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aemondsbabe · 7 months

Text

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!🌟

“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.”

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page.

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces.

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more.

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another.

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering.

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board.

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips.

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging.

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned.

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again.

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead.

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat.

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks.

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them.

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?”

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade.

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner.

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.”

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men.

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers.

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses.

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.”

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter.

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware.

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.”

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him.

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering.

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck.

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain.

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves.

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck.

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder.

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt.

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.”

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister.

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase.

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail.

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place.

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush.

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice.

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window.

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.”

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute.

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?”

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act.

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?”

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth.

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem.

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook.

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?”

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?”

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low.

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket.

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.”

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request.

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you.

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.”

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?”

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

“Do you?”

“Fine, yes.”

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables.

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes.

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone.

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together.

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles.

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?”

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing.

“You.” It comes out as a breath.

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark.

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.”

“None?”

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.”

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair.

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his.

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.”

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger.

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands.

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling.

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine.

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.”

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading.

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump.

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly.

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk.

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.”

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric.

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip.

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath.

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat.

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you.

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand.

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need.

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit.

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?”

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl.

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table.

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally.

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses.

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric,

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child.

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you.

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud.

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers.

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment.

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?”

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance.

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length.

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.”

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down.

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.”

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock.

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?”

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock.

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately.

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release.

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair.

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin.

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things.

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.”

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down.

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat.

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air.

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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planeteroticaaa · 1 month

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— ATTENTION

“let’s just go, my dear. cause the way you put it on, made me wanna take it off you.”

nanami was typically a rather patient man, but tonight he couldn’t help the twitch in his eye or the deep scowl on his face as he watched you make conversation with a group of his colleagues. you weren’t aware of the way they gawked at you in that long, black body con dress you wore—their eyes flickering from the generous amount of cleavage the low v-neck flashed to the way the wind blew the slit of the garment to show more of your legs each time your eyes closed when smiling that same smile that wooed him 5 years ago just as it was doing them now.

it wasn’t intentional, he knew it wasn’t. you just wanted to make a good impression, especially because you knew it could tarnish the way people at his job viewed him, but fuck were you doing too good of a job at pretending to care about what that arrogant, asshole of a boss had to say.

nanami hadn’t wished to go to this work party, ready to lie his way out of it and while you chalked it up to your husband not wishing to socialize, his worried were rooted deeper than that…you. he knew his collages would waste no time surrounding you in disbelief that nanami had a wife and in even more disbelief on just how beautiful you were.

how was it that you were the center of attention everywhere you went? that you turned this party from something everyone felt obligated to attend to wishing that it didn’t have to end at 12am because now it was about to be 2am and nanami was in the corner messing with his now loosened tie, waiting for you to finish your last drink so you could leave as he wanted to take that dress off of you just as much as his boss did.

he himself was surrounded by his female colleagues—each in his ear about how you “left him to flirt with other men right in his face,” their words full of malicious intent that would make any other man question had it not been nanami. he didn’t care for these women—hell, nobody did when you were here, hypnotizing everybody with the way that dress hugged your curves or how contagious your laugh was, the sound blessing their ears, the sway of your hips when you walked, that damn smile luring them in like a moth to a flame.

his resolve was slowly crumbling—checking the time on his expensive watch each time these women opened their mouth to throw another jab at you, staring at you from afar, eyes asking—no, begging you to leave for it was late and he didn’t know how much more patient he could be with you looking like that and them looking at you like that. he’s adjusted himself for the nth time tonight, uncomfortable by the strain in his dress pants. you were driving him insane and he hadn’t even realized he started making his way over to you until he grabbed your wrist.

“you ready to go, my love?” he asked, but something about the way he stared at you—his usual kind, brown eyes now narrowed and dark—that he wasn’t asking you. “ken—” “y/n.” was all he said, voice low and sturn, shutting down any chance of argument, tension so thick it left everyone around you quiet.

he was tired, pissed, and needed you more than anything right now and you couldn’t help but to hook your arms around his stronger one, your smaller frame against his with his bicep pressed up against your breast. “i thought you’d never ask,” you said after smiling and pulling him down to your level by his tie so that your lips brushed against his. yeah, he knew you were all his.

“i see the tension rising…i feel the temperature rising.”

in honor of my man dropping this HEAVEN SENT album🤭! but in all seriousness, i wanted to give you guys a little something because school has been kicking my ASSSS, but i got yall again soon! — ♱. erotica

— tags list!: @kashxyou, @lame-xxx, @ninacutebee16, @ynishalee, @im-a-simp-4-2d-men (submit your tumblr username here if you wish to be added!)

#planeteroticaaa #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #husband nanami #nanami x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen

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darklordofthesimp · 3 months

Text

Anything VIII (König x Reader)

The 8th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: No one make any sudden movements. I have returned. Excuse how rusty my writing is.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

What a sight you must behold.

Sleepless, stressed and on the verge of your breaking point… again.

It was no wonder that Saint watched you with deep concern, no wonder that they held their pen like it was a lifeline rather than just stationary. You wanted them to just understand, you needed them to know that you weren’t insane- everything was so elaborately planned and you were just on the verge of unravelling it.

“Saint,” you rasped, “there are people in on this…. The brass. I think König too. It’s a fuck-fight.”

The doctor leaned back into their chair, eyes never leaving your jittering figure. The sigh that fell from their lips released none of the tension balled tightly in their shoulders.

“Birdy…”

You stood to your feet. You didn’t want to hear it.

You were sick of hearing people say your name in that tone: placatingly, diminishing your thoughts and dismissing you as if you were the local crazy.

Maybe you were the local crazy.

Is that how everybody saw you? Did everybody truly think that you were so off-kilter that you’d hallucinate a coup? You were a victim of assault- not insanity.

“Stop,” Saint put their pen down firmly on the table, drawing your attention back to the situation at hand. “I’m listening. I’m just a little… hesitant. It’s a very serious accusation, Birdy, but I’m not doubting the source.”

You shot the medical officer a knowing glare. “Oh,” you drawled sarcastically, “because everybody takes me seriously at this unit with my history, right?”

“I don’t give a fuck about whether anybody else takes you seriously,” Saint’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I take you seriously, Birdy.”

The room was doused in tension. Your fingers curled to form tight fists, skin stretching over your knuckles until they turned white. You don’t know why you were angry at their declaration, angry at their loyalty.

Maybe it was because you knew it was misplaced.

Maybe it was because you knew you’d disappoint. “Yeah,” you sighed softly, relaxing your hands as you turned for the door. “That makes one of us.”

_______

The walk to training always held some anxiety but this time it was as if you were drowning in it. Each step felt like a death knell and sudden dryness in your mouth made you want to turn back and run to the safety of your room.

You thought that you were well and truly past this.

Apparently, you couldn’t get past anything.

As you approached the door you were surprised to hear voices. No one ever wanted to interact with König, let alone at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. The room was always booked for the two of you at this time, interruptions were specifically warned against by Price.

It’s just a conversation. You took in a deep breath. Not everything required a downward spiral, not all mysteries needed investigation.

Literally just a fucking conversation. Get a grip.

You straightened your shoulders as you approached the door and the dialogue became clearer.

“Birdy will be here soon.” König’s voice was as familiar as your own. “You need to leave.”

You pulled up short just before the entrance, frozen like a deer in the headlights. There was a short silence before a soft thud echoed throughout the room. It sounded like a hand being clapped over the shoulder but you weren’t sure. Could have been a punch, could have been a really intense kiss, who fucking knew?

All you knew was that they weren’t meant to be there. Maybe it was Sunshine.

Although you hated the arrogant fucker, it would relieve you to know it was them. They were inconsequential and, although they were annoying, they wouldn’t be behind your assassination attempt.

Sunshine would have made sure you were in the ground, no matter the cost. Sunshine would have succeeded.

Instead, the voice that rattled in your ears wasn’t your fellow coworker.

“Just be careful. Wouldn’t want to jump the gun, would we?”

Your blood turned to ice.

Graves.

You could almost hear that snake-like grin in his words, you could almost see the look in his eyes that was nothing but predatory. Phillip was charming when he wanted to be, but there was something terrifying about him.

Like a trap lying in wait.

Like a traitor waiting to strike.

The sound of sure and steady footsteps snapped you out of your thoughts. Panic flooded your system, kicking your adrenaline into gear. There was nowhere to hide, not even a small nook in this god-forsaken hallway.

As Graves drew closer to discovering your presence, you bounced back a few steps from where you’d been frozen. Throwing your arms above your head as if you were stretching and squinting your eyes with an outrageous yawn was all you could pull together.

Phillip rounded the corner with a cocky sway that made your heart race. You watched him scan your slowly approaching body, seemingly tired and unaware. You acted surprised to see him, carefully schooling your face to return to the usual lifelessness that it held.

“Birdy!” Graves said, slowing his pace. With a flash of teeth, the corner of his mouth pulled upward into a knowing smirk. “Good to see you.”

“I bet,” you said monotonously, adding a dismissive nod at the end like a punctuation mark.

Phillip’s smirk turned into a smile.

“Enjoy your session,” the man said slowly. As he drew closer you could feel your chest tightening. He smelt fresh like he had just gotten out of a long, hot shower. You hated that he was close enough to smell the fucking body wash on his skin.

His shoulder brushed yours as he passed by, setting your body alight with fear. You didn’t dare look over your shoulder as you trekked towards the gym door, eyes firm on that handle. His footsteps still echoed along the hallway by the time that you’d reached the entrance.

“You’re late.”

König’s voice startled you despite making direct eye contact with him.

The man looked disgruntled, to say the least. His hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it over and over, and your guess was confirmed when he roughly raked it over once more. König’s eyes were looking anywhere but yours.

“I’m not.” You’d meant for those words to have some bite to them but you couldn’t muster up the venom. Not when he looked like that.

“You are,” he insisted with a snarl.

You raised your hands up in surrender, eyes narrowing at his hostility. The urge to leave grew tenfold and so did your distrust for the man before you. There were too many things that pointed towards his guilt in planning your assassination.

The way he’d tried to blow off your concerns, the vehement way he’d shouted for you to drop it, and now, his interaction with Graves. You thought back to your time in the kitchen when Phillip had first encountered you both.

“Now, who’d have thought that you’d both be so… close.” He had said.

The Shadow had watched with intrigue as König stepped in front of you as if protecting you from him. If you really thought about it, most of his smarminess was aimed at the man beside you, rather than yourself.

You swallowed and choked on your own spit. It was a distant reminder of when it had been your own blood that you’d coughed on.

König’s sigh tore you from your spiralling conspiracies.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. His tone was quiet but his eyes were genuine.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “No, it’s fine. I get shitty when I deal with Graves, too.”

But why was he with Phillip in the first place?

You wanted to ask him, everything in you pleaded to seek out the truth. You needed to investigate-, you needed to know. Your mouth opened to get the answers you so desperately desired, but a thought made you stop in your tracks.

What if you let on that you were suspicious of him?

It was clear that you were no match against König. Your entire life had become interwoven with his and it felt like he was there in your every waking moment. If he knew that you suspected him, it would only put you in danger again. He’d busted through your bedroom door once and that was enough to tell you that you wouldn’t be safe from him anywhere you went.

You distantly realized that König was watching you carefully from where he stood, jade eyes analyzing every quirk of your lips and every twitch of your brows.

“What?” You said, feigning self-consciousness. “Admiring your handiwork?”

The man shot you a glare and you prayed that was enough to shift his attention.

“I hate it when you say things like that,” he hissed, pulling his jacket down his arms and throwing it aside. “Seriously.”

“Yeah, well I hate having a chopping block for a face.” You tilted your head to shoot him a deadpan look over your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“I cannot deal with you sometimes, Birdy.” König hissed.

“I can tell,” you jerked your thumb towards your marred features.

You knew that you were playing with fire. The way the man stood straight, his gaze narrowing and any sense of banter dissipating from his features, made it very clear that it was time for you to stop pushing that particular button.

“Your attempt at deflecting is not as effective as you may think,” König said, his words slow and deliberate. Jade eyes bore into yours and your breath stuttered in your chest.

You could lie to him, you could play dumb. He was dangerous and if you tipped him off you would be dead by morning.

You couldn’t make sense of that logic, though. If he wanted you dead, you’d well and truly have been dead by now. Your cheeks stung at the thought… you suppose that there wasn’t a lack of trying. Maybe it really had just been a failed attempt.

“Birdy,” the soldier said, shooting a glance at the door. “I know what you are thinking and you need to put a stop to it.”

Those contesting thoughts came to a staggering halt.

“I don’t even know what I’m thinking,” you snapped. “What would you know?”

König raised a brow at your tone, opening his mouth to deliver what you would assume to be an infuriating response. The words choked and fell from his tongue, though. There was a huff as he turned on his heel, stalking towards the exit and closing the door.

