome guy. and he'll fall in love with you and everything will work out. just not me."

"I don't want anyone else, don't leave. Theo, I want you" Selena panics as she begins to tear up again "…I want you too. but—“ he pauses, struggling to find the words to explain to her why he couldn’t be with her.

“I can't.” he takes a deep breath and starts to pull away. “I’m sorry Sel.” "Theo, please" Selena says as she hugs Theo tighter. he tenses up a little, not expecting the hug. But he hugs her back, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. “we can’t do this,” He whispers into her ear, trying really hard to not feel anything.

"I don't care," Selena sobs, Theo lets out a heavy sigh and his muscles loosen. “Selena, stop…” He says gently, running his hand through her hair and pulling her face up to meet his eyes. “We talked about this. this isn't going to work."

"I wanna be one of your girls, Theo" Theo swallows hard, biting his lip. “I know you do…” he looks away, his eyes dropping down to her mouth. It hurt to hear her talk about herself like that but she wasn’t wrong.

a silence hangs between them, the only noise being their breaths. "then let me," “Selena…” Theo says almost pleadingly, pulling her closer to him. He wants to. More than anything he wants this. but.. “don't you see this is just gonna end badly?”

"I don't care if it ends badly, I just don't want to end now"Theo frowns, feeling his heart aching for her. If only he could be selfish right now. He closes his eyes and rubs his thumb across her cheek, pulling her closer to him again. “are you sure..?” Theo whispers into her neck. Selena nods,

"I love you, Theo" Theo shivers as Selena's words sink in. This wasn’t good. He could still back out of this. But he didn’t want to.

“I love you too.” Theo leans in, pressing his hands against her waist as he kisses her softly. Her lips tasted like strawberries, Theo slowly pulled her closer. His hands moved up Selena's back and held onto her waist. Every few seconds he pulls away to look into the depths of her brown eyes, Selena runs her fingers through Theo's hair.

He groans softly as he leans in to kiss her neck, pulling her closer by her hips until they both hear Selena's door creak open

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott #theo nott angst #theo nott fluff #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x oc #Spotify

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totheblood · 1 year

Note

Helloo :D

Can you do hcs of what it would be like to be friends w benefits with ellie 🫣

a/n: i been waiting on this one ngl... fwb is like the best and worst trope to me... IM SORRY IM SO SICK IN THE HEAD I LOVE U TOXIC ELLIE... also this is modern!ellie.. if this isn't what u meant then im so sorry and i will rewrite it.. not smut but smutty? AI AUDIOS AT THE END

p,s. i lost this when i finished it cause tumblr is the worst and i had to rewrite it so this is a testament of how much i love you guys and i am so sorry if u hate it

fwb!ellie headcanons

it kind of just happened one night after your friends abandoned you at a party and ellie offered to walk you home

you were always close friends with ellie but had gone to the party with a different friend group

...your straight friend group

and you were touch-starved

and ellie was TOUCH-STARVED

so when your tipsy ass asked ellie if she wanted to come inside with you she couldn't say yes fast enough

if she was being honest she was tipsy too

and high

and the alcohol coursing through both of your systems just amplified every touch

it would start gentle with soft kisses

but quickly pick up pace as you moan into her mouth

she wouldn't even make it to your bedroom, pushing you up against the wall and kneeing you

your moans only cause her to want to feel you, her asking for permission before ever touching you

her hands eagerly undo your belt before snapping the waistband of your panties with her fingers

she dips her fingers into your underwear, quickly rubbing circles into your clit

"shit... i'm barely touching you and you're already soaking wet."

"fuck, ellie."

"fuck, you feel so good... this all for me?"

but promptly after fucking you ellie feels sick to her stomach

it's like the reality that she has now fucked her very close friend, who she has always thought was pretty, hits her all at once

so she's quickly throwing her t-shirt on and frantically looking around your place for her flannel

"you're leaving?"

you break her out of her trance and as she looks at your swollen lips and worried eyes her brain is telling her: run, run, run

if it wasn't clear before ellie has no idea how to deal with her feelings

like at all

all she really knows how to feel is guilt & horniness

"yeah well, this wasn't anything serious... we're just friends, right?"

"right, yeah, i know that. it's just really late and cold. you can take the couch.

"right... thanks."

yes, ellie is disappointed that you weren't disappointed and yes, that's toxic

but you were disappointed and there is no way in hell you would be caught dead admitting that

ellie is gone by the morning

it continues every night for about a month straight

one of you is either calling or texting and ending up in the other's bed night after night

ellie will occasionally spend the night (on your couch) and wake you up for your morning classes

or wake up early and buy you breakfast

she tells herself that since she's not cooking the breakfast it doesn't make it coupley

sometimes you two will go out for dinner beforehand... it's not a date it's what ellie likes to call a 'pre-workout snack'

you two will study together and celebrate your grades on tests by trying new things out with each other

"you got an A-? so i'm getting fucking lucky tonight… hell yea"

soon enough she's leaving every party with you

and waiting by the phone for you to call

and thinking about what you are doing

or what you are wearing

and it's all really nice

until it begins to overwhelm her and suddenly she feels like she can't breathe

she didn't like how everyone began to call you a "couple" or how much it bothered her when you would talk about people you were attracted to

or how she wanted to punch their faces in

so she begins to avoid all your texts and calls and avoids going to every party she's invited to

she doesn't even check your social media anymore

it all comes to a head when she's walking on campus and spots you coming from the opposite direction causing her to immediately turn around

"hey, ellie! what the fuck?"

she turns around, an awkward look on her face and all she manages to say is: "what's up?"

"what's up? what's up is that you've been avoiding me. all my texts and calls. what gives?"

"i'm just over it. it got too... close.. for me. you're not my girlfriend so stop acting like you are!"

the minute it leaves her mouth and she watches your face shift from anger to sadness she feels sick to her stomach

"wait, i didn't mean it l-"

"fuck you, ellie."

she goes home and has to stop herself from throwing up

she has no one to talk to about this because she knows she's being an asshole

to make matters worse all she really wants to do is talk to you about it

and she can't

so she just wallows in her apartment and avoids you as much as she can

until she can't

her heart nearly stops when she receives a call from you in the middle of the night and you're crying on the other end asking her to pick you up

"ellie, i'm so so sorry... i wouldn't do this to you if i didn't have a choice but they all left me and i didn't know who else to call and... i need you."

"sh, it's okay... hold on, baby. i will be right there. everything will be okay."

she blows through a couple of stop signs on the way to get you and her heart breaks at the sight of your tear-stained face

"hey, are you o-"

"please just drive, ellie."

ellie takes you back to your place and you fully expect her to leave but she helps you upstairs, takes off your makeup, and tucks you in

you fully expected her to leave but when you wake up she's there in your kitchen

and she made you breakfast

"ellie, what are you d-"

"hey, you're up. do you think you could sit down, have some eggs, and just listen to what i have to say? can you do that?"

