Currently thinking about getting railed by pretty boy Eddie with his mixtape blaring and it pouring rain outside. Just stoned out of our minds loving each other and ourselves until the sun sets and the sounds of thunder are far away. What a lovely afternoon that would be *sigh*
Warnings: Female Pronouns, Smut (Unprotected p in v/ Cockwarming/ Light Cum-Play), Drug Use (weed), Fluff, Aftercare, Cursing
(I'll get a "Read More" cut on this ASAP. Requests are open!)
***********
"If you don't stop wiggling it's all going to roll into your bellybutton."
You smiled down him, giggling as you admired his wild, sex mussed curls. He picked two round buds from a plastic bag and fit them into his little silver grinder, all the while using your naked stomach as a table.
"The grinder's cold." You whined lazily, your back arching as you stretched your arms above your head with a comfortable purr.
"Give me a second to load the bong and I'll warm you up again, you little brat." He teased, grinning to himself as he tapped the lid of the grinder, spinning the top open and filling the cone.
You rolled your eyes, watching the haze that already filled the air dance around the room. Rain drummed on the roof of the trailer steadily, as if the room itself was singing along to the mixtape Eddie had put in...one out of his dozens of them.
He brushed your hip off after a moment, grabbing the lighter. The water in the bowl bubbled as he took a long pull, lifting the cone to inhale the warmth deeply into his lungs. He held in for a moment before exhaling, letting it drift out over the room as his head went floaty again.
You gave him a Cheshire grin, which he returned, hooded eyes trailing over your body. "You want a hit, Princess?"
You crawled over to him on all fours, still naked and flushed from the last round. Eddie gave a knowing smirk as you rested your lips against the glass stem. He struck the lighter and you took a big pull, watching as he lifted the cone for you to inhale. You held it, straddling his lap as he set the bong on his bedside table, and released the smoke against his lips, letting him shot gun through a messy kiss.
"Fuck." Eddie groaned, groping at the meat of your thighs, and you giggled, the world around you going fuzzy and happy and lazy.
Eddie spread your legs further, dragging his index finger along your inner thigh. He gathered his last orgasm from where it was slowly dripping from you. "God, Look at you."
Your head was light and giggly and dumb as Eddie exhaled what was left of the shotgun. "Made a mess, didn't I, baby?"
You opened your mouth for him and he groaned, pressing the pad of his finger against your tongue for you to suck his fingers.
"That's my good girl."Â
You preened under the praise, the weed making your brain feel echoey and loose. Swallowing what he'd given you, you nudged your nose in against his, giggling to yourself as he tasted himself on your lips in a lazy, dirty kiss. He whined and chased your mouth when you pulled back, climbing off his lap to fall backwards onto the bed. You spread your legs wide for him. Slowly, he broke out in a shit eating grin as he watched your hand smooth down your tummy and hips to rub lazy circles over your clit, shuddering at the feeling. "Come 'n fuck me, Eds."
He laughed, "Oh, is that what the princess wants?" He hit the bong again, holding it in his lungs as he stalked over to you and spread your legs even further, blowing the hot smoke over your inner thighs and belly. You whined softly and he chuckled, taking pity on you and replacing your fingers on your clit with his thumb. He spit, smearing it over you and circling you so slowly it made you buck. "Do you always get what you want, baby?" He smirked, nipping your thigh, and you gasped a little.
"F-Fuck you, Munson."
He laughed, his hot breath fanning over your middle. "You are a brat." He hummed, kissing your clit softly and meeting your eyes. "I guess you're just lucky I'm nice."
Before you could quip back, his middle and ring fingers