You swallowed thickly.

When he swivelled to look at you it was with a burning gaze that pinned you to where you stood.

“You bring attention to us in ways that will get us killed,” König whispered harshly, his accent was sharp and heavy with each enunciation. “You need to stop.”

“Stop what?” You waved your hands at him. “You’re so fucking vague.”

He flinched forward, pushing his finger onto your lips. You smacked his hand away like a cat pawing at something irritating.

“Would you be quiet?” He snarled through gritted teeth. König took in a deep breath, casting another look at the exit. He was watching the light beneath the door, making sure there were no shadows tipping off an eavesdropper. Why was he suddenly the paranoid one?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You lowered your tone but the urgency behind it was still present.

“You need to stop chasing this lead,” König shook his head, gaze imploring. “You need to stop trying to find who planned the accident.”

Your mouth went dry.

“Is that a threat?” The words were a true whisper this time. Barely falling from your lips and only as audible as a soft gasp.

König’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Are you in on it?” You asked, taking a step backward.

Bile roiled in your stomach as if mimicking a stormy sea. There was a distinct buzzing in your ears, numbing you to anything but the situation at hand.

“What?” König repeated. “What? No. That is not what I meant by that.”

You shook your head, “the other day- the way you reacted says otherwise.”

He reached out for your arm and you wonder if it was to comfort you or to detain you. You finched away from him but this time the man before you didn’t yield. He did not back down and he did not allow you the illusion of control.

Instead, König held you firmly by your biceps.

“I need you to listen to me, Birdy. We don’t have time for this back and forth thing that we do every time.”

Rage tore through your chest at his dismissal and you would have told him as much had he not looked so desperate. Instead, you kept your mouth shut as the man watched you pleadingly. You would let him speak because maybe he had the answers you were searching for, maybe König would be the evidence to prove that these suspicions weren’t delusions.

The man cast another glance towards the doorway before letting go of your arms. You straightened cautiously, being mindful to not rub at the skin he’d had contact with.

“Well?” You whispered impatiently, waving a hand at him to continue. “You wanna manhandle me or do you want to talk?”

“It’s not safe for us to talk here,” König’s words were barely audible. “You need to stop with your head-hunting. Stop asking questions.”

His eyes were fierce, warning you not to challenge his demands but you couldn’t care less. He, of all people, had no right to be telling you when to chase answers.

He raised a hand before you could speak. “You are going to get us both killed because you gather intel like a child-”

“What does that even mean?” You interrupted harshly.

“It means you have alerted everyone, Birdy!” König snapped, his voice harsh and his eyes flashing. “Whoever did this knows that you’re onto them. They know that we know.”

You blinked dumbly, stunned.

The man glared at you for a long moment, his chest heaving with laden breaths. The silence that eneveloped you both was anything but empty. There was a buzzing in your ears and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified that he’d confirmed your suspicions. Blind rage filled your lungs as if you were drowning.

“You mother fucker!” You hissed between gritted teeth, shoving at his chest with as much force as you could muster. “You fucking knew?”

“Of course I knew!” König bit back as he stumbled for his footing. “I’ve been trying to find them and you have been hindering me every fucking step of the way, Birdy.”

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, you wanted to bash this man over and over just like he’d done to you. You weren’t insane but he was more than happy to intimidate you into thinking that you were.

“How could you keep this from me?” Your fingers dug into the skin of his arms as you grabbed him. You wanted to shake the truth from the giant before you, rattle the honesty right from his mouth. “After everything that’s happened!”

König didn’t so much as wince at your nails in his skin, fury simmered in his eyes like molten jade. “I was your main suspect and you outright told me about your suspicions while you were locked in a room with me, Birdy. What would have happened if I was actually everything you make me out to be?”

You swallowed thickly, your fingers loosening their grip.

“I could have killed you right there,” König continued softly, “at this rate you’ll die before you find them.”

“You said I already tipped everyone off,” you rasped, almost meek in tone. “How have they not come for me yet?”

The man rolled his shoulders, shooting another paranoid glance at the door. He continued talking as he scanned the room, searching for telltale signs of a third party.

“Everyone thinks you are disabled, Birdy, no one is taking your concerns seriously.” König straightened, levelling you with an evaluative glare. “But I knew better.”

You drew in a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments before releasing just like Saint had taught you. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the thought of your therapist. You told them everything- König was right. You’d mouthed off your suspicions knowing that Saint and Price were close. What if Saint had told Price? Then Price would have told Shephard and Simon and then- God.

You’re so fucking stupid.

Of course everyone knew, you’d practically blasted it across the unit’s P.A system.

“What now?” You managed to croak. “What do we do now?”

König frowned at you, his body falling still. “We?”

“You’re not leaving me out of this,” you ground out.

“We are not doing anything together,” he said, eyes roaming over your features quizzically. Your heart lurched desperately, there was no way you’d let him do this without you. You deserved to be a part of this, you deserved to get your justice and whoever did this deserved to die.

“You owe it to me!” You nearly raised your voice, fear trickling down the expanse of your spine. Not a fear of the man before you, but this time it was a fear of being left behind. Left to paranoia, left alone with your thoughts and suspicions and no one to hear them.

König shook his head, “we cannot work together.”

“We have to!”

“We can’t!”

Your eyes were wide and your chest was heaving as the man before you gripped your shoulders. He lowered down to a knee, drawing close enough that you were only a breath apart. You opened your mouth to offer a shaky response but the way his gaze ran over your features stole the words straight from your tongue.

“I will not risk your safety again, Birdy.” König’s words brushed against your lips, warm but sorrowful. “That is what I owe to you.”

#konig x reader #könig cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #König #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #modern warfare 2 #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty

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beenbaanbuun · 4 months

Text

cock warming w/jongho

words - 🫣

genre - fluff, nsfw

warnings - cockwarming, dom!jongho, sub!reader, kind of non-sexual intimacy (cockwarming but not necessarily horny), a single spank, praise, guidance, it’s just very cute

you cant convince me that jongho doesn’t absolutely love cockwarming. like there’s just something about the intimacy of it that really gets him going. mix that with the casual dominance of it all - him pinning you down with a strong arm, spanking your thigh if you begin to grow restless, mumbling sweet nothings into your ear as you lay your chest against his in a dizzy haze - and he’s going practically insane.

it’s movie night, just you and him, and for some unknown reason he decided to use that feature of netflix that picks a random film for you

of course, after 4 or 5 tries, it lands on nothing good (because it never does) and the two of you decide to settle for whatever random film it decided on

it starts off with you two making fun of the poor editing and direction of the film, picking at all the plot holes until you were both giggling incessantly

that little game lasted a while, but it didn’t take long for it to become boring and the two of you were plunged into a comfortable silence once more

until, of course, a sex scene!

in the grand scheme of things, it had no relation to the film whatsoever and was quite frankly incredibly poorly made

like you don’t know who those moans were coming from, but they didn’t match up with the mouths of either of the actors

but just as you were about to make fun of it to jongho, you noticed a little something of his lap

well, more like a big something, and you couldn’t help but gasp

“this is making you hard?” you scrutinise, eyes narrowing as you pull them away from the tent in his pants to instead look at his face

you expected him to be embarrassed or ashamed, but he wore a stoic expression as he shushed you

again, you gasped and sat up from the position you were in, leant up against him

“first you get hard to the worst sex scene i’ve ever seen, then you shush me?” you scoffed, “just say you hate me, next time.”

you watched as he rolled his eyes, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen to look at you

“i’ve been hard for the last 20 minutes,” he grumbled, “you just didn’t notice so i didn’t say anything.”

oh… that’s weird

it’s not like you’d been doing anything to try and make him hard, and it’s not like the film had even been remotely sexy in any way shape or form

like you’d understand if you were lay there in lingerie, but you were in what you described as your ‘grannie nightie’, curled up against him like you would be on any other night

you frowned

“well, why are you hard?” you asked

“am i not allowed to be?” he replied

it was a fair response, but you still wanted answers

“well there has to be a reason…” you mumbled

“i’m sorry, why don’t you just call the erection police?” his voice was dripping in sarcasm, “hello? 911? yeah, i was being cute around my boyfriend and now he’s hard. come arrest him please!”

at this point the film was just background noise as the two of you went back and forth bickering about his penis of all things…

“wait, your erection is because of me?” you cock your head to the side in confusion

again, your pyjamas were hardly the sexiest thing in the world, unless you’re an 80 year old man and this is the most thigh you’ve seen in years

but jongho wasn’t 80, and he saw your thighs on a daily basis

fuck, he saw a lot more than thigh on most days

“well who else would’ve caused it?” he glanced between you and the screen, “you can’t seriously believe this shit show made me hard?”

“oh,” you mumbled

“yeah, oh…” he rolled his eyes

and you thought that was it for a moment before his hands were on you and you were being tugged onto his lap like you were nothing more than a rag doll

you squeaked in surprise as his strong arms pinned you to his lap, erection digging into your thigh

you squirmed, but the look he gave you quickly stopped you in your tracks

“you want to know why i’m hard?” he mumbled into your ear, a soft smile gracing his lips

he looked so innocent, and you would’ve believed it if it weren’t for the obvious

you nodded

“you’re just too cute, baby,” he chuckled deeply into your ear, the sound heading immediately south, slicking you up a little, “in your cute little nightie, making your cute little comments. sue me for being attracted to you…”

“but that’s not…” you trailed off, “i’m not being sexy, am i?”

“you don’t have to be, baby,” he cooed, “you don’t have to make yourself sexy for me to want you. i want you just as much now as i would any other day.”

“so you want to fuck me because i’m not sexy?”

he scoffed, “i want to be close to you, baby. it’s not the same.”

it sounded the same to you, but still you nodded as if you understood

“want me to take a seat?” you grounded down once and he groaned

his eyes rolled back into his head in pleasure, but just as you were about to do it again he stopped you

“not if you’re not going to be a good girl and sit still for me,” you barely registered the sound of the slap until the stinging sensation spread though your thigh a moment later, “i said i didn’t want to fuck you, and here you are grinding on my dick like you can’t understand basic instructions!”

you stilled at his comment, a frown forming on your face

now you really didn’t get it…

he seemed to notice your sudden change in demeanour and sighed

“i don’t want to fuck you, but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be inside of you,” he explained slowly, desperate to make you understand, “i just want you to be around me, sweetheart. no expectations, i just want to be close to you.”

oh…

you supposed that made a little sense

with a slightly less confused look, you nodded

you didn’t move though

you misunderstood him before, now you wanted him to guide you through it so you didn’t get it wrong again

luckily for you, jongho took more than a little pride in telling you what to do

it boosted his ego, and he couldn’t deny how sweet you looked when you followed his every instruction

so he gave you a sweet smile before setting his hands on your waist

“straddle me, baby.”

his hands never left your sides as you followed his directions

“good girl,” he praised, making you puff your chest out a little with pride, “now i need you to pull my bottoms down, hm?”

and you did it, because jongho was right - you were his good girl!

you reached your hands down and shuffled back a little to give his dick enough room to spring free

and when it did spring free, you couldn’t help but sit in awe of how pretty it was

you’d seen it before, but you were still shocked at how perfect it was every time you saw it

a decent size lengthwise, but thicker than most

a pretty pink tip that leaked pearlescent precum in little droplets

jongho chuckled

“you done staring, or do you want to take a picture?” your eyes widened and your gaze shot up to his face again.

he wore a wide smirk as you mumbled an apology

“it’s okay, sweetheart,” his thumbs rubbed circles over your sides, “now, can you slip your panties to the side for me? i want you to sit on me…”

and again, you did as he asked because you were good and you wanted to behave for him

so your fingers slid south and pushed the thin cotton to the side (ignoring the way you had to peel them away from your gooey wetness) and you shuffled forwards until your core was hovering above his cock

you slid down slowly, the stretch almost painful but not quite

it took a moment for you to bottom out, his tip snug against your cervix and your thighs resting against his own

the temptation to start bouncing was certainly there, but at the risk of no longer being his good girl, you decided not to

not that you could anyway, not when he brought his arms around you, pinning you to his chest and holding you there like it was just any regular cuddle on any regular day

like his dick wasn’t resting heavily inside of you

like you weren’t so close to disobeying and seeking out your own pleasure

a big hand came up to the back of your head to hold it against his shoulder, fingers lacing themselves in your hair and giving it gentle, rhythmic tugs like he always did when you needed to chill a little

his fingernails scratched against your scalp in a way that was so soothing, it seemed to turn your whole body to jelly

and suddenly, the horny tension that laced itself up within you dissipated like it was never there

well, it wasn’t completely gone - you still had your boyfriends dick in you, after all - but it was duller, more manageable

you moaned as you relaxed into his warmth that surrounded you from every angle possible, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle

“do you get it now, honey?” he whispered into your ear, “do you understand what i mean when i say i want you close?”

you just nod

“oh, you’re so precious, baby,” he gave you a particularly tight squeeze with his thick arms, “so good for me, hm? letting me hold you close like this. i expected it to take you longer to settle down, but you’re such a good girl, right? shouldn’t have doubted you, baby…”

his words made your mind cloud over as you sank into the praise that he spoon fed to you

you just lay there with your head on his shoulder, staring up at him like he was your entire universe, eating up every single word he said to you

“love you, bear,” you mumble into his neck

he chuckled

“love you too, honey.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #jongho headcannons #jongho x reader #jongho fluff #jongho smut

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tidalgeode · 11 days

Text

I think they should fall into the river and drown (im insane about these damn old men....) Anyway i drew this for a little thing I wrote, its under the read more !! shout out to my friends for proofreading it we got rid of like 10 'he would's

It was the ass-crack of dawn, as Clef often put it. They had left around 5 minutes ago, while it was still dark. Now, the dawn light was scattered through the leaves. The rushing water became audible as he and Kondraki's footsteps crushed the excessive undergrowth along the old path. Clef mourned their timing, gazing at the barren blackberry bushes that littered the entire forest.