"um, sure?"

she takes a deep breath before starting and you make note of how she avoids eye contact with you

"i'm not good at this… or i thought i wasn't good at it and it scared the shit out of me. my whole world became you and i was looking forward to seeing you, and talking to you, and touching you, and i got so scared that it could all get taken away at any moment. so scared that i just sabotaged the one good thing in my life. i'm so sorry, is there anyway you could forgive me?"

"of course i can, you freak"

ai audios:

#asked & answered #Anonymous #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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colonelarr0w · 1 month

Note

I love your writing so much!!

Can I request some comfort Sukuna where he finally breaks down the walls around readers heart who has been hurt previously years before…reader made him wonder why they didn’t ever let him see them cry before and that bothered him.

Sypnosis - Love wasn't for everyone, you had long since accepted that fact. But ... were you really okay with being alone?

Warning(s) - None besides mature themes and some foul language.

A/N - Oh my god I loved this request so much. Reader is definitely a little bit too much like me in this one, but it's okay because at least she somewhat fixed her issues!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Love wasn't for everyone.

That was a hard pill to swallow, but it was one that you had swallowed after so many years of being constantly disappointed. One after the other, it was as if the heavens above were taunting you. Either that, or they were punishing you for some heinous crime.

Even though you wanted so desperately to experience what everyone else did; stolen glances, random flowers, gentle kisses, passionate sex, late-night dates … you had just come to the conclusion that no matter what you did, it just wasn't for you.

And you were okay with that.

Yet, it was annoying to then hear others come to you spewing their bullshit.

"You just haven't met the one yet!" "Don't worry, love will come to you when you least expect it."

"Trust me. The moment that you stop looking for love, it comes to find you."

"You're quiet," Sukuna says harshly, dropping his finished cigarette onto the ground and snuffing out its orange hue with the toe of his boot. Your head jerks upward, blinking for a moment before you clear your throat – you hadn't meant to fall into a daydream.

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm okay," you answer quickly, lifting your own half-finished cigarette to your lips and inhaling. You hoped that the smoke would ease your nerves, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Sukuna's eyes roam over your figure, his mind taking notes on your expression and body language. Your eyebrows are pinched together, eyes flickering to look at anything but him, your lips are turned downward in a frown that he somewhat wishes would go away. Your shoulders are stiff, back standing as straight as a line. Your hands are shaking.

"Tch," he clicks his tongue, turning his body and half-stepping towards you. His fingers close over your wrist, pulling the cigarette away from your lips. "You're a shitty liar."

Your eyes cast themselves to the ground, embarrassment heating your cheeks. He falters, but he toes out your cigarette anyway, then turning to face forward again – he doesn't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks after a beat of silence, hanging his arms over the railing of your apartment's balcony. Your eyes flicker to him for a moment, silently admiring the way that the moonlight illuminates his face and the tattoos inked into his skin.

"Nothing that would interest you."

Not when it comes to you. Talk to me, he wants to say. But the words fall dead on his tongue. He doesn't turn his head to look at you, only humming in acknowledgement.

Another beat of silence passes over you and Sukuna. It gets you wondering … did he even like being around you? After all, the only reason why he kept meeting you after work was because he had offered you a ride home. In return, you offered him cigarettes. A fair trade.

"Interesting or not," he hesitates, biting his tongue, "'s not good when you keep all that stuff in."

You freeze, hands tightening their hold on the railing as you stare out at the cityscape. Already you can feel tears beginning to gather along your waterline. You try your hardest to swallow them away, but nothing.

"I-I said it was fine," you manage to choke out, trying to subtly wipe at your eyes. Sukuna notices … he always did.

He reaches into his pocket for something, then nudging your arm with a handkerchief closed between his fingers. You take it, mumbling a quiet thanks before wiping your eyes with it. "I'm sorry."

Sukuna doesn't answer, he doesn't have to. It's more of a silent understanding that yes, something is bothering you, but in your own time you would open up to him about it. Maybe it wouldn't be tonight, maybe it wouldn't be tomorrow … but eventually, you would.

He shrugs in response to your apology. "Nothin' to apologize for."

Another beat of silence passes over you both, this one more comfortable than the last. Sukuna reaches into his pocket, taking out the cigarettes that you had given him. He opens the box with his thumb, hesitating on taking another one out.

You eye the box out of the corner of your eye … it was the only reason he even came into your apartment, wasn't it?

To your shock, he drops the box off of the edge of the balcony, watching it through half-lidded eyes as it falls out of sight. You turn your head to look at him, finding him already staring at you.

Neither of you say anything.

One minute turns into two, two into four, four into six.

"Y'know, I get the whole … wanting to be alone thing," Sukuna says, turning away from you so that he wouldn't have to look at your slightly pained expression. He leans further against the railing, gaze focusing on the blinking lights of a nearby billboard.

"You can tell yourself all you want that you want to be alone," he finally turns to you, "but do you really want that?"

You freeze, eyes wide like a deer that had been caught in headlights. Blankly, you stare at him, mind struggling to mull over what he had just asked you.

Did you really want to be alone?

"I-" You pause, swallowing the lump that had settled in the center of your throat. "I don't."

With that, Sukuna swallows all of his pride and tugs you into his arms. You fold into him, nails biting into the back of his leather jacket – the one that reeks of smoke and of must. But at the same time, those two comforting smells remind you that right now, in this moment, you aren't truly alone.

Do y'all want a part two of this? Or like a series of Sukuna and !Non-Trusting girlfriend?

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna fanfiction #sukuna ryomen fanfiction #sukuna fanfiction

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a-small-safe-place · 2 months

Text

His Haven: Part 4

Part 1 2 3

Homelander x Psychiatrist!AFAB!Reader Content⚠️: This does have smut. Masturbation, mentions of oral sex, light fingering, hand job, praise kink, very light implications of edging, penis in vagina.

Your meetings with Homelander continue as normal. You've made it clear that if he doesn't comply with your boundaries, he will be transferred to a new psychiatrist, and he has done well to stay within the professional boundaries.

"Tell me about how you grew up, Doctor," Homelander says. He is looking out of your office window with his hands behind his back.

"I'm not able to discuss that. Boundaries, remember?" you say sternly to avoid leading him on. He scoffs, irritated.

"It's always these fucking boundaries. Always with the red tape with you. I'm the strongest supe in the world; there aren't any boundaries I can't break or cross." That gives you an idea of what mood he is in. Did Stan put him in his place, or was it Madelyn this time? Either way, he always brings up that he's the strongest supe out there and that he can do what he wants when one of those two has upset him.

"Is something specific bothering you today?" you ask, ignoring his comment.

"Maeve broke up with me. Madelyn is cooking up some story for the public." He takes a sharp breath in. "Maeve didn't like that I was sleeping with other women, but she wasn't giving me what I needed. Sure, we had sex, but neither of us was interested in it. And for the past months, you've let me be me when no one else will." He stutters a few times during his speech. He turns to look at you. Homelander expects you to say something.

"Did Maeve say why she broke it off? You two were together for a while," you ask, not wanting to encourage poor habits.

"I said we weren't interested in the sex we were having. I'm a man; I have needs," he plainly says, as if the fact he was cheating is normal and okay. Most people would assume Homelander is shallow for cheating, but it's clear there's more to it. Unfortunately, sex isn't something you could ask Homelander about because that could give him the wrong impression.

"I would say most potential romantic partners wouldn't be too happy about your needs being fulfilled by other people," you tell him to let him know you're condemning his unfaithful behavior.

He scoffs. "Please, any woman would be lucky to have me." Homelander stares at you for a second. He's studying you; maybe he's x-raying you or trying to notice any subtle changes.

"Problem?" you question.

"No-no. I just… was thinking." Homelander can't tell you he wants to crash his lips onto yours. He can't say that he wants to feel up your breasts and get you out of that blouse you wear all the time. He can't say that he wants to pull you close and then fuck you on your desk. He knows he would cum fast being inside you for the first time, but Homelander also knows you'd be just as satisfied, if not more. Homelander can't tell you that your arousal smells so strong to him he can practically taste it.

Homelander suddenly leaves. He has to get away from you. He flies high into the sky, passing the area where a plane would be flying. In the sky, he feels alone. Homelander breathes in. He wonders if you'd ever trust him to bring you this high where only true gods can be. Of course, Homelander would make sure you're safe. He would take you high enough that the thin air was a thrill for you. He slides his pants around his thighs. Not enough for them to fall off, but enough for him to have access to his dick that's been hard since you condemned him for cheating on Maeve. You could be so stern but such a fucking tease.

Homelander begins to stroke himself. He starts slow, making sure his hand isn't wrapped too tightly. You're in his mind right now; he knows you'd be so slow with your strokes. You'd tell him how good he was doing the longer he could keep it together. Homelander strokes faster. He has no control to keep going slow, but you would. Your soft touches and soft praises would drive him crazy; they would drive him over the edge.

He says your name; he sounds like he's begging. "Please," he says with an almost pained expression. Homelander needs you, but his hand will have to do for now. The stimulation from his hand and the way you plague his mind are too much, and his cum shoots into the sky.

Homelander feels a lot of different emotions upon his release. You should be fucking begging him to even glance at you. He feels somewhat pathetic being so under your thumb. He feels fucking pissed because the semen he just shot so high in the sky should have been on your breasts, face, or somewhere inside you, not falling worthlessly to the earth. You should be the one begging for his attention the way he begged you to let him cum in his fantasy.

Homelander flies back to his penthouse. He feels more determined than ever to have you in all the ways he wants you. Maeve is no longer holding him back from a real relationship, and Madelyn wouldn't be upset because she seems to like you. After his abrupt exit, Homelander doesn't visit you for any more appointments that week.

The following week arrives, and you have yet to see Homelander anywhere. You're leaving a session with another client when you walk into your lobby and see the prettiest bouquet of your favorite flowers. A card with your name proudly sticks out. Your receptionist is gone, and the lobby is empty.

"Your receptionist almost refused to tell me what your favorite flowers were. I guess she wasn't willing to die to keep your secret," Homelander says, sounding playful, walking out of the men's restroom and effectively startling you. "I just heard that little heart of yours jump."

"Homelander, this is crossing a boundary," you say, trying to sound stern, but the shakiness of your voice tells Homelander that you're nervous.

"Enough with the fucking boundaries. I'm tired of being a fucking patient and having to throw a tantrum every time I want you to look at me. I'm not your patient anymore. I dropped you. Now, we can have what we have both been wanting." He circles you like you're his prey. "Your receptionist is out for the day. I told her you canceled your other appointments so that I could have my time with you. And then I had her send out that automated email to those psychos you insist on surrounding yourself with." He seems proud of himself, as if he's accomplished something huge, and now you cannot deny him what he wants.

"What makes you think I'm even interested in you?" you ask him with a glare.

"Don't be like that. Even right now, I can smell how aroused you are. If I left right now, you'd probably scamper home and immediately spend the night with that pink vibrator in between your legs." Homelander has such a love-hate relationship with that thing. He's watched you use it a lot, and you're moaning his name most of the time, but that toy isn't him, so he hates it.

You blush, but not in an attractive way, either. Your whole face heats up. "How do you know about that?" you ask, exasperated.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that you want me to fuck you. Tell me that you're not attracted to me. Tell me that you wouldn't be opposed to me fucking you in your office right now. Say you don't, and I'll leave you alone about it." Homelander has no intention of leaving you alone, no matter your response.

You stay quiet, avoiding his gaze. You suddenly walk into your office. He follows. "God, you're such an ass!" you tell him. Homelander presses himself against you and presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss. He's desperate, and that makes it hard to go slow. You reciprocate and match the desperation. He doesn't taste like anything, which is a testament to how clean Homelander likes to be in his everyday life. You, on the other hand, are sweet. His hand quickly finds your breasts as if you'd decided to take them away. Homelander breaks the kiss.

"Your blouse is in the way. So is your bra." He quickly removes your top clothing that had become a hindrance. His hands are nimble, but the cold leather of his gloves is ruining the moment.

"Can you take off your gloves?" you ask. Homelander doesn't hesitate to lose them, and his bare hands are now able to feel the warmth of your breasts. Your nipples are pointed. That's a good sign. He dips his head, sucking and kissing anywhere his lips can land on your breasts. One of his hands finds its way to rest on your hand.

"I'm ready for you," you tell him breathlessly. Your cunt is soaked from the reaction Homelander is giving.

"You're delicious. I've been desperate to fuck you since I walked into your office." He drops his pants but pointedly leaves the top half of his super suit on. He trusts you, but he still isn't comfortable showing you the parts of him that he's most embarrassed about. He pulls your skirt and panties off and immediately rubs slow circles around your clit. He watches your face, trying to decipher if you're enjoying that movement.

"I like that. Keep going. You're doing so well," you encourage Homelander. He guides your hand to his hard cock, and just like he imagined, your strokes are slow. He could cum in your hand so easily if you would just go a little faster.

Before either of you can cum, he flips you over and shoves you down into the desk. Homelander tries to be gentle, but he's so eager to be inside you. You spread your legs a little more to give him better access. He begins thrusting in and out of your wet cunt.

"You feel so good. It feels better than I imagined," Homelander groans out, enjoying the feeling of your body being wrapped around his. His hands explore your bare back. His thrusts begin to become more hasty and desperate.

"I can feel that you're close," you tell him breathily. You can't see it, but Homelander's face turns red. He is embarrassed that you haven't come yet, and he's almost at the edge of his orgasm.

Homelander throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to wait." He wants to tell you that you feel that good and that even if he does finish before you, he will make sure you reach the same heights of pleasure.