“Couldn't we have gone in summer?” he asked, hands in his pockets as he carefully stepped down from a large rock.

“As if either of us were available. Fishing's better in fall anyway”

Kondraki, at this point in the trip, had long since given up trying to make the shorter man shut his trap. He just wanted to get to the water faster, not wanting to miss the small window of time when the fish are most active. The river wasn't far, but trekking through the overgrowth was taking longer than expected.

Kondraki wished he had brought a machete, becoming irritated at the amount of times his fishing pole became stuck in passing bushes, despite his best efforts.

“If you don't catch a massive fucking fish bigger than the creel I'm gonna be disappointed, Konny.” They crossed through the last narrow clearing in the brush, finally able to see the river. Now walking on gravel, Kondraki took the lead and walked over to a jutting mass of rock close to the mouth of the creek. He placed his rod against it as he climbed on top and opened a pocket in his vest. Finding a flat enough section of the rock, Clef sat and pulled out a spoon from the creel. “Gimme the end of your line.”

“Excuse me? Like hell I'm letting you choose a lure for me. I thought I already had a-” He squinted as he looked for the end of the line, with no hook to be found. “Oh, motherfucker.”

“Must have gotten lost.” Clef said, sporting a shit-eating grin. ”I like this one, lemme tie it for you.“ He showed off the spoon, it was neon and spotted like a more garish trout.

“No.”

“Come on, I know just as well as you do how to tie a knot.”

“Knowing you, your stench is gonna kill the damn fish.”

“Don't they have a good sense of smell? Call it an improvement. I bet they'd love it.“

”Know what, maybe you're right. It'd make sense if the only thing that could be attracted to you is a fish.“

Kondraki grabbed the line and found his way to the end of it, flicking up the bail to allow it to extend further and handed it off to Clef.

”What does that say about you then?“ Clef said, taking the line and delicately tying the spoon on with a tight knot.

”It says nothing, because you're the ugliest man I've had the displeasure of knowing.“

”You're so sweet, I try.“

”Shut the fuck up before I throw your ass into the river.“

#scp #scp foundation #dr clef #dr kondraki #clefdraki #implied but we all know these emotionally constipated men dance around eachother #half of this is just me referencing the way i like to fish...#shout out to the trout

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 3 months

Text

Alastor - [ DOWN IN THE DUST ] (Preview)

xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MNDI ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/VIOLEMNCE ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ AGE GAP ] + [ COWBOY AU ]

xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx

Cowboy Alastor teaches you how to shoot, and every time you hit the target, he gives you a kiss and soft praise.

“Good one, darlin’”

“Keep your arm out and straight, sugar.”

“Mhm, just like that, square your shoulders and eyes forward, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, glancing up at him, smiling softly as he tips his head in approval. “Shoot, darlin’,” he commands, and your eyes lower from his, settling on the target as he instructed, and your finger pressing on the trigger of his gun right in time with his command.

“Bang!”

The first man who'd dared to put his hands on you fell to his knees, coughing up blood as the life left his eyes, and Alastor erupted into maniacal laughter while his body dropped to the dusty ground. “Good shot, sweetheart,” he boasts, grinding wide, leaning down just enough to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, “Give me some sugar,” he coos lowly, eyes narrowing as you peer at him innocently, blushing wildly as his lips met yours. “Mhmmm,” he hums, an oddly giddy sound despite the dark situation, but you're instead used to his strange amusement.

He was a bounty hunter, after all, a lethal one at that, and recently, you'd become an investment of sorts to him.

You knew him long enough to know that killing was his favorite pastime, and killing bastards who thought it was a grand idea to threaten and harass you was an even better form of entertainment for him.

The men he'd rounded up in front of you fit the second criteria perfectly.

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, tipping his hat up as you looked back at the last two men standing a yard away. He insisted they face you head-on, that they see the satisfied look in your bright eyes as you picked them off one by one. Though you usually held yourself modestly in the presence of others, that facade came tumbling down in the thralls of Alastor’s encouragement. “Sorry for your loss, gentlemen, but I think it's only right you give my little lady a fair shot, seeing as you all ganged up on her without warnin’.” He chuckled as they let out muffled cries through their makeshift gags, hands tied behind their backs, and guns lying at their feet. You almost felt bad for them, but what little guilt you harbored washed away as Alastor tapped your backside with one hand while the other lifted your gun toward another victim.

“You think you can hit em’ right between the eyes, chere?”

You hummed, smiling with a playful glint in your eye while zeroing in on the man before you.

“I think I can manage it, cher. You've taught me well enough.”

Alastor chuckled, stepping back with a proud grin, pulling out a cigarette to light in his mouth, “That's my girl. Take them straight to hell..”

xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx

A little sneak peak. ❤️ Tell me what you think!

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I watch this edit at LEAST 5 times a day for sanity purposes (I'm actually going insane tbh) ❤️ credit to creator

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lovesickonmybed · 2 months

Text

teaching you a lesson in the worst kind of way | 18+

masterlist | info about palestine | donate to gaza

pairing | boss!ellie x reader

synopsis | you show up late for work once again and ellie decides another lecture just won’t do.

warnings | 18+ MDNI!! wedgies, degradation, humiliation, panty sniffing, cunt busting, borderline footjob kind of??, a little bit of pantyhose fetish, dom!ellie, sub!reader, unbalanced power dynamics, lots and lots of dirty talk, oral sex reader!receiving.

word count | 3354

a/n | i used this fic as an excuse to explore a new kink i’ve been into. it might be a little much for some people so if anything in the warnings sounds unappealing please keep scrolling. this was also partially inspired by an audio i found on soundgasm, which you can listen to here. i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.

You didn’t mean to make a habit out of being late but your shitbox car has made a habit out of deciding not to start on your busiest work days. You try to start it up again but once again it sputters pathetically and shows no signs of starting, you scream and grasp the steering wheel in frustration. “God fucking dammit! Ellie is gonna kill me…” You groan, swinging the door open and walk to your apartment lobby to call an Uber. You’re lucky enough to get one in under 5 minutes and spend the whole ride praying there won’t be much traffic, but unfortunately for you the universe is cruel and there’s an insane amount of traffic that makes you even more late than you already would be. You make a quick call to Ellie’s secretary to let her know you’ll be late and brace yourself for how much shit you’ll be in once you arrive.

The last time you were late you got a 30 minute lecture from Ellie, a write up, and fingernail indents in your thighs thanks to your anxious habits. Ellie wasn’t a mean or a bad boss, but once you pissed her off she made it clear that you’d have to go the extra mile to get back in her good graces. Bringing Ellie her Dutch Bros order a few times a week definitely helped you out, but after your car giving out for the 3rd time in 6th months, you’re not sure if electric berry lemonades could save your ass this time.

Your Uber pulls up outside your office building and you thank your driver for the ride and head inside quickly, looking down for a second to leave 5 stars and a good tip. You make your way to Ellie’s office as quickly as you can and thank the universe that she’s speaking with her secretary when you arrive.

Ellie is looking down at her secretary's computer screen, running her finger underneath the sentence she’s reading, mumbling the words aloud to herself. Ellie’s secretary nudges her to alert her to your presence. She looks up and narrows her eyes, leaning down to whisper something to her secretary. She nods her head in the direction of her office and you follow her inside, playing with the hair tie on your wrist to calm your nerves. Ellie holds the door open for you and you take a moment to admire her outfit, a pinstripe suit with the buttons on her blazer undone to show off her silky black button down that’s tucked into the pants. This is one of the rare days where she’s chosen to wear heels instead of her usual oxfords. You sit down in the comfy chair in front of her desk as she sits in her chair behind her desk.

“Late again, I really thought our last talk would’ve gotten through to you,” Ellie says, shaking her head with disappointment. You sigh, looking down at your lap with embarrassment. You take a second to try and choose the best way to respond, you’ve already pissed her off enough by being almost 30 minutes late, you really can’t afford to push your luck any further.

“I’m so sorry, I know I’ve been late already a few times this quarter. I’ve been having a lot of car trouble, I’ve been waiting on my tax return to get it fixed, I can’t really afford it at the moment…” You explain, feeling yourself get hot with embarrassment as you start to pick at your pantyhose cover thighs.

“We can discuss your car later, we’ll help you figure something out. But for now, I want to address your outfit. That skirt you’re wearing is too short, I’m gonna give you a warning for now but if you wear it again you’re getting another write up.”

“You’re joking right? My high school had a stricter dress code than we do and I wore this all the time. There’s no way it’s too short!” You’re pissed off now, it feels like Ellie is just trying to find something to punish you for at this point.

“Well this isn’t a high school and I don’t care if you wore it then, it’s inappropriate and I need you to not wear it again. You’re lucky I’m not sending you home to change,” Ellie says, narrowing her eyes.

“I wish it was high school, at least they’d give me something else to wear!” Your frustration from how the morning has gone so far is getting to you and you snap a little bit.

“You know what? Get up,” Ellie commands, getting up out of her chair and standing over you.

“What?” You’re incredibly confused by what Ellie has planned for you for your little outburst, if you’re getting written up for insubordination you don’t know why you have to stand.

“I said get. Up.” Oh, she’s not fucking with you.

You slowly rise to your feet in confusion, furrowing your brows and looking around the room. Ellie gets out from behind her desk and steps towards you, grabbing you by your shoulders and spinning you around so that you’re facing away from her. “You know, if this was high school, I don’t think you’d like me very much. I’m sure you were a little loser, a little nerd maybe, back then. Probably got picked on and teased by girls like me, hm? Girls like me would punish girls like you for talking back with a good old fashioned wedgie.” Ellie grabs the waist of your skirt, pulling it back and reaching a hand inside your skirt. She slowly grabs the waistbands of your pantyhose and panties and yanks them up quickly, sending you stumbling forward onto your toes in an attempt to escape the searing pain she’s sent up your ass. She laughs as you reach back to try and tug them out of your hands, it just motivates her to pull harder. “Stop taking it like a little bitch, we both know you had your panties yanked every day of your miserable high school life.”

You cry out in pain as she bends you over her desk and pulls even harder. You grasp at the wood as you feel your feet lift off the ground as she pulls, it sends the fabric of your panties between your folds and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. Oddly enough the sensation between your folds gets you wet and whiny. “Do you wish it was high school now? I could always throw in a swirly if this isn’t enough for you!”

“Let me go! This isn’t okay!” You yell, trying to force yourself up. Ellie slams you back down onto her desk with no problem and pulls even harder, your pantyhose ripping in the process. You haven’t felt this humiliated in years. Ellie pulls your skirt up for a better view of your wedgied ass.

“God these are practically disappearing inside you…” She mumbles to herself, fighting the urge to spread your cheeks for a better look at just how deep your wedgie really is. You manage to kick Ellie off of you and you feel the air get knocked out of your lungs as you hit the desk and tumble to the ground. You back yourself up against the desk and catch your breath, Ellie lets you, watching you and smiling as she plans her next move. “Don’t move an inch,” she commands.

You look up at her with fearful eyes. Your black skirt is bunched up around your waist, your ripped pantyhose and pretty white panties are stuffed deep between your folds. Ellie admires the view she has of your legs spread open, she smiles and nudges your inner thigh with her foot, pointing it towards your cunt. “Do I work you so hard you don’t have time to shave? Shame that such a pretty pussy is all covered up with that hair. I wonder how that pussy wedgie would feel if you had shaved, do you think it would hurt worse?”

You gulp and nod, not sure if she really wants you to answer her. “Y-Yeah, it probably would…” You answer meekly. Your eyes follow Ellies foot as she trails it up your inner thigh. She tests the waters, pressing the sole of her shoe against your cunt. She looks down at you and carefully analyzes your expressions.

“When you go home tonight I want you to shave, I want you to really feel it when you get that pretty little cunt flossed. Got it?” Ellie’s tone is demanding, she’s not asking you to, she’s telling you to. “You wanna be a good little employee right? Wanna follow my orders? Then do it.” Who are you to disobey her?