"It's okay, you're doing well." You reach around to find his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Homelander leans down and pulls you up so your back is pressed into his chest. He wants to be touching you as much as possible while he cums. Homelander's face finds the crook of your neck. He breathes in your smell. He wants to remember it forever, the smell of your natural scent mixed with his scent and both your arousal and his. Homelander hugs you tightly from behind, and with a sharp breath in and a following moan that's muffled by your skin, he's finished inside of you.

Homelander doesn't move for a moment. He wants to stay like this, to savor you in case you disappear as you had done so many times before in his intimate moments alone.

Homelander lets go of you and pulls out. You turn around and notice the tears streaking his face. He's not crying and doesn't seem to notice the tears. "Wow, that was intense," you tell him, sensing that it would be better not to point out the tear gloss on his cheeks.

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet, little lady," he says, trying to sound confident. You wonder if that "little lady" bit is his attempt to remind himself and you that he's in charge. Before you can bring it up, Homelander pushes you back up on the desk, and his head is dipping between your legs.

He certainly was not done with you. Homelander made sure that you enjoyed yourself in that office, and as you leave your office, you wonder what this means for your relationship. This wasn't a regular hookup. It couldn't be after the visceral reaction Homelander had during his first orgasm when he so desperately clung to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Homelander was already waiting at your apartment. He was going to show you the other benefits of his affection.

Tag List: @randomstuffthatdontmakesense @thevanityofthefox @z3r0art

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys fanfic #fem!reader #psychiatrist x character #female reader #reader x character #homelander smut #this is my first time writing actual smut #afab reader #homelander fanfiction #reader x homelander #i forgot i originally had a gender neutral reader #homelander x psychiatrist #homelander x you

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cyberfreaky · 8 months

Text

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY 彡 — KINKTOBER EDITION

— jake loves seeing his pretty girl cry, especially when it’s his fault.

tags: mean/toxic-ish!jake. sensitive!reader. p n v. clit stimulation. nipple stimulation. creampie. subtle breeding kink. daddy kink. dirty talk. pet names. mild dacryphilia. age gap (21 & 38). fingering. subtle tummy bulge.

masterlist ♡

it didn't take a genius to figure out your olo'eyktan favoured you most amongst the clan. he wasn't exactly subtle with his favouritism towards you, and he expressed it in several ways. giving you the easiest duties, plenty special treatment, being completely lax about your actions while scorning anyone else for doing the same. was it unfair? sure. but jake couldn't care less about what the anyone thought, and it wasn't like you were complaining about it, either.

these behaviours only brought the two of you closer, and jake had become more than your leader. you confided in him about anything and everything. he would happily listen to everything you'd vent, cry, babble or gossip about. you'd quickly grown to not just being his favourite amongst the clan, but his favourite person in general. jake loved the trust you held with him, how comfortable you'd become around him, the way you basically situated yourself permanently into his life. he adored you.

as much as jake loved you — pushing your buttons was something he couldn't help himself from doing. you were so easy to rile up and piss off, always giving jake the desired reaction he craved each and every time. it'd always end up with you sobbing, and he secretly enjoyed pushing you to that point.

it was the night after jake had made you cry for the millionth time. he’d claimed you weren’t the ‘prettiest’ girl in the clan, and boasted about how much more attractive the other women were. being the insecure girl you were - this destroyed you. and you’d avoided him all day, just like always. jake hadn’t bothered chasing you up and left you to your own devices. he’d make it up to you eventually, you never stayed away.

you were in your hut, wallowing in your own self-pity after yesterdays ordeal. you'd been avoiding jake all day, and it wasn't that difficult. surprisingly enough, he'd been doing the exact same to you.

you held your laundry in your arms, hanging them to dry on a makeshift drying line made of twine. it was positioned just outside the large opening in your hut, giving the morning sun the perfect opportunity to dry your tewngs and coverings once it rose the following morning.

just like clockwork, you felt a familiar presence in the doorway of your hut. there was a leering shadow that appeared on the floor, jake's scent was so acquainted with your senses at this point. you didn't bother to turn around and face him, refusing to give him even that little satisfaction. you continued on with your chores, a small pout on your lips while you worked in silence.

"still mad at me, huh?"

silence.

"sweetheart, i was jokin'. stop actin' like a child." jake sighed with annoyance, raking his fingers through his thick locs.

silence.

"y'know, you can't stay mad at me forever."

you scoffed at those words, knowing damn well you were just as stubborn as he was. while you kept your back to him, you did pipe up this time. "yes i can."

jake, being the man he was, took your response as a challenge. he entered into your hut with a smirk, taking a few strides over to where you hung your clothing. you were far too irresistible to walk away from.

his fingertips danced across your soft sides, circling across the smoothness of your azure skin. he was merely testing the waters and gauging your reaction to his touch - and you had gone with the route of simply ignoring him. jake found this comical, he had mesmerised your body to a T. only he could notice that very faint squirm, and that was invitation enough for jake to continue with his plan on earning your forgiveness.

"the silent treatment doesn't work with me, darlin'. y'should know this by now." jake says, embracing your smaller frame from behind and pressing his body against yours. his arms coiled around your waist, childishly interfering with your hands as you tried to hang your laundry.

it took everything within you not to smack his hands away, he kept purposely grabbing the fabric and trying to snatch it from your grasp. it didn't help that his chin was rested on your shoulder, chuckling lowly to himself as he watched your frustration grow by the second. it only heightened his excitement.

"i hate you." you grumbled at jake, though you made no effort to push him away. you gave up on doing your task after his annoying tactics made it nearly impossible.

"oh, you hate me? is that right?" jake mocked you lovingly, his breath warm on the nape of your neck. "don't kid yourself, hon. 'ya love me."

you both stood in front of the dark opening of your hut, your narrowed eyes staring off into the distance as you kept your anger in tact. you refused to let him get the upper hand of whatever this was - it wasn't fair in your eyes. he'd hurt your feelings, and now he thought he could fuck you as an apology. you wished jake would just apologise instead of trying to brush everything off with sex...though, you still made no attempt at stopping him.

"no, i don't."

jake found your stubbornness that even more enticing. his rough hands began to trail up your body, feeling every inch of your smooth exterior with his fingertips. "well, i love you. so damn much." he whispered in your ear, his voice had grown much more lustful than before. he peppered kisses behind the lobe, making it even harder for you to resist him.

you felt jake's touch creep up to your chest, moving beneath the thin fabric of your chest covering. your breath hitched as his hands cupped your full breasts, kneading the soft skin of your flesh. "i love your pretty tits." he drawled, his thumb toying with your hard nipple.

an involuntary whimper escaped your throat, feeling yourself growing weaker in jake's arms. he kept his lips trailing across your neck and shoulder, gently nipping at the skin as his fingers pinched the sensitive nubs.

while jake massaged one of your tits, his other hand made it's way down to your tewng. just from his subtle touch alone, your arousal was already seeping through the fabric. your body jerked as jake palmed your wet cunt, his thumb pressing on your needy clit. you were puddy in his hands now, and there was no point in fighting back. his voice was low and sensual, almost groaning in your ear. "i love your sweet pussy."

"jake.." you warn him quietly, your knees buckling once his thumb began to rub circles into your bundle of nerves. you couldn't take it anymore, but still, you were adamant about standing your ground. "stop it." your voice was meek and breathless, still making no effort to push jake away.

"stop what?" jake smiled at your feigned hesitance, his long fingers exploring your sopping folds. he'd prod your entrance teasingly with two fingers, before sliding them inside your heat. "y'don't want me anymore or somethin'?"

your legs were on the brink of giving out, your golden eyes rolling back while jake fingered your cunt. "...y-you were mean to m-me yesterday..." you argued through breathless moans, biting harshly on your bottom lip as he began to pump his thick digits in and out.

jake would keep that slow, devilish pace - chuckling at your meek response. "don't be so sensitive, baby. you know i was kiddin'." he'd drawl, keeping that devilish pace between your soft thighs. you were so pathetic, a needy mess who couldn't even speak up for herself. jake loved it. "c'mon, let daddy make it up to you."

the older man could talk you into anything, that tone of voice and choice of words had you weak for him. of course you wanted him to make it up to you - of course you wanted him to fuck you dumb. why couldn't you have more backbone?

it wasn't long before jake had thrown you on the bed, the weight of his heavy body looming on top you. you could almost feel your breath restricting from the position, his bulky arms had you folded in half like a rag-doll. your soft thighs were pressed against your chest - taking every, rough thrust with shallow breaths.

"...auughh....f-ffuck, baby.." jake groaned, his forehead pressed against yours as he fucked you deep. your tight pussy had him seeing stars, the way you squeezed around his cock nearly made him cum right then and there. "...mm, couldn’t stay mad at me, could ‘ya?”

your sweet moans filled his ears, sharp nails clawing at his back while he pounded you relentlessly. jake could feel how good he was making you feel, how desperate you were for him. it'd made the older man smile as he leaned down to kiss you, swallowing those pretty sounds of pleasure.

the feeling was euphoric, his thick cock bullied into you harder and harder with each passing second. you had a hellish lock on jake's neck as he thrusted inside you, the ferocity of his movements causing your smaller body to jerk and bounce. you were like his little sex-toy, the perfect girl he could use whenever he wanted. and quite frankly? you didn't mind. you knew how easy you were.

"jesus...feel how deep daddy is." jake chuckled, taking your nimble hand and pressing it against your tummy.

you could feel his cock ramming inside you, the fat tip hitting your sweet spot and making you mewl in response. "o-oh my god." your eyes began to glaze over with tears, the pleasure was becoming almost overwhelming.

jake saw the tears roll down your flushed cheek, and the sight alone made his arousal peak. he picked up his pace, pounding you even harder as he watched you cry. "poor darlin', feels s'good, don't it?" he crooned meanly, his heavy balls slapping against your slick folds with every thrust. "yr'such a crybaby."

"..c-can't help it." you sobbed, your voice meek and breathless.

the older man smirked at your response, pressing his warm lips on your cheek and gently lapping up your tears. "so pretty when you cry." he'd moan against your skin, his kisses finding their way to your mouth and locking lips with you once again.

you could both hear how wet you were, as jake pulled out slowly and slammed back into you. his own voice had become hoarse, hips jittering faintly as he felt his climax building inside. "christ...this pussy was made jus' f'me, huh?"

"s'all yours, daddy." you sniffled, amber eyes rolling back in your head as he kept hitting the one spot that made your toes curl.

you kept whimpering tiredly, your face nuzzled into jake's shoulder as he stretched your pussy out. you were barely receptive at this point, instead broken down into cries and blabbering moans. how could you speak at this point? jake had gotten the better of you. it didn't matter how many times he made you upset, you'd always end up getting fucked dumb as a result.

jake's hand caressed your jaw, grabbing it gently and forcing you to look into his eyes. "that's right. all mine." he grunted brutishly, keeping half-lidded eye contact with you while he stuffed you full.

that familiar twisting was brewing in the pit on your stomach, and your sweet release was so fucking close. it was a high you were chasing, and it was addictive. a few more hard strokes and you'd be gushing all over the bedsheets.

but you underestimated jake as always. he was an asshole.

the older man could feel your soft walls clenching around his twitching cock. his baby was so damn close, but he didn't feel like giving you that satisfaction just yet. jake suddenly slowed down his thrusts, going at at agonising pace that made you whine loudly in response. "faster!"

he grinned at your pleas, the tips of his canines grazing along the side of your neck. "nah." jake simply taunted you, nipping at your skin with that smug smirk. "wanna hear 'ya beg me."

your tears of frustration welled up once more, and you had put aside all embarrassment. it pained jake to pull himself out, his hips hovering above yours as his tip slid through your soaking folds. you were crying hellishly below him, feeling him rub and tease your clit. all with that damn smile on his face.

"p-please."

jake tsk'ed at your response, prodding your needy entrance again and refusing to slide back in. "gotta do better than that, hon." he drawled, taking in your screwed up expression and misty eyes. eywa, you were so beautiful. so needy. "c'mon, use yr'big girl words."

as he kept nudging your sensitive clit, you couldn't handle it anymore. "please fuck me, daddy!"

your face flushed with pure embarrassment, and you looked away in shame from speaking so lewdly. but it paid off once you heard jake chuckle lowly, giving your raw lips a soft kiss as he buried his cock deep inside you once more. "much better."

all that shame meant nothing once you felt jake pounding into you just like before. you moaned in his ear, the squelch of your dripping pussy grew louder as jake slammed his hips against yours. it was so rough and fast — the absolute perfect pace.

jake's brows furrowed as he felt his climax approaching, forehead pressed against yours once against as he fucked you like his own personal fleshlight. the older man's head dipped down to your chest, lips attaching to one of your soft tits and sucking at your hard nipple. the added stimulation made your back arch off the bed, forcing your breasts harder against his face.

you kept squeezing hellishly around his cock, indicating you were nearly there. jake wasn't far off either, and he made it clear with how rough his groans had become. "f-ffuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up." he whispered in your ear, his thrusts not faltering as his release rapidly approached. "y'want that, hm?"

"y—yes!" you nodded frantically, your nails digging so deep in his back that blood began to draw. "need it s'bad, daddy. wanna b-be stuffed."

that was all jake needed to hear.

he smashed his lips against yours again, wanting to stifle both your moans as you reached your orgasms in tandem. you were practically screaming, the high-pitched moans were silenced by his tongue shoving its way into your mouth. jake's eyes were screwed shut as his hips began to jitter, breaking off the kiss to catch his breath as spurts of his warm seed filled your pussy. you mewled at the sensation as you came hard, coating his thick cock in your milky cum.

jake's body fell on top of yours, neither of you able to speak as he continued to fuck his cum inside your creamy pussy. his movements were sluggish and languid, the sticky release dripping out of your hole and dripping onto the mattress below you. each thrust made you squirm, leaving you a sobbing mess beneath the older man.

his golden eyes would soon open, both your foreheads pressed against each others as he snickered tiredly. "you forgive me now?"