“Yes ma’am.” Ellie smiles down at you as you agree to follow her orders. You feel her shoe press harder against your cunt and against all better judgment you lift your hips and press yourself into the sole of her shoe, wincing at the slight pain and eyes rolling back at the pleasurable feeling.

Ellies lets out a breathy laugh, “You like this? What are you, a little pain slut? God, who would’ve guessed my little glorified coffee runner gets off on getting her cunt wrecked.” Ellie draws her foot back like she’s about to kick you, leaning forward on one foot, placing her hand on her desk to stabilize herself. She looks down at you and tilts her head to the side, “Are you wet? Your panties are plugging you up, it’s hard to tell. Maybe I need to kick ‘em loose so I can see for myself, hm?” Ellie draws her leg back further, getting herself ready. She smirks down at you before delivering a light kick to your stuffed cunt. You gasp loudly, falling forward, throwing your arm forward to stop yourself from falling on your face. Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a guttural moan, this is a pain you’ve never felt before. It has you clawing at the carpet and leaking hot tears. But, your eyes aren’t the only thing leaking. Somehow, someway, the pain from the kick has quickly melted into pleasure. You can feel your clit twitch as you lay propped up on the floor, squeaking softly, your hips jumping up off the floor.

Ellie looks at you with a shit eating grin, reveling in your pathetic display. “Lay back against the desk and let me see if they got any looser,” she commands. She knows it’s impossible for her to kick them loose, she just wants a good view of your pathetic puffy cunt. You prop yourself back up against the desk and spread your legs for her, she gets down on her knees and crawls forward to you. She lays herself down on the floor and grabs your thighs, spreading them further apart. She shoves her face between your thighs, carefully inspecting your cunt. You can feel her breath on your thighs and against your clothed cunt, it makes you whine like a little bitch.

“Pretty pussy getting plugged up just like it should…” She mumbles, running her finger along your stuffed slit. You throw your head back against the wood and whine, your hips bucking slightly at the feeling. Ellie smirks, knowing she’s got you right where she wants you. “Poor baby, probably haven’t been touched in so long…bet whatever pathetic toy you’ve got in your bedside drawer gets a lot of use, hm?” She grabs the fabric of your panties, slowly pulling it out of you as you whine in pain. You didn’t think it would be possible for it to hurt worse taking your wedgie out than it did actually getting wedgied but somehow it does.

Ellie leans forward and nudges her nose against your clothed clit causing you to yelp and dig your nails into the soft meat of your thigh. “So sensitive, I’m shocked you didn’t cum from just your wedgie alone…” She stands up and motions for you to do the same, you feel a bit weak as you do, using the desk to support yourself as you stand. You lean back against the desk, your skirt still bunched up over your waist, the stiff fabric staying in place. Ellie admires the view she has of your soaked and stretched out panties, the way she looks at you makes you melt. You know you shouldn’t be so wet after what she just did but something deep down in you wants her to do it again.

“Can I…can I taste you? I know you probably taste so fucking good…please let me make you feel good,” Ellie pleads, walking closer to you before dropping to her knees in front of you. She removes her blazer quickly, tossing the pinstriped fabric behind her. You hop up on the desk, spreading your legs, as you watch her push the sleeves up on her button down shirt. “Tell me I can taste you honey, need to hear you say it…”

You look down at her, biting your lip softly. You enjoy watching her plead like that, for once you’re in control. “You can taste me, baby. Gotta make me cum, gotta make it up to my poor little cunt after what you did to her. Make it good.”

Ellie smirks up at you, looking as smug as ever with a shit eating grin. She hooks her arms under your thighs and pulls you closer to her, “I’ll make it the best you’ve ever had.” She grabs hold on your waistband and begins to pull down your underwear, stuffing them into the pocket of her pants as she removes the fabric from your body. She leans forward and you lift your legs over her arms, resting them on her shoulders. Her face is barely an inch from your cunt and you throw your head back to look at the ceiling to try and get yourself to relax. You bite your lip to hold back a whine as you feel Ellie breathing against your naked cunt, you can practically feel the smirk radiating off of her, she knows the effect she has on you and she’s proud of it. You gasp as you feel her begin to kiss your inner thighs, she moves closer and closer to your cunt before she takes your redden clit into her mouth and sucks. Your hand shoots down to her head and you grip her hair at the root as your eyes widen, you haven’t had anyone eat you out for a very long time.

She smiles and slowly pulls away from your cunt, your legs still resting over her shoulders. “You react like a fucking virgin, y’know that? I’m shocked you didn’t cum just from that,” she chuckles cockily. You roll your eyes at her and tug at her auburn locks, causing her to wince in pain. “You little bitch, I can bust that cunt of yours again y’know?” You let go of her hair and lean back on your palms. Ellie leans forward and continues, licking a stripe up your slit and using her tongue to play with your clit. This time you don’t allow yourself to hold back, you moan in pleasure. Ellie smiles and continues on, repeating the motion as you squirm beneath her, licking at your clit every now and then.

“Ellie how the fuck did you get so good at this?” You whine, your eyebrows furrowing as you start to softly grind against her face, using her hair as an anchor. You ease up on her hair so she can pull away to answer, “I was really popular in college,” she jokes, before immediately diving right back in.

Your hips buck up in pleasure as she goes back to sucking your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You grip her hair even tighter and grind your cunt against her face, borderline riding it at this point. She lets you use her as she uses her tongue to massage your clit while she sucks on it. She widens her mouth to suck your cunt as well and that’s all it takes to send you over the edge. Your hips leave the table and you pull her hair with all your might as you spasm underneath her, moaning out her name, your legs tightening around her head involuntarily as you practically fold in on yourself. She lets you come down from your high, drinking you up enthusiastically, letting you make a mess all over her face. When you manage to come down you let your legs fall open and Ellie finally is able to get some air. You lay back and admire her flushed face, the lower half of it is covered in your slick and it’s a sight you’d pay to see again.

You let your legs dangle off the desk, feeling like they’re made of jelly as both you and Ellie recover. Your cheeks heat up as you watch Ellie wipe the slick from her face with your underwear, giving them a sniff before she tucks them back in her pocket. She gets up from the ground and walks around her desk, sitting down in her chair and cradling your head. “You’re so fuckin pretty, you were so good for me,” she says, smiling down at you, stroking your cheek lovingly.

“Where did you learn to eat pussy like that, I’m so serious?” You ask, giggling to yourself when her cheeks turn red and she looks up at the ceiling.

“I told you! I was very popular in college!” She laughs and brushes some of your hair out of your face. You can see a bit of slick still on her chin and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

“How am I supposed to work after that? My legs feel like jelly, my cunt is pretty sore, and you stole my panties and destroyed them.”

Ellie chuckles, “I guess I could give you the day off…or maybe just assign you to work with me all day while I help you figure out what to do about your car situation.”

You groan, you had completely forgotten about your car, “Shit. I doubt there’s anything I can do, I swear she’s done for this time!” You had a lot of memories in your car, a lot of them involved screaming to I Don’t Care by Fall Out Boy before going into work.

“I’ll help you figure it out, pretty girl. It’s the least I could do after dress coding you over some bullshit and wrecking your cunt,” Ellie says.

“Oh so you admit the dress coding was bullshit!” You exclaim, sitting up and hopping off the desk, pulling your skirt back down and smoothing it out. You sit down in the chair you had sat in earlier when she had called you in and look at Ellie with your arms crossed in annoyance.

Ellie rolls her eyes and huffs, “Of course it was bullshit, but hey I needed a reason to keep you in here longer. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you, it’s been so hard to try and be professional with you around.” You take a minute to wrap your head around what Ellie just said.

“You what?” You’re shocked she’d admit to it.

“I’m not sure why, but after we had that work event at the arcade with the karaoke room I’ve been thinking about you. Maybe it was seeing you in casual clothes or seeing you sing your heart out to Sugar, We’re Goin Down but something about you that night just awakened something in me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, it was driving me crazy,” Ellie confesses. You sit across from her and your jaw is practically on the floor.

“So you really like me? You didn’t just want to fuck me, right?” You ask once you’ve regained the ability to speak.

“Yeah, I really fucking like you,” she smirks.

“HR is gonna have a field day with us…”

#ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut #bully!ellie williams #wedgie kink

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cupid-styles · 4 months

Note

Is this too many? 🥺 -🐶

(Not for one blurb [that’d be impressive], I’d take any of these. But 11 and 18 had my eyes bugging out. 5, 24, 35, & 38 feel very ymls coded but idk—you’re the word wizard here)

5. “I can’t pull out when you wrap your legs around me like that.”

11. “You talk too much. How about we use your mouth for something else?”

18. “I’m gonna stop if you don’t cum.”

23. “Don’t stop. Even if I beg you to.”

24. “I never knew you liked being spanked.”

28. “I love that we both already finished and your legs are still shaking.”

29. “First one to cum loses.”

35. “Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear. Trying to tell me something?”

38. “Quit eyefucking me and get over here so you can actually fuck me!”

39. “What the fuck? Do that again. I liked it.”

42. “Ever heard of an Australian kiss?” “No. What’s that?” “It’s like a French kiss, but down under.” (“We are down under, aren’t we?”)

anything for you bestie boo!!! I was able to get a few in there for you <3333

part of the ymls universe

masterlist | talk to me

patreon

. . .

Harry is driving Y/N insane today.

It's not even really his fault. Clementine is being especially fussy and only calms down when he's holding her, which in turn, makes Y/N feel like a shitty mom, even if it's only barely been three months since she was born. Her breasts are sore from pumping milk, she's tired, and, if she's being completely honest, she's annoyed that despite the lack of sleep the both of them have been getting, Harry still manages to look so good.

When he's finally able to get Clementine down for a nap, he traipses to the living room to find Y/N sitting there alone, stewing in her own annoyance.

"There you are," he says, lifting a hand to run it through his messy hair. His sweatshirt rises up a bit, revealing an inkling of the laurels tattooed on his hips, and it only makes the pit of vexation grow deep in her chest. "Hungry? I was thinking of making a panini for lunch."

She shrugs.

"What's the matter?" he pushes, his bottom lip pouting out slightly. She wants to roll her eyes at him but resists the urge, attempting to soothe her irritation by telling herself that he's just trying to help.

"If you're not in the mood for a panini, I can always—"

"You talk too much," Y/N grumbles, glaring at him with fire in her eyes, "How about we use your mouth for something else?"

His eyes widen. "Is that why you're pissy today? You just need an orgasm?"

She's slightly surprised by his equally feisty response, but she doesn't blame him for it. He walks towards her, towering over her as he stands above her form, and takes her chin into his palm.

"You know you can always just ask." he murmurs, thumbing over her cheek. She narrows her eyes at him.

"Just do something." she mutters reluctantly, and it makes him smirk. Without a word, he removes his grasp from her face.

"All fours." he instructs. It sends a shiver down her spine but she obeys instantly, flipping onto her hands and knees. She feels the couch dip from behind her and she assumes it's from the weight of his body. Her suspicions are proven correct when he palms over the thick of her ass, though her bottom half is still covered by thin sleep shorts.

He doesn't warn her before he yanks them down to her knees, a mouthy chuckle leaving his lips at the sight of her bare bum.

"Ooh, you're not even wearing underwear. Trying to tell me something?"

She rolls her eyes at his teasing and pushes back against his hand, wordlessly begging him to do something. He snorts.

"Brat," he mumbles. It's not a moment longer before his palm smacks down against her ass cheek, making her gasp. He's never spanked her before — not because she doesn't like it, but because their sexual encounters have never gotten that rough. It leaves her skin stinging and her core throbbing.

"I never knew you liked getting spanked." he says all too casually. Despite not facing him, she can feel him analyzing her. Her eyes flutter shut when he runs a finger between her lips, collecting the wetness that's already pooling. "Guess I should've known, though. So desperate after being rude to me all day."

She huffs into the pillow and it makes him snicker.

This time, he issues a second slap to the crease just above her thigh. The force pushes her forward just slightly, her eyes rolling back from the sting of pain as she buries her nose into the throw pillow. It smells like him, and it makes a zap of electricity sizzle down her spine.

"'s good," she slurs, swallowing wetly, "Feels good."

Harry hums as he wraps an arm around her waist and pushes her up onto her knees. A delayed yelp sounds from her mouth as he pulls her into his lap, glancing down to find his hard length throbbing underneath his sweatpants. He haphazardly reaches beneath the soft fabric and pulls himself out, pumping once before smearing the pre-cum over her pussy. She shudders from the dirty act.

"Want you inside," she says, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Yeah?" he mocks, pushing the tip of his cock inside. Her head dips back and she whimpers. "Let's play a game. First one to cum loses. Got it?"

"O-okay—"

But when he slams into a second later, a shattered moan escaping her throat, she already knows there's no way she's winning this game.