749 notes · View notes

m0uchie · 2 months

Note

Same person from the fem!Scara question!! I don't want to pressure you much tbh so sorry if I do I really am 😭🙏

Maybe like fem!Scara x fem!reader and you can choose if you want it to be fluff or smut I don't really mind either whatever you feel more confident with!❤️

⟡ you hate her (do you really?), but she’s the only way you can get better grades

— pairing : f!scaramouche x f!reader

— warnings : NSFW; humping; fingering; semi-public?; scara’s a bit degrading (she might say something hurtful but she also calls you “love”)

— a/n : don't worry about it, you're not pressuring me!! ;) ISTG IT WAS GONNA BE FLUFF WITH SOME SMUT AND ANGST AND SLOWBURN, BUT I GOT TOO HORNY IM SORRY!!!

The classroom was a mess again.

Every time it ended up like this, no matter how many different classes the two of you had together, she always managed to make friends in all of them, and her charm attracted people of all genders to her table.

Not that this fact bothered you, since you didn't have many friends in college. But it was different when she always sat next to you and talked in the middle of classes to whoever was next to her.

“Ah… excuse me, do you have a pencil?” You sigh, watching the interaction unfold in front of you. Your left cheek resting on your hand, and a girl with long indigo hair turns with a bright smile to hand the pencil to the colleague next to you.

As always, you were right to assume that it wouldn't end there. Soon the girl starts chattering about her life, exchanging phone numbers with flushed cheeks and biting her lips as she twirls a strand of green hair around her index finger. Scaramouche just responded with a smile and a nod, as usual. She was aware of her attractiveness to both boys and girls, but fooling around wasn't her focus at the moment. That's what she always said.

It irritated you how uncommunicative she was and yet it made her one of the most famous people around campus. Known for her perfect shiny hair, clean and soft skin, big round eyes and lashes that made her look like a doll. In addition to the perfect grades she got in every subject. There was nothing she was bad at, and yet, she still managed to handle her time perfectly to be so social, while also studying to the point of fainting. You don't quite know why though.

But despite everything, you didn't blame her, because deep down you knew it was your fault for not being like her, not being her. She would never know what was going on in your head, nor you in hers. And you’d never expose your dark thoughts for others to hear knowing how wrong you were for thinking that way. You would just have to stay as far away from her as possible. It wasn't that difficult, was it?

So why were you in the library, hugging Scaramouche's arm between your legs like a whore? Begging her to help you with your grades while wiggling your ass and looking at her with those puppy dog eyes like it was just an innocent offer?

To Scaramouche, you were nothing less than an ant. Hiding in the corner and focusing on writing down every single word the teacher said. In any case, your grades always fell and hers went up. Your frustrated expression whenever you received the results of a test and the crumpling of your trembling hands on the paper gave you away. She didn't care enough though, it wasn't her problem.

The different could be said about you, and she could almost feel sorry for those deep dark circles and those teary eyes, accompanied by the wet panties of someone whose pussy hadn’t been touched by an experienced hand in oh so long and someone who was willing to give everything in exchange for better grades and lessons by Scaramouche.

Her silly fingers taking advantage to ghost lightly above your heat, wondering why you wore such short and revealing skirts when you were a complete prude known for rejecting so many guys, almost forgetting your hopeful face desperately waiting for an answer.

Scaramouche's smile makes you swallow hard. She doesn't give you any comfort, despite the words she utters: “let's meet in the study room from now on then. Give me your number so we can choose the days for our meetings.”

You should be relieved, you will no longer need to turn to such low measures to get some alone time with the girl. You thought. But was it right to assume that she wasn’t gonna ask anything in return just because she hadn't responded to your offer to do anything for her? This was too easy.

The days when you were in the study room were peaceful. No one could hear anything from outside, just as you couldn't hear anything happening outside the room. Scaramouche was patient and explained you carefully, you hung on every word and it often left your mind in the clouds.

“Getting distracted, are we?” She said the first time, which made your face blush. Since when could a woman's voice get into your mind like that?

Calm wasn't the right word to describe how she sounded to you, because what your body felt was a hint of anything but calm in those moments.

“I brought some sweets. You like them, don't you? Let's take a coffee break."

And every time you were distracted, she would fill you with sweets and talk to you, keeping the atmosphere easy going and comfortable.

The week for your finals was approaching. Your anxiousness distracted you even more when you met, and Scaramouche tried to be as patient as possible through it. But with things going on at home and having to force a smile on her face at college all the time, she was at her limit.

It happened quite often. She’d put up with a lot of bullshit and the patience you started to grow familiar with, would wear thin the moment you ask her to explain the subject to you one more again. She’d make you be the one to pay for her headache this time.

And you did.

“Getting distracted again, are we?” Something in her voice changed, you couldn't wrap your mind around what. Maybe the hint of cynicism, or the gravity in the gentle tone she always carried in her voice. Something changed.

“‘M sorry… I’ll do better.” You apologized for the nth time in the same day, making Scaramouche's eyelid twitch in irritation.

“Well, I didn’t bring any sweets this time, isn’t that such a shame?” You slowly nod when she doesn't continue her speech and looks at you as if waiting for an answer before getting up and walking around your chair, standing behind it. “I’ll have to keep you busy some other way. Always being a dead weight.” She muttered the last part, but you could hear it anyway. Your heartbeat increasing dangerously when she sighs and holds your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks and turning it towards the giant mirror that was next to the study table.

“Weren’t you eager at first to give me something in return for teaching you? I want it now.” She demands, slowly releasing your face and reaching down to aggressively squeeze your breast through your clothes, making you gasp in surprise.

“You're so nervous that your nipples are hard all the time. Are you not aware of what a bra is, love?” Her hand makes space between the valley of your breasts. A tight strapless that made your torso so accessible to Scaramouche. Both for her touches and for her lustful eyes to see.

Her finger surrounds your hardened bud, while she lowers her other hand to your belly all the way to your pelvis and presses deliciously down there, making you throw your head back and lay on the girl's shoulder.

“If you eased your frustrations, you wouldn't be so worried about these stupid tests. Do you even touch yourself?” Your cheeks redden and you purse your lips together from embarrassment. “So… do you?” She asks again, clearly demanding an answer from you, and takes it as enough when you shake your head no.

“Too busy for that?” She scoffs, and all you want to do is stick your head under the ground. “It’s our break now, so you’re not wasting any time since we wouldn’t be studying right now anyway.”

She lifts your clothes over your breasts completely and takes off your skirt, leaving you in just your panties wetting the chair with the slick that coats your fabric.

“Look at this delicious tits…” she flicks your nipples between her fingers, getting your hips to press against your seat and your body squirm in need. “Always perk up like this or only when we meet?” She stares at you for a moment before laughing lowly. “You must not know, since you dress like a whore everywhere you go. And you still have to wonder why it attracts so much attention. Naive little thing.” You whine, pouting your lower lip and frowning to feign offense by her words, but it only makes her laugh.