#bestie asks #writing #🐶 anon #ymls concept

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gurugirl · 1 year

Text

The Con Artist | Part 5*

Summary: You and Harry admit how much you like one another but a traumatic event confuses everything and leaves you feeling unsafe and terrified. Harry thinks he's doing the right thing by keeping his distance.

A/n: This is detective!harry x crimina!reader / y/n | This is part of a short series. This part might have some triggering content. Read warnings before continuing.

The Con Artist Masterlist

12.4k words

Warning: Smut, angst, a kidnapping attempt, use of guns & drugs, some violence, a quick hospital scene

◈ ◈ ◈

You told Harry everything. All about your methods of getting a man to take you to his home or hotel room. That you had a dealer who supplied you with the pills (and weed for yourself), who also bought the jewelry off of you. You told him how much money you’d been able to save and told him that most of it was still stashed in your apartment, hidden away, and that you never kept any of the items you stole for fear of being searched one day and found with evidence. The cash could be explained. A Rolex with a serial number that matched a stolen one was much more difficult to talk your way out of.

You were nervous telling him, though. He was still a cop and you were still a suspect in a case. But you trusted him. You knew it was safe to tell him and if you wanted to really give it a go with him for whatever it was you two were doing, then you needed to be honest with him like he’d been with you.

And Harry learned that you weren’t some super devious criminal mind who knew the law and how to work the system. You just learned things as you went and you’d been lucky until you stole from the wrong men. Men that had some sort of influence and who had security cameras and lots of money.

But he was impressed with how much money you’d made over the years. You were a little bit scrappy and very brave. And you had more money than he did. A lot more in fact.

“Think I got into the wrong line of business. Bet I could get rich women to take me back to their home and make a fortune,” Harry laughed.

“You totally could. But women are harder than men. Women are smart and think about outcomes and the big picture. Men tend to narrow their ideas a little and think of the immediate idea but not much past that. Especially when they think they’re about to get lucky. So it’s easy to get a man to take you back to their place. A woman would take more time to work. Except you are quite attractive,” you reasoned.

It was freeing to tell Harry everything. He had plenty of questions for you and seemed to be more intrigued than put off. You’d never told a man you slept with about what you did honestly. But Harry was… well he was Harry.

You two didn’t wind up getting as much sleep as you intended that night. You ate the rest of the convenience store junk food for dinner and tried to sit through watching some crime drama program on TV but when you two got into a heated debate about which television show was better, Killing Eve or The Mentalist (there is no competition, Killing Eve is far superior), Harry told you he knew more about the law than you and then he Harry dragged you over his lap, pulled your shorts down, and spanked you, which led to him fucking you so hard against the headboard that the wall behind it was punctured. You both laughed about it but the headboard hid the damage well enough.

And then you woke before the sun rose and Harry had you in his arms next to him and you couldn’t help yourself when you kissed over his chest and nuzzled into his pecs a little, kissing over his nipples and Harry woke up when he felt your mouth on him.

“What’re you doing?” He spoke in a groggy voice.

You tilted your head back to peer up at him, “Your chest is so nice, Harry. Your muscles and little nipples. I’ve never felt the need to kiss on a man’s pecs before I met you,” you grinned at him. And it was true. Harry’s body was insane but his chest was so nice and he always smelled so good anyway, so it was hard to control yourself when it was right there in your face.

Harry adjusted his hold on you and moved himself down to your breasts, “I feel the same about your pecs…” he laughed as he licked over your left nipple but you weren’t laughing. His warm mouth on your tit, the way his back was flexing, the messy head of brown curls at your chest, his naked body…

You pushed him down and climbed on top and rode him hard. It was a delicious pre-dawn orgasm for you both before going back to sleep for a few more hours, only to wake up and do it all again.

Harry had you on your back as he hovered over you, fucking you slowly as you both gradually woke up and worked yourselves toward release. Sleeping naked together also didn’t help. You both insisted that was the best way to sleep, and it truly is, but when you’re naked and in bed with a man that looks like Harry, and talks like Harry, with a cock like Harry’s, well, you learned you cannot resist and when he was just as down as you the result was a lot of sex.

And plus you just really liked him and he really liked you. Even if you were debating about crime dramas or arguing about UK politics (which you really knew very little about, but you wouldn’t admit that to him and let him win) it was all like foreplay to you. And he liked your attitude and how combative you tended to be even if he said you were a brat for it.

By the time you’d packed up your things and gotten a ride from Bob to the shop to get Harry’s car, you were so satisfied from all the orgasms you had, you felt like you could resist Harry sufficiently for a while. And Harry was probably in the best mood you’d ever seen him in. Of course, he was, he’d been having sex for almost two days straight and getting his prick sucked. All those feel-good hormones would put anyone in a good mood.

The bumper didn’t match the rest of the car but Harry didn’t want to wait any longer to get it painted to match. He’d worry about that later. It was road-ready and it was time to head back North to Cottonwood.

You and Harry decided to head back to your mom’s to get your car, stay the night in Cottonwood, and then figure out what to do next. Before you got back on the road Harry had made the decision to call Rebecca and tell her what was going on (well, a version of what was going on).

The call didn’t last as long as you thought it would. Harry was leaned against the driver’s side door while you fiddled with your phone inside the car. You could hear most of what was said.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry,” he lied that he’d left his phone in his car after the small accident and it took longer to get the car worked on than he anticipated.

He said he was still trailing you but that he was having doubts that you were guilty anymore which had your ears perk up.

“I haven’t seen anything from her that suggests she’s the one. I thought I had a good lead but I was wrong, Volanti… I understand… I know,” he sighed as he spoke.

When he got into the car he rubbed his hands over his face and then looked over at you, “She wants me to stay on you for one more week just in case, and then they’re going to start moving the case to a cold file of sorts if there aren’t any more reports of the crime. She said you’re probably on to me which is why you haven’t made a move,” Harry laughed, “and I guess technically that’s true.”

You smiled and nodded, “I’m definitely on to you Detective Styles,” you laughed, “but does that mean I won’t be a suspect anymore once the file is moved?”

Harry started the car up and looked in his rearview mirror as he backed up, “You’ll still be a suspect, but as long as you don’t do anything it should be okay. I think they’ll put less focus on it, that’s what happens with cold files. The case still gets worked, just not as aggressively.”

That all sounded like very good news to you. It was a relief to know it was Harry that was the one who was working the case and not another cop. If had been anyone else you might already be in jail at that very moment.

The drive back to Cottonwood was smooth going. Your mom was surprised you were coming back so soon, and that you were bringing Harry.

“So…” Harry said with a sigh, “I was thinking I’d just get a room and that motel. I don’t want you to get all bent out of shape over it. I just think out of respect for your mom we shouldn’t be sleeping in your room together.”

You frowned but you knew he was probably right. It wouldn’t be smart to have him in your bedroom with your mom right next door. There’s no way you’d be able to stop yourself from doing something to provoke him and then getting dicked down even with your mom so close.

“Well, what if you just slept on the couch?” You looked over at him as he stopped at the stop sign before accelerating. You were only a few minutes from your mother’s house.

“Y/n,” Harry glanced over at you before placing his site back on the road, “I still think that’s a bad idea. From what I gather about you over these last few days,” he smiled keeping his eyes ahead, “is that you’d probably try and seduce me anyway. Just knowing I’m in the same house as you would be trouble. You can’t resist this,” he gestured his hand over himself.

You scoffed and shoved his arm, “Shut up. You’re the one that would be begging me to let you in my bedroom. If anyone’s weak here it’s you. Just consider how we met and that’s all I need to say for you to know I’m right,” you crossed your hands over your chest with a grin as you looked out the window.

Harry laughed, “Oh please. You were so dickmatized by me that you didn’t even see it when a cop was inviting you to his room. And the way you begged me this morning…” Harry pulled up in front of your mom’s house and parked, “you’re obsessed with me and my cock and you can’t deny it.”

You squinted your eyes in fake annoyance as you looked at the man who was grinning at you. You realized it was a bad idea to have him stay at your mom's. Of course, it was. You were both unable to resist and that was the truth.

Harry grabbed your suitcase and pulled it from his trunk, rolling it up to your mom’s front door behind you.

Your mom had left for work already, she told you to make yourself at home. You led Harry to your bedroom and he looked around at everything in your room when he sat your luggage by the door. You watched him closely as he leaned in and looked at pictures and the little trinkets you had from when you were younger.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” you said to Harry. He stood upright and turned back to you and nodded.

When you got back to your room, Harry was sitting on the edge of your bed with a shoe box in hand and that damn dimpled grin. Your eyes widened when you realized what shoebox it was. You had a variety of shoeboxes where you kept little things for yourself. Small mementos, notes from friends and exes, pictures, and in the specific box he was holding, a small dildo, plastic cuffs with pink fur, and a half-used box of condoms. It was from your quick stint in college. You’d upgraded to a nicer dildo and vibrator when you moved to LA and so you didn’t need the beginner one in that box. Your mother knew you had it in there, she was the one who encouraged you to buy one in the first place. Not in a creepy way, but in a it’s healthy and normal to explore your body kind of way.

The condoms were for when you were fucking your ex, the guy who took your virginity. They were probably expired. And the cuffs, well they were mostly just a joke. They’d actually never been used before.

You walked to Harry and grabbed the box but he put his hands over yours and pulled you down onto the bed next to him, his grin widening, “What’s wrong, dear?” He laughed as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s rude to go through someone’s personal shit, Harry. That’s from a long time ago anyway,” you tried taking the box from him but he lifted it up and out of your reach as he shook his head.

“Is it? Isn’t that what you do for a living? Going through people’s personal shit? Just thought this little thing looked quite well used is all. How many times did you make yourself come using it?” Harry was leaning in toward you as he kept the box just out of your reach.

“What is wrong with you?” You pushed at him but you couldn’t stop the smile that started to crawl over your face so you turned away from him.

Harry reached around and put his fingers at your chin and pulled your face back in his view. He’d placed the box down behind him and he brought his mouth over yours as his other hand took your wrists in his hand so you couldn’t grab the box like he knew you’d try for.

You laughed into his mouth but then Harry softly licked your top lip and moved his lips gently to the edge of your mouth and down to your jaw and spoke into the curve of where your neck and jaw met, “When does your mom get home?”

You would have rolled your eyes at him but his lips were brushing down your neck and your brain didn’t seem to work very well around Harry. You sighed and closed your eyes, “A couple of hours,” you spoke softly.

Harry let go of your wrists and stood from the bed, removing the lid from the box and dumping its contents out. He lifted the little dildo and raised his brows at you, “Good. Then you have time to show me how you use this on yourself,” he walked to stand over you where you sat and you tilted your head back to look up at him.

“Harry… come on. Seriously…” you said as you started to shake your head.

Harry tilted his head to the side and looked at the dildo and then down at you before getting to his knees on the floor and crawling between your legs, moving them apart to fit himself in, and placing the dildo down by your thigh, “What if I beg you?” He put his arms on either side of your lap and gave you, what you could only describe as puppy dog eyes, “Say yes, please. I want to see it. Please?”

How were you supposed to say no to him when he rounded his eyes like he did and spoke so sweetly, using, please?

You closed your eyes and shook your head with a smile, “Harry, you’re insane,” you laughed before opening your eyes to look back at the man between your legs. He moved his hands up to the tops of your thighs and kept his eyes soft on you, “Please, Y/n?”

You huffed a breath through your nose and brought a hand up to his jaw, “Okay. Then you’ll need to do something for me next time I ask. No matter what it is.”

Harry nodded and hoisted himself up to crawl over you, making your back hit the mattress and he pressed his mouth onto your neck. You felt him pluck at the front of your shorts to unbutton them and then he swiftly moved them down your legs before pushing you further into your bed as he stayed over you.

He sat up and ran both hands on the insides of your thighs and pushed your legs further apart. You were still wearing your panties when Harry began to thumb over the spot where your clit was hidden under the cotton of your underwear.

“Gonna get you all wet first,” he looked from where his thumb was up to your face, “which shouldn’t be hard since you love my fingers on you. Don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes and looked down to where his hand was, “You’re so full of yourself.”

Harry let out a loud laugh and removed his hand. He stopped for a moment as he looked down at you before tearing your panties down your legs and behind him into the floor. Harry scooted himself so he was latched on to your pussy with his mouth and that effectively shut you up.

Harry’s mouth was good. He was good, there just wasn’t any other way to put it really. He knew what he was doing when it came to cunnilingus and you loved being on the receiving end. And it was obvious Harry loved giving head too.

The moment you were drenching his chin he backed away with a gasp and looked over your pussy, “All wet. Now it’s time to show me what you do with this little thing,” he said as he lifted the dildo up and pressed it over your clit.

You bucked up toward it and Harry smiled, “Oh? Do you want me to use it on you?” He smiled down at you as he lowered the silicone tip to your entrance, “I’ll do it for a little bit but then I want to watch how you do it.”

Harry pushed the toy inside of your cunt and you closed your eyes. You’d never had a man use a toy on you before so it felt so vulnerable to be lying on your childhood bed letting a cop fuck you with your old dildo.

“Not as big as me, but this works nicely for you I bet. Look how wet you are, Y/n…” Harry slid the dildo out and lifted it up and you opened your eyes to see. Yes, it was shiny, clearly, your arousal had covered the thing in its entirety and you nodded.

Harry dipped the toy back in and then pulled it out, then pressed it back in slowly, the sound of your wet pussy being parted with the silicone toy was actually pretty hot. You moaned and pushed your t-shirt up and squeezed your breasts. In all honesty, you were sure that you were feeling so good because Harry was doing it to you. Harry was so fucking gorgeous, and his deep, raspy voice egging you on was so hot.

After he pumped it into you a few more times Harry stopped, leaving the toy inside of you and pulled one of your hands down to grasp the dildo, “Okay. Now you do it. I want to know how you masturbate with this. Looks so pretty already, Y/n.”

Harry sat back and undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his cock from the front of his briefs. That got you going even more. The view of his cock in his hand while you pressed the skinny dildo in and pulled it out a little.

After some pushing and pulling into and out of yourself with the dildo, you decided it was time to add your fingers to your clit. So, with one hand you rubbed your little button and with your other you fucked yourself. Harry’s cock was so hard and long in his hand and the sight of it was yummy. You watched him stroke himself as he watched you with the toy in your pussy.

You went faster, really getting the toy as deep as it could go, making it nearly disappear on each inward thrust and Harry’s breaths got deeper as he spit over his tip and smoothed his saliva down his shaft, “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking pretty. You gonna come on that little dildo for me?”

You needed to concentrate, because as good as it felt with Harry’s eyes on you and the dildo inside, you could only imagine Harry inside of you at that moment. His cock really filled you up and pressed into parts that the dildo couldn’t reach. You closed your eyes and panted as you quickened the pace of your fingers on your clit and continued pumping the dildo.

Harry’s own little noises were sending you too. You were spread out before him and Harry knew he could come easily like this, but he could see you were struggling.

You felt the bed shift and you opened your eyes to see Harry on his knees, pushing his jeans down further, and then his hand was covering yours, pulling the dildo out, “I think you need something a little bigger in there right now. What do you think?”

Harry put the dildo down on the bed and scooted himself between your legs and the whine you let out was pathetic as you nodded, “Yes. Fuck me please.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was dipping his large cock inside of you, stretching your muscle and fucking you like you needed.

Harry lifted your legs and put them on his shoulder as he continued rolling into you. Everything was loud and fast. The bed was nearly bouncing off the floor with the way he was pounding into you and your pussy was so happy a real cock was inside of you. And once again, you realized Harry was inside of you with no condom. You guys were asking for trouble. You were okay as far as birth control was considered, but you hadn’t discussed anything further. Harry could be diseased for all you knew but your brain only worked at half capacity when his cock was in view. Or inside of you. And all you knew, despite your better judgment, was that having him without a condom was like having full-fat, real-sugar ice cream with all the toppings as opposed to sugar-free vanilla with only one or two toppings. The condom really did make a difference in the way it felt and it still felt really good with Harry but without one, you felt all his ridges, and his warmth and the sound of his dick pushing into your wetness was even better. He also somehow felt harder and thicker without the condom, if that were possible.

“That’s what you needed, isn’t it? Needed this cock,” Harry panted his words between breaths.

You moaned and grabbed for the back of his thighs to keep hold of something.

“Tell me you needed my cock, Y/n…” Harry slowed his hips and looked down at you.

You weren’t in a state to answer him like he wanted. Your thighs were shaking, your heart was pounding, and your head was mush. The way he was sinking into you made your gut tighten.

But when Harry stopped altogether he lowered your legs, your feet hitting the mattress and Harry leaned over you, “Tell me,” he grasped your chin in his hand as he rutted upward into you causing you to gasp for breath at the harsh thrust, “that you need this cock, Y/n.”

Harry just wanted to hear it. He wanted the pleasure of you telling him you needed his cock. That would have made his whole week. He loved it when he was wanted and needed. And he also wanted to hear you say it because he wanted to tell you he needed your pussy. It was the closest he could allow himself to get to saying (or thinking) that he needed you or hoping that you needed him. So, the next best thing was if you needed his cock.

You looked at the man above you and realized he meant it. He wanted you to say it and so you nodded and breathed your words out, “I need your cock, Harry.”

The smallest quirk of a smile broke out on his face when he responded, “Fuck that’s good,” as he began to rock into you slowly, “Because I need your pussy, Y/n.”

And when Harry dipped down and kissed you as he continued thrusting into you, it became clear to you why he wanted you to say it. You understood what he really wanted with the kiss he gave you. The soft brush of his lips on yours, the way his tongue ran along the seam of your lips, and how both of his hands moved up to your face, holding you in place as he continued peppering deep kisses to your mouth, slipping his tongue past your lips.

You were in heaven every time Harry kissed you. It wasn’t something you could explain. Your feelings were hard to identify, especially because you hadn’t known Harry that long. You’d watched and read plenty of romances. You knew about the fabled existence of falling hard for someone too fast. You’d just never experienced it in real life and didn’t think it was something that would happen to you. So you wanted to be very careful. You trusted Harry but did he even know what he was doing to you? Did he see it happening to himself?

If you were to select a type to fall for quickly, you’d easily answer it was Harry’s type. Sweet and spicy and stubborn. Handsome, obviously. And it’s not like you were really looking for anyone. Your plan was to continue doing your thing for a few more years and then you’d retire and let life happen to you from there. You never saw yourself settling down with anyone. You figured you wouldn’t really find anyone that you could stand for too long. And who would be able to stand you and your smart mouth either? It would be easier to just have the occasional thing with someone here and there. You wouldn’t rule out meeting someone who could be a partner for you, but you doubted anyone would want to stick around for too long.

And you still felt that way. You felt like Harry would grow weary of your attitude. He deserved a nice woman with a regular job, who was honest and thoughtful. You weren’t any of that and any man you might fall for would deserve a little more than you could give certainly.

You felt the blissful unfolding of your orgasm spread over your middle as Harry’s lips stayed on yours and his cock turned your insides to molten lava. You gasped at how deep he was. His hips were pressed into yours and it gave you what you needed inside and out, rubbing into your clit perfectly.

“You want my come inside of you again, Y/n? Yeah?” Harry moved his mouth away from yours and looked down at you as he ravaged your inner walls with his thick length.

You kept your mouth parted as you nodded and whimpered his name. He could feel your pussy clamping down on him just as you were about to come so he thrust into you harder, deeper, his groin pressing over your clit in synch with his thrust and you cried out, holding onto his back for dear life, your fingers pressing into the muscles on his lats and he groaned when he felt your spasming orgasm around him, squeezing and pulsing.

Harry kept driving into you, the bed below you squeaked and for a moment you thought it could break from the movement but then you heard Harry’s groan and he said your name as he moved his mouth over yours and spurted his come into you before you were even done coming. You tried returning the kiss but your lips wouldn’t close as you trembled and moaned.

Harry rutted up into you a few more times, pumping his come inside of you before pressing up and burying himself into you, stopping his movements as he let himself feel you around him as he came down from yet another orgasm for the day.

Harry laid over you and kissed your cheek softly as you both caught your breaths, your heart rate slowly normalizing. It was quiet and gentle. You put your hand into his hair and ran your fingers through his curls with your eyes closed.

But then you heard something outside of your bedroom and both your and Harry’s eyes widened as you quickly looked at one another.

“Fuck,” you whispered as Harry pulled out and jumped off your bed. He tossed you your shorts and he quickly slid his jeans up his legs. Both of you still had your t-shirts on luckily so you were partially dressed. You pulled your shorts up your legs and winced as Harry’s come dripped down your thigh. The shorts would need to be changed out for something else to wear after you investigated the noise that had come from inside the house.

You heard it again, the sound of someone moving things, setting things down.

You quickly opened your door and Harry grabbed your wrist and spoke quietly, “Behind me,” he said as he pulled you to his back and slid out of the room in front of you, sneakily walking into the hallway and then quietly moving into the living room. You followed close behind, Harry’s large frame covering you from seeing much beyond his back.

“What the fuck?!” You heard a familiar voice shriek and Harry’s tense stance loosened as he laughed and turned to you, moving out of your way so you could see who the intruder was.

But you knew who it was the moment you heard her voice. Raechel. You told her you were headed back to your mom's and that you wanted her to drop by. You forgot all about that, though, as soon as Harry started playing around with you. You slapped your hand to your forehead.

Raechel stood with her mouth dropped open as she looked from you to Harry and then back to you. She sort of looked like she was about to leave with her purse on her shoulder and the way she was standing close to the front door.

“Uh… this is Harry,” you gestured toward the man next to you and then pointed at Raechel, “Harry, this is Raechel.”

Harry nodded at Raechel, “Nice to meet you, Raechel,” he moved forward and stuck his hand out to shake but she only looked down at his hand and then back to you before responding to Harry, “Did you at least wash your hands? I heard you guys, so…” she trailed off and the look on her face was still surprise and confusion.

You laughed and shook your head, “Well, we sort of didn’t have time when we heard you in here. Thought it was my mom for a second.”

After you and Harry cleaned up a bit and you changed your shorts for a skirt, the three of you sat in your mom’s living room and tried to forget about the awkward greeting you’d just had.

Raechel kept looking Harry over and you could tell she was a little uncomfortable. Which was understandable given that she heard him fucking you before she ever even met him.

“Y/n, um… can I talk to you in private for a sec?” She looked at Harry with a smile.

You nodded, “Sure.”

You went into the backyard and sat on the porch swing together. She wanted to know who he was and where you met him and all the details about him right away. Some man you’d never once told her about that you were now bringing to your mom’s house. A man whom she heard fucking you the moment she walked into the house.

But it wasn’t easy to explain. Not when you weren’t sure what to say just yet. Was it okay to tell her he was a cop? That he had been trailing you? That you were considered a suspect for the crimes you’d committed? She knew what you did for a living already so it might not be much of a surprise to her but it wasn’t as easy as just a nice little story like we met at a volunteer outing and the rest is history!

So you told her bits and pieces but left out big details because you needed to know what Harry was okay with you saying. She wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

“So, you’re not going to tell me much then? Is he in cahoots with you? Like, you know… stealing and stuff?”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, it’s not like that. I’ll tell you soon. I promise. But it’s a long story and we’ll want to sit down and discuss it in detail when the time comes. But right now is probably not the best time to do that.”

She smiled and nodded toward the house and turned back to you with her eyebrows raised, “But he’s good in bed?” She chuckled. She heard enough to surmise that you were getting it good when she walked in.

You coughed out a laugh and looked toward the house and back at Raechel, “The best.”

Your mom came home not long after your “talk” with Raechel and the four of you decided to go out for Mexican food. There weren’t many restaurants in Cottonwood but Macias restaurant was pretty good for small-town California. Your favorite was the cheese enchiladas with salsa verde.

You all cozied up into a booth and ordered your meal and margaritas. The sun was going down and the restaurant was playing some classic banda-style music. You and Harry sat next to each other while Raechel and your mom sat across from you. You noticed the way your mom was eyeing you and she was being nice not to scare Harry away with a million questions. But you were pretty sure that at that point any questions Harry was asked wouldn’t scare him away given the little secret between you two.

“So, Harry, are you going to stay over tonight? There’s only one motel here in Cottonwood and I wouldn’t recommend it to my enemies,” your mom said as she sipped her salty margarita (Macias usually put a bit too much salt on the rim of the glass that wound up melting into the drink).

Harry tapped his fingers on the table and looked down at you before answering your mother, “I figured I’d just get a room at the motel tonight. I don’t want to be a bother to you in your home.”

Your mom snorted a laugh and nudged at Raechel’s side, “Doesn’t want to be a bother yet takes my daughter away with him to god knows where after I haven’t seen her in so long…”

You tapped the table and raised your brows, “Mom…” you warned her.

She put her hands up, “Sorry… it’s just that I don’t think having Harry stay over is going to put me out in any way more than… well, it’s just that I think I’d like to have you stay for a week like you said but then a handsome, mysterious man shows up and you leave with him and it’s all so secretive and strange…” she paused and laughed, “I’m thinking this second margarita is making me forget my manners, but come on… you have to admit this is all very suspicious,” she waved toward you and Harry.

Raechel kept her eyes on you and nodded with a humph in agreement with your mom.

You smiled and sighed, “Can you blame me?” You batted your lashes with a grin and looked up at Harry, pinching his arm a little. You were trying to deflect from your mom’s scrutiny. She had every right to be suspicious, though.

“But you’re right mom,” you looked at your mom with a smile, “I promise to stay here with you for a week. Soon. And I’ll tell you everything. Maybe I’ll even be coming around more.”