Her hand goes down to caress the soaking area of what would be your panties, marked by your wet pussy, completely disabling the fabric and making you so uncomfortable under your clothes. Still, Scaramouche ignores your hopeless pleas to strip you out of your undergarments and start gently stroking your swollen clit. From time to time, squeezing it between her fingers to hear the sounds your mouth made. Your hand holds hers, trying to press it harder between your legs even though you feel instant shame the moment you see her smirk.

“Someone’s desperate. Go ahead and grind your little clit on my arm like you did that day, sweets.” She reminds you of the day you asked for her help in the first place, rubbing your clothed pussy against her arm when she just wanted to get a book. Likewise, you do as she asks, using both hands to hold her arm still and play with your clit on her soft skin.

The way you scrunch your beautiful face as she goes back to holding your face with one hand tightly so that you are forced to look at your reflection as you cover her arm with your juices, tears running down your face that drives her absolutely crazy to see the results inside your lacy panties. She reaches the limit when she hears you begging: “p-please, wanna cum so bad.” And press your hole to her fingertips in what would be a failed attempt to tear the fabric that separated the two of you.

“Shhh, let me see what you’ve done.” She tells you, kissing your temple and slipping down your underwear to take a look at your clenching walls. It takes her everything not to just fuck you with her skillful tongue right there, but she’s not giving you this time that easily.

With a goodbye kiss and perhaps a “see you another day” on your clit, she turns her head away from your intimacy. You don't even have time to reason and be disappointed before you feel her fingers playing with your entrance again, opening you up to the mirror and exposing everything to the two of you. Your essence went from your insides to down your ass, your aching red clit and your hole dying to be filled and she wasn’t gonna keep it from being played with.

You cover her mouth with awe as she circles your entrance with a finger, pushing it all the way in and keeping it there.

“Ohhh, it went right in~” she teases. “Can you take two at once?” And adds another one right after, without waiting for a response.

Your swollen bud remains ignored for a while, her fingers making long, deep back-and-forth movements quickly, only slamming her palm against the button for a second before pulling away. Wet noises were emitted by the amount of essence that came out of your pussy until Scaramouche was satisfied and pressed her palm on your clit to make delicious circles while her fingers explored your intimacy.

“You want to get off that badly, so I’m giving you what you want now.” She says, fresh breath hitting your neck from behind, kissing and nibbling the skin when she can. You moan loudly and turn your hand to hold onto the collar of her shirt, clenching harder around her fingers and biting your lower lip to suppress a scream when you feel yourself getting closer to your peak.

“Don’t hurt yourself like that, love.” She warns you, but your mind is too foggy to even focus on what's going on right now.

Clicking her tongue with impatience, Scaramouche lowers her head in front of your face and collides her lips with yours at the same time she buries her knuckles deep into your hole.

Your moans vibrate against her mouth as she swallows your beautiful sounds with her tongue. The pleasure is so overwhelming that your back arches and more tears fall down your face the moment you cum.

She does not hesitate to get down on her knees and lick everything off of you and her fingers before standing up, despite your strong grip on her shirt that tells her not to go away like that.

“You’ll have to do better next time so I can reward you then.” She fixes her tie in front of the mirror and throws her soft hair back, not knowing how excited for the next study session she was making you.

The question after all is: you wanna be her or do you wanna be hers?

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#꒰ requests ꒱ྀི #+18 content #fem!scaramouche #f!scaramouche #scaramouche au #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut

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jae-bummer · 1 year

Text

Safe Place

Request: lee know and 10? please? :)

Prompt:

10) "Just say you want me and I'm yours."

Pairing: Stray Kids Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Fluff

"I'm telling you, they're into you, man," Han gasped, smacking his knee for emphasis.

"Why would I care if they were?" Lee Know sighed, not even bothering to look up from his phone. It wasn't like your affections mattered to him.

Or at least that's what he told himself.

"Why would you-" Han breathed, his brows furrowed with exhaustion. "Don't you want to know if someone likes you or not?"

"It's not going to affect me either way," Lee Know said finitely.

It didn't matter if his stomach did an obnoxious little flip every time you entered the room. It didn't matter that you were literally better than any perfume (how could a human be his favorite smell?!) And it definitely didn't matter what Han said. He'd believe it when he heard it with his own ears. He wasn't opening himself up to hurt just for the hell of it.

"Just give up, Hannie," Hyunjin grumbled, plopping onto the couch beside his distressed member. "His heart is not going to grow two sizes this day."

"Watch your mouth," Lee Know said, his tone remaining bored. "I know where you sleep."

"If you haven't killed me yet, you're not going-"

Lee Know looked up with an icy glare.

"To give up trying," Hyunjin quickly finished after clearing his throat.

Nodding to himself, Lee Know looked back his phone. These two wouldn't catch him slipping today.

"He's crazy about you," Felix nodded, pushing another brownie in your direction.

Shaking your head as you pushed it back, you let out a small burp. "I can't do another one, Lix. I'm going to burst."

"Brownies aside," he hummed. "Are you going to acknowledge what I said?"

After a moment of silence, you sighed. "He can like me all he wants, but that doesn't mean anything unless he actually tells me."

Felix sucked on his bottom lip, lost in thought. He was probably thinking through what was on your mind as well. Was Lee Know capable of being vulnerable enough to even show that side to you?

"You've gotta make him feel safe," Felix nodded slowly. "He'll admit it if he knows he's not going to get his heart broken."

You pressed your face into your hands and groaned. "Have you stopped to consider one thing?"

"Hm?"

"Do I even like him like that?"

Felix stepped back, aghast. "What do you mean? Of course you do!"

"That sounds an awful lot like gaslighting," you grumbled.

He smacked a hand over his mouth before lifting his brows. "I just always assumed!" came out muffled from behind his fingers.

"Why would you assume that?" you laughed nervously, trying to deep dive in your recent memory of interactions with Lee Know. Sure, he was good looking. And yeah, he was a good listener.

And maybe you'd be the first to admit that when he did that crooked smile with the little nose crinkle you died a little inside, but otherwise, you were totally normal. He was totally normal. A possible love connection had never crossed your mind...not that often at least.

"You're just so..." Felix started before waving his hands in the air. "Around each other."

"Please explain what..." you laughed, mimicking his hand gesture. "Means."

"Squishy, cute, perfect together," he sighed. "He gets so giggly and soft when you're paying attention to him. He's only ever like that with us."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "I know you want us to be this cute little rom com, but-"

"No, Y/N," Felix hummed. "I want you two to be happy. And I think that could really be with each other."

"You got this! " Han whisper shouted. He rubbed Lee Know's shoulders as he hopped up and down. "It's going to be great."

Lee Know bit his lip, grappling with the feeling of nausea washing across his lower torso. He hated giving anyone the power to make him feel like this, even if it was you.