You figured now that you had the police on you, you couldn’t do any more jobs or you’d surely get caught. It was probably time to lay low from now on. You could be happy with the amount of money you’d saved over the years. Your brokerage account was nice with a healthy amount of dividends already coming in every month. You’d continue to slowly deposit the cash you still had stashed around your apartment and then move that over to your brokerage account. You could live out your days with the money you currently had. There was no real reason to continue doing what you’d been doing until you turned 30.

Your mom had convinced Harry to stay over. She would make him a spot to sleep on the couch and he was secretly relieved he didn’t have to sleep in one of those awful beds at the Travelers Motel again. But he was a little bit concerned about doing something inappropriate in your mom’s home.

After Raechel left you, your mom, and Harry watched a few shows on television but you were exhausted. Harry stretched his body out on the couch and fell asleep rather quickly and when your head hit the pillow on your bed you were in dreamland in no time.

So when you woke up in your dark room and felt a large hand cover your mouth you blinked your eyes open and your heart jumped in your chest and you were foggy and confused. You tried to make the figure out above you but it was too dark and your brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders quite yet.

The large frame over you pulled you up and violently yanked you into their arms and that’s when you saw another large figure standing by your door. Your eyes widened to take in as much light as possible so you could see but then you felt something pinch your arm and you gasped into the palm over your mouth. You kicked your leg and felt your toe hit your nightstand which hurt like a motherfucker but it knocked your cell phone off the edge and onto the floor.

Heavy breaths, grabby hands, muffled words, a soft and comforting buzz throughout your body, and then shouting. A light above. A struggle.

You felt the floor under your back and you closed your eyes and knew Harry’s voice in the chaos. You heard the commotion but you were slowly being lulled into dreamland once again.

Harry heard the noise from your room and he was up in less than a second to check on you but that’s when he saw the man at your bedroom door, his back to the hallway. Big mistake. Because the man didn’t see Harry and Harry could see that there was another man in your room. Harry knew they’d leave from the front door when he turned back to the living room and realized they’d come in through the front door because it had been left ajar. Harry soundlessly made his way to his duffle bag and pulled out his gun, slipping the magazine into the grip handle and getting it ready to use if necessary. He looked out the window to make sure there weren’t more men and realized it was just the two idiots.

He silently walked back to your bedroom and stuck the gun to the neck of the guy who should have been on the lookout and spoke calmly, “Let her go.”

The man who had you in his arms dropped the needle he’d poked into the skin of your arm and you fell to the floor with a thud. Harry turned the light on and saw that the two men in your room both had ski masks and the one that was closest to you pulled his own gun out and aimed it at you, “Drop your gun or I’ll shoot her,” his fabric stifled words barked.

Harry pressed the gun harder into the lookout’s neck and shook his head, “You won’t shoot her. You need her for whoever hired you. Now put your gun down. Now!” Harry moved the man he was holding into the room further and he heard your mother behind him suddenly.

“Go back into your room! Call 911! Tell them we have two armed intruders,” Harry shouted at your mother, not turning to look back at her but keeping his eyes on the man with the gun aimed at your thigh.

“That’s a big mistake. This girl is wanted by the cops. If you call them she’s going to prison. We’ll get a slap on the wrist,” the man with the gun tried to reason.

“Wrong. I’m a cop and you’ve threatened me and my safety. That will land you in prison,” Harry scoffed and moved in closer to the man with the gun.

“A fucking cop? What?”

Harry kept the gun at the neck of the man in front of him while he patted him down with his other hand to check for a weapon. He found a gun tucked in the back of his pants and pulled it out, still keeping his eyes on the man with the gun and keeping his own gun tucked into the lookout’s neck. Harry shoved the man down to the floor and put his foot onto the middle of his back and now had the gun aimed at the man who was standing over you.

Both of Harry’s hands were now on his gun, raised in a stance to shoot, aimed right at the other man’s head, “Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot you.”

The man with the gun raised his hands in surrender and slowly knelt down, putting the gun on the ground.

Harry stepped harder into the middle of the back of the man who was under him, keeping his gun aimed at the man next to you, “Kick the gun away from yourself.”

The man complied. He knew he was fucked. Harry was trained and they didn’t realize they were breaking into a house where there was a cop inside.

When Harry had both men on the ground, face down, hands zip-tied behind their backs he knelt between them and lifted your arm to check your pulse. You’d be okay.

“What did you give her?” Harry looked at the needle on the ground and back to the man who seemed like the brains of the operation.

The man told him what was in the needle and then Harry asked who sent them. He wanted an answer. Who hired them and what did they want?

Neither man wanted to talk. But when Harry twisted the wrist of the lookout and pressed his knee into his back he spoke lowly into his ear, “Tell me what you want with her.”

“She stole something important! We were just going to get it back is all!” The man whined as Harry put his weight into where his knee was digging in and twisted his arm harder.

“Give me a name,” Harry growled at the man just as he heard the sirens of police approaching.

Harry didn’t get a name but as he suspected, they were hired to kidnap you and hold you for ransom or get the important item back for whoever had hired them.

The paramedics looked you over as the two men were put into handcuffs and placed in separate cop cruisers. Harry showed his badge and told them who he was and that he’d been on a case that was a dead end. He came clean about some of the details but not all. This would get back to his boss for sure. He lied and said he was on a stakeout in his car when the men entered.

Your mother was beside herself but Harry kept her calm and told her she’d done well. With his arms around your mom, as you were loaded into the back of an ambulance, he helped her into his car to follow it to the hospital, “You did exactly what you should have. You even had them bring an ambulance. Y/n is going to be just fine.”

And Harry told your mom everything on the short trip to the hospital. She saw his badge and how he had a gun and told the other police who he was. But he reassured her that you weren’t going to be going to jail, “I don’t have any evidence and even if there was, I wouldn’t be taking her to jail.”

You woke up with a headache and a sour stomach. It felt a lot like when you woke up after Oregano had given you something. Painful and grating.

Your mom was in your view the moment your eyes popped open, “Y/n! Honey! Look, Harry!”

And then you saw Harry over you, his messy curls hanging in his face.

After a series of questions, filing a report, and one last check-in with the doctor you were free to go.

You learned about what had happened from both Harry and your mom. You always knew what you did was putting you at risk for something like that, you just never thought it would happen to you. Attempted kidnapping? Someone had hired these men to come after you. Would it be possible there were others out there too?

And for the first time, you were scared of what was going to happen next, rather than looking forward to what the day held. You’d always thrived on not knowing and the thrill of throwing caution to the wind. But now you were terrified. You weren’t safe anymore.

You stayed in your room with your mom bringing you water and speaking softly to you. Harry popped in to tell you it was okay and that he wasn’t going anywhere. But you just needed a minute to wrap your head around it all. What if Harry hadn’t been there? And you couldn’t remember most of what had even happened to you and that was terrifying. Whatever they’d been looking for was long gone. You never kept anything you stole (except a few purses and nice coats). What would happen if they found out? Would they just then kill you? God, you couldn’t stop your mind from racing about the what-ifs.

When the sun began to set Raechel came over and you finally decided to move into the living room with everyone. Your mom had ordered pizza from the Eagle’s Nest and Raechel picked it up on her way over.

You listened as Harry explained everything to Raechel and you learned that he’d already told your mom everything. You ate your slice of pizza slowly and everything just felt so far away and strange to you. You didn’t have much to say. Not yet anyway.

Harry wasn’t sure if you wanted his comfort or not. Everything was still so new for him too and what had just happened to you was traumatizing. So he decided to give you space as he sat in the armchair on the opposite side of the couch from where you were sitting.

Raechel stayed for a couple of hours but you were clearly tired and not thriving with company. Your mom cleaned up and Harry helped while you stayed on the couch like a zombie looking at the television. You heard them talking and didn’t care to know what they were saying. But you did note how scared you were feeling and how you didn’t want to be left alone in a room by yourself anymore. So you stood from your spot and walked into the kitchen to be near your mom and Harry.

They both turned to look at you and your mom pulled a chair out for you and helped you sit. You scoffed, “I can sit down on my own mom.” But you were thankful for her kindness and care. It did make you feel good.

Harry just watched from where he stood and then leaned against the cabinet as your mom sat next to you, “I know, honey. I just want to help. You’re okay physically but I’m still your mom…” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

You smiled at her and glanced over at Harry who hadn’t made his way over to you yet. Which suddenly stung a bit. Was he going to start being cold toward you again? You needed to feel safe and you wanted him as close as possible but he wasn’t budging from his spot as he looked at you with pity.

“Thanks, mom. I know. I appreciate it,” you gave her a weak smile and your heart felt heavy. You had the sudden urge to cry. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because of what had happened to you. It made you feel so violated. The men who came to get you both had guns and masks and drugged you. And now everything in your life would be different from then on. You’d probably have to move from your apartment and go into hiding if there were others after you. And now, the man with whom you felt so safe and comforted was standing as far away from you as possible, making no move to show you the kindness and care you needed.

The first tear that drizzled down your face when your lip began to quiver your mom saw, “Oh sweetie… it’s okay to cry, honey…” she rubbed your back and took one of your hands in hers.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to cry in front of anyone but you couldn’t help it. More tears ran down your cheek and the longer Harry was silent and remained standing across the room away from you the more you cried. Finally, you were pissed and you stood up, looking down at your mom, “Thank you, mom. I’m going to go into my room now.”

You slammed the door behind you and lay on your bed and cried. It felt so ridiculous to cry but your emotions were everywhere. You had no control over the way you felt at that moment. You reasoned that it was because of what had happened to you, and you understood the way it made you feel was confusing, but you really couldn’t get over the way Harry didn’t even try to comfort you. It hurt because you’d started feeling things for him and you just knew that if he wrapped you in his arms and you could bury your face into his chest and inhale his scent you’d feel so much better. But you were too stubborn to ask for that. He should just know that’s what you wanted. Obviously.

You wound up falling asleep, exhausted from the day, exhausted from your tears and your confusion. Exhausted from thinking about Harry.

Your mom went to bed, leaving her door wide open in case you needed her. Harry checked on you and saw you asleep on top of your covers, still dressed in your clothes. He wanted to help you into something more comfortable and pull you into his arms on your bed and listen to you breathe while you slept but he didn’t know if you wanted that. He figured it was better to wait until you told him you wanted him near.

Early the next morning Harry woke from his phone ringing. It was Rebecca.

He stood up from the couch and answered, “Hold on one minute…” he spoke into the phone. He didn’t want to wake anyone but he wanted to check on you first.

He saw you snuggled under your blankets on your bed and you looked like you were still asleep.

He turned and walked out the front door to speak to his boss.

“Hi, Volanti,” he said with a sigh.

She found out about the attempted kidnapping and told Harry he’d done good to follow the men into your mom’s house and stop them from taking you. She informed him that now that he’d been made, he’d be off the case. Harry listened to her tell him all the things he already knew.

He was to come back to LA and get his reassignment and in the meantime, she’d keep the case open but it would be a low priority since there wasn’t tangible evidence, “But, Styles, I have a feeling she is our girl. I know you said you don’t think so, and she’ll probably be laying low now that this has happened, but I have a gut feeling about it. The good news is, if there is any in this situation, is that this may scare her from doing it again in the future. And now that we know where she lives, where her mother is, and everything you’ve found out for us, we can keep an eye on her if she does slip up.”

It wasn’t the worst news but now Harry was expected back in LA. But he didn’t want to leave your side. What if more men were after you? He felt like you needed protection.

“I’m hesitant to leave so fast. If I wasn’t here she’d have been kidnapped. What do you think the chances are that others are after her?”

When you woke up the house was silent and your thoughts immediately swung to Harry. You sat up and looked at your cell phone. It was still relatively early. You moved your feet off your bed and stood up, stretching your arms overhead with a yawn.

In the living room, there was no Harry to be seen, but you could see he’d been on the couch with crumpled blankets bunched in the center. He wasn’t in the kitchen but you did see his duffle bag. You peeked out the front window and you saw him pacing, talking to someone on his phone. He looked stressed. Upset. Your heart dropped.

You went back to your room and closed the door. You had no reason to feel the way you were. To be so unsure of yourself and long for Harry the way you did. You two barely knew one another. Why would he feel the same way for you? Why did you feel anything at all? It made your head hurt trying to work out your thoughts and your emotions.

You heard him walk back in and your ears perked up. He wasn’t on the phone anymore, that much was obvious. You could hear shuffling and then you heard the bathroom door close.

You needed to get it together. To confront him and find out what was going on. To find out if he meant what he said when he asked you to stay with him.

So you went into the living room after running your fingers through your hair and trying to make yourself look at least a little cute. You sat on the couch and waited for him to come out. The moment he saw you his eyes widened, “Hey. How are you feeling?”

He walked in front of the coffee table and sat in the armchair. Away from you. And that had you feeling that squeeze in your chest again. The searing one that made you feel like he definitely didn’t feel the same way about you. How could he not see it?

“I’m better. But what’s going on, Harry?” You sat with your back into the cushions of the couch and kept your eyes on him.

Harry squished his brows together and shook his head, “What do you mean?”

“Like… I don’t know. Are you staying? Do you still…” you really didn’t want to finish what you were going to say, do you still want me around?

Harry crooked his head to the side and kept his eyes on you, “I have to leave. Back to LA. I’m being reassigned. So, I can’t stay for much longer. I told my boss I thought you should have protection for a bit longer but the local police are making the rounds. And your mom is here…” Harry trailed off when he saw the look on your face.

You tried to calm yourself. You couldn’t understand why you were so worked up about a man that you’d just met. No man was worth it. This you’d learned from your mom a long time ago. And now Harry was getting out as soon as he had the chance.

“Fine. Your job is done here. You can get your shit and go.”

Harry sat up straight and a look of confusion tore over his face, “What?”

You stood up from the couch and pointed at his bag, “Get your shit and go back to LA. You’re done, aren’t you? No need to stick around me anymore.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to feel hurt by you because he knew you were reacting to what he’d just said. But it did hurt. That was it? You wanted him gone?

Harry stood up and ran a hand through his hair and laughed, “So, that’s it for you? You just want me out of here?”

You nodded, “Yep.”

Harry shook his head and blew a breath out from his mouth and looked up at the ceiling and back to you. He wanted to be level-headed but you made him crazy. He looked back down at you with your arms crossed over your chest and he couldn’t help himself when he said it, “Good. You’re more trouble than it’s worth.”

He scowled at you, knowing his words were hurtful but you hurt him. He stepped toward his bag and knelt down to stuff something inside and then zipped it up. He stood up with his bag in his hand and pointed at you, “I’m disappointed in myself that I believed all the lies you told me. You really had me going, Y/n. I thought you liked me. At least a little,” and then he turned and headed toward the door, opening it and pausing for a moment. He hoped you’d say something. He hoped you’d stop him and tell him you didn’t mean it. But instead, he heard your sniff and a small gasp of breath so he turned and looked at you. You had tears on your cheeks and your hands were by your sides, balled into fists.

Harry frowned when he saw the state you were in but then you were charging toward him, your face red, “You asshole!” you said louder than you meant to, knowing your mother was still asleep. But you were angry and you couldn’t control the volume of your voice, “Don’t say that to me! You have been distant from me and I can tell you’re happy to be leaving finally. And you said it yourself, I’m not worth the trouble so you can fuck off,” you pushed at his chest and couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It was embarrassing. You were making a scene and crying in front of Harry while he was stoic and unbothered by you at all.

“You’re fucking mad, Y/n. You know that? I was trying to give you space! You had a traumatic thing happen to you and I didn’t want to crowd you. But you’re obviously ready for me to get out of your hair so I’ll make it easy for you.”

You grasped the front of his t-shirt, “You’re a coward! You put all this on me! I didn’t know what to do with myself and I thought you’d at least try and comfort me or something! Fuck!” You balled the material into your hands tightly, “But you’re ready to get out of here the moment Rebecca tells you it’s the time!”

Harry scoffed and dropped his bag to the floor, putting his hands over yours to pry them off of his shirt, “If you want me gone I’m gone, Y/n. Let go!”

Suddenly your mom was behind you, “What’s going on here?” She saw you grasping Harry’s shirt and the tears on your face. She heard the emotion in Harry’s voice and the look on his face.

It was that moment that your mom saw everything for what it was. You were both being stubborn and blamed the other for hurt feelings when the reality was so clear to anyone who could see you two.

“I was just leaving, ma’am,” Harry started to speak but your mom started laughing.

“Oh? And clearly, you want to leave and Y/n here is just shoving you out the door huh? You two are ridiculous. Look at yourselves,” she gestured toward the both of you standing close, Harry’s hands clutched over yours. “Do you not see it? For fuck’s sake you’re both acting like children.”

Harry loosened his grip on your hands and you let go of his shirt as you both turned to face your mom. You pointed at Harry, “He was going to just leave. After everything. He got the call to go back and so he was out as quick as he could be.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yeah? And you told me to get my shit and leave. Didn’t even give me chance to talk to you or anything,” He looked down at you.

Your mom shook her head, “Since I’m clearly the only adult in the room right now, I’m sending you both to Y/n’s room,” she raised her brows and pointed at Harry, “you’re not going anywhere until you two have spoken first. And Y/n,” she looked at you with a look of warning, “you better not fuck this up. You need to calm down and listen to the man instead of getting all bent out of shape like I know you do. Tell him the truth. Be honest with each other.”

Harry let out a breath and shook his, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I think she wants me gone and I’m not in the mood…”

Your mom stood in front of Harry and looked up at him, her finger pointed toward the hallway, “You aren’t leaving until you two have spoken. If after you two hash it out and find you don’t want to stick around and she wants you gone, well then, you’re free to go.”

“Mom, please…” you spoke but she shook her head and she picked up Harry’s bag, holding it close to her body, “Shut up and do what I said. You’re both acting like idiots. Go and talk now. You get this back when I’ve decided it’s time, Harry,” she jutted her chin toward the hallway.

Harry looked down at you and then back to your mom and you huffed in frustration as you stomped toward your bedroom, Harry following behind. You passed through into your bedroom and Harry stopped at the doorway, still wanting to make sure you even wanted him to follow you but your mom was right behind him, “Get in there. And you both better be honest with each other,” she looked from Harry to you, “because if you’re honest, I think you’ll find that you both feel the same way about each other. So stop being dumb.” She pushed Harry and closed the door behind him.

You sat on the edge of your unmade bed and looked down at your feet. You knew you were an overreactor when your feelings were hurt. You were either cold and detached, or overreacting and emotional. In this case, you were being very emotional and definitely overreacting. But that’s because the truth was that you really liked Harry and all you wanted was for him to return your feelings.

“You didn’t let me even try and tell you what I wanted,” Harry spoke first as he paced the room.

You looked up at him, “Well here’s your chance.”

Harry stopped pacing and turned to you, “I told you that I was being reassigned. That my boss wants me back in LA. And then I guess… I just wanted to know what your reaction would be to that but I didn’t expect you to blow up and tell me to leave. I hoped you’d want to come with me or ask me to stay or… I just didn’t expect you to tell me to leave like that.”

You watched him start to pace again as you responded, “And you didn’t even want to be next to me Harry. Last night or this morning. I needed some comfort. I wanted your care but you stayed as far away from me as possible, so yeah, I assumed that was it and that you were ready to go.”

Harry stitched his brows together and looked out your window, “I didn’t know if you wanted me close, Y/n. Everyone responds to trauma differently and I didn’t want to push it. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to comfort you. I just wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

You breathed out a laugh through your nose and shook your head, “And it felt like you made it clear that you didn’t want to be around. Telling me you were leaving and that I had local police here and my mom… so, if that’s what you want…”

Harry interrupted, “No. Stop. Let��s not assume anything about each other for a minute. I think we’ve got it wrong and we’ve both had our feelings hurt and we’re acting based on hurt emotions,” he spoke calmly and walked toward the bed, sitting next to you, “I don’t want to go, Y/n,” he looked from the floor over to you, “Or, at least if I do, I kind of hoped you’d want to come with me.”

You’d heard him say it twice now. That he hoped you’d go with him. You considered his words for a moment and sighed, “I do want that. I wanted you to tell me to come with you or something. To hold me and make me feel safe and tell me everything was going to be okay. Last night that’s what I needed but you kept your distance and it made me feel sick. Made me feel like I imagined everything you told me. And I know we don’t know one another that well,” you kept your eyes on his, “but… I don’t know. I just… figured it could have all been in my head that you felt about me the way I feel about you. Especially after telling me I’m more trouble than it’s worth. That really hurt, Harry.”

If your mother had heard you at that moment she’d have been proud of you for your honesty and total vulnerability. But you were very much still in your head and guarding yourself in case of any pushback from Harry.

Harry dropped his gaze down over your t-shirt and then back up to your face and pulled you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest. Just like you wanted last night. Just like you wanted this morning.

He didn’t say anything at first, instead, he just kept his arms tight around your body and smoothed a hand up and down your back. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and relaxed in his arms, placing your own arms around his middle and inhaling his scent. Comfort. Safety.

“I wasn’t lying. You didn’t imagine it. We both said it and I think we both should be better about saying what we want to each other instead of trying to act so tough,” Harry pressed his lips onto your forehead, “I am so sorry for saying you aren’t worth it. God that was dumb,” he kissed your forehead again, “And it’s not true at all. I think you’re incredible actually. I want you to come with me. I want to keep you around. Is that what you want?”

You smiled into his t-shirt and nodded, “Yeah. And this,” you said as you squeezed him harder and so he squeezed back until you were both laughing and Harry loosened his grip and brought a hand to the back of your neck and dropped his lips to yours.

You don’t know how long it was that you and Harry were making out like teenagers on your bed, but your mother knocked on the door, interrupting the moment before it could get too steamy, “Okay, I heard you guys laughing and now I’m concerned that you’re both naked. Please don’t have sex in my house. I’m still a mom. Come out when you’re decent.”

You laughed and Harry smiled down at you, his hand still at the back of your neck. He pushed his lips over yours once more and then parted from you, nudging his nose to the side of yours, “I like you.”

You held onto his biceps and smiled with your nose still pressed into his, “I like you too, Harry.”

Your mom was happy to hear you’d worked it out. And that you were staying for another day. You would leave with Harry the following morning to head back to LA with him.

“You better keep an eye on my daughter. She’s all I’ve got in this world. If you hurt her I’ll kill you. I don’t care if you are a cop,” your mom pointed at Harry as she made coffee. She was mostly joking. Mostly.

Harry glanced at you with a smile. He was glad you had your mom. She was tough and smart and she raised you to be the same. But he was even happier that you were going back to LA with him. He wanted to keep you with him so he could make sure you were safe. He knew that you were probably out of danger, that there probably weren’t others out looking to kidnap you, but he couldn’t know that for sure and he knew he’d feel better to have you close. But also for his own sake. So he could see you and touch you and… he tried not to let his mind wander further. Not in the kitchen with your mom standing fifteen feet from him.

And you were finally getting what you needed from Harry because now he knew what that was. To stay near you. To hold your hand and brush his warm pads against your arm occasionally. To play around with you and not feel like he was going to hurt a delicate flower.

“You’re fucking up the recipe! Get out of the way!” Harry scolded you with a smile on his face as he bumped your hip from your spot so he could take over adding the ingredients to the bowl.

“Harry, it’s shepherd’s pie. There’s no way to fuck up the recipe,” you scoffed as you leaned over to watch him.

Harry stopped his hands mid-air and turned to you with a look of shock, “And that’s how I know you shouldn’t touch this sacred recipe. It’s not shepherd’s pie because this is made with beef. It’s cottage pie. Shepherd’s pie is made with lamb you absolute dolt. Get out of my kitchen!” He pointed toward the living room and went back to his work.

You laughed and your mom stood in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room watching you and Harry. She wasn’t sure yet about Harry but she liked his spice and his temperament. She liked how he handled you and after talking about what had gone wrong and why you’d been upset she understood why he kept his distance from you. She liked him. But she hoped he wouldn’t hurt you because who could know what the future held?

“Well, it’s not even pie if we’re being picky about semantics here. You British assholes act like you have a method but it’s the same shit and it’s just potato on top,” you pointed at the bowl and Harry ignored you as he opened up the refrigerator. You hopped up onto the counter and sat, watching Harry move about.

Harry took the bowl and added another ingredient and then he looked at you sitting on the counter. He didn’t know how he was going to keep it in his pants for another whole day. You two were at your mom’s and the next morning, super early, you’d both head out and the drive was long. You couldn’t really have at each other until you got to his house in Long Beach.

He put his hand over your knee and squeezed it and your heart did a little flip at his sudden sweetness. You liked how he could go from testy teasing to confection cute and then back again.

The three of you ate the cottage pie and watched a movie together. The day was relaxing and easy. A local police officer dropped by to ask some more questions and that was really the most action you’d had all day. Raechel had to work but she Facetimed you on her break and told you to take care on your way back to LA.

As you watched the movie you had your back leaned against Harry’s chest and his arm was draped over your front. It felt sweet and warm and you felt safe.

When you all decided to call it night you didn’t want to leave the comfort of Harry’s arms but you dragged yourself with a frown to your room and your mom commented about how silly you were being.

“It’s only for a night, Y/n. You’re in my house. I don’t want any funny business going on.”

But when the house was dark and quiet and you were sure your mom was asleep you crept into the living room and crawled over the top of Harry.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he lifted his blanket and opened his arms for you to climb atop.

“Yeah. I just want to sleep in your arms.”

So you settled on top of him and Harry shifted so it was more comfortable, wrapping his arms around you and finally, you fell into a deep dreamless sleep, comforted and happy and warm.

Part 6*

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