For what felt like weeks, Han had chipped away at his armor. The protection he had so carefully carved out over the years was picked away by his overbearing (in a good way he guessed?) best friend. It was true that if Han didn't push him in other situations, he wouldn't be nearly as happy and successful as he was. What if this was the same?

On good days, he trusted Han with everything he had. On bad days, he could only trust him as far as he could throw him.

And that big head of his was heavy today.

"This is the worst idea you've ever had," he hissed, spinning around to face Han. "Are you sure they like me?"

"Positive-" Han started. "-ly definitely a maybe."

Lee Know's eyebrows lowered, his hands latching onto Han's biceps. "What," he whispered.

Han cringe-smiled, wary of how quiet Lee Know's voice had gotten. He would almost prefer him to be loud about his confusion. He knew how to handle that Lee Know reaction. This one only inspired nervousness.

"I talked to Felix," Han said meekly. "He talked to Y/N-"

"This sounds a lot like a game of telephone," Lee Know said through barred teeth. "If I make a fool of myself..."

"You're not," Han cooed, looking his friend in the eyes. As Lee Know's hands drooped back to his sides, Han grabbed his shoulders again. "You know we wouldn't ever set you up to be knocked down, right? This is going to go great."

Or at least he hoped it would.

You tucked your legs under you as you settled onto the practice room couch. Quickly glancing around, you tried not to let yourself think too deeply about what was going to happen.

"He said he wanted to meet me here?" you croaked, looking anxiously toward Felix.

Your friend's expression was soft as he set a hand lightly on your knee and gave a gentle squeeze. "He did."

"To talk," you said, repeating what Felix had said on the way over.

"Mmhmm," he hummed, lazily scrolling through his phone.

"Is he on the way? Is-"

"Y/N," Felix grinned, looking up again. "It's okay to be nervous. You know that, right?"

"Nervous?" you scoffed. "What reason do I have to be nervous?"

Felix lifted his brows, letting you answer the question yourself.

Whether it was unsaid or not, you had every reason. Just a few nights ago, you had been convincing yourself and Felix (well, maybe not Felix) that you had never really considered Lee Know in the way he was insinuating you should. When you had pointed the gaslighting finger at him, you supposed your other three fingers were pointing right back at you. No matter how many times you told yourself things just weren't like that with Lee Know, a little patter in your heart suggested otherwise.

He made you feel things.

Good, amazing, but completely terrifying things. Things you hadn't wanted to observe too closely until your friends held them out for you to examine.

Taking a deep inhale through your nose, you slowly blew it out of your mouth. "I'm nervous."

"That is a really healthy admission, Y/N," Felix chuckled sarcastically. "I'm proud of you."

"Shut uuuup," you groaned, slumping down against the back of your seat. "Is he on the way or not?"

As if waiting for your signal, the door slammed open. Jumping a bit at the sound, you watched as someone's hand pushed Lee Know aggressively into the room. Stumbling forward, he quickly regained his footing before looking up with a nervous smile. "Hey."

"Hey," you said weakly, feeling your mouth already curving up with amusement.

"Time to go," Felix hummed, springing up from beside you and making his way toward the door. "You two have fun."

"Wait," you gasped, furrowing your brows. "You're leaving?"

"Got things to do," Felix smirked, nodding at Lee Know as he walked past. "You two might want to lock the door for some privacy. You know what? I'll just do it myself on the way out..."

"No," Lee Know muttered, shaking his head. "We're fine."

"Suit yourself," Felix shrugged. Opening the door only wide enough for him to slide through, he closed it behind him again.

Directing your attention back to Lee Know, you gave a small wave.

He let out a huff of a chuckle before walking slowly toward you and plopping on the couch as well. "So..."

"So," you nodded. The air was heavy with tension, an awkward silence going longer and longer between the two of you.

It was never like this when you met. Things always seemed to be so easy before, albeit occasionally shy. You refused to have whatever was going on ruin that.

Pushing forth every ounce of courage you had, you finally chanced looking up from your lap and into Lee Know's eyes. He had been quietly watching you, the direct contact causing his breathing to stutter.

"Why are we making this so painful on ourselves?" you said quietly. "Just say what you'd like to say."

"M-me?" Lee Know exhaled. "Han said that you..."

He trailed off, a small line appearing between his eyebrows when he began to think too deeply.

"But Felix-" you started, shaking your head in confusion. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured down your back. Had Lee Know not wanted to talk to you at all?

"I'm going to kill them," Lee Know hissed, springing to his feet. You came to the realization at the same time he did. Your friends had set you up. "I'm going to shove them both into the air fryer, I'm going to crank it to-"

A strangled laugh escaped from your throat as you grabbed his hand. Stopping mid-sentence, Lee Know immediately sank back down beside you. "They...they framed this up to be..."

"A confession?" you said weakly. You were crestfallen. A sour feeling twisted around your chest and plummeted to your gut. No matter how much you had tried to prepare yourself, it was all a wash.

"Well, yeah," Lee Know huffed. "They...they think we have feelings for each other...and we just haven't realized."

"Pfft," you scoffed, the hurt emotions already surging to the forefront. "Don't you think we'd know if we had feelings for each other?"

"Definitely," he nodded irritably. After only a few seconds, the nodding grew softer. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" you croaked.

"I..." he trailed off, his eyes trailing everywhere but towards you. "I mean, I had kind of hoped..."

You remained cautiously silent. The preemptive hurt was being pushed out of your chest as optimism surged in.

"It was a nice idea," he said finally. "That's all."

You opened your mouth to speak but were unsure of where to go next. Was this him admitting that he liked the thought of you two together? In his funny, little, Lee Know way, was he being open with you?

You thought back to your conversation with Felix and recalled the words you had cast off so easily. You've gotta make him feel safe. He'll admit it if he knows he's not going to get his heart broken.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before opening them again. Reaching forward, you set your fingers lightly atop of where Lee Know's hand sat on his knee.

Looking down in alarm, he looked back up again, and searched your face. "Y/N?"

"Just say you want me...and I'm yours," you said, ripping off the words like a Band-Aid.

Lee Know blinked, trying to understand. When your words finally dawned on him, it was as if he was blossoming before your eyes. His smile grew wide and his breaths heavy as he continued to look at you.

You sucked in your bottom lip, waiting. The action immediately drew his attention. Just when you thought his smile couldn't have gotten any bigger, the corners tugged even higher. Launching forward, he gripped your face between his hands and pressed his mouth against yours. What had been so quiet and fragile only minutes before, now pulsed with an electricity and fervor you weren't expecting. Gripping his wrists, you kissed him back, the surge of emotions making you feel as if you could cry.

At the edge of your senses, you could hear what sounded like faint shouting. Pulling only a centimeter or so away from Lee Know, you both looked at each other in confusion. The practice room door flung open as Felix and Han fell through, toppling over each other to land on the floor.

Felix looked up with a sheepish grin. "Told you both that you should probably have locked it."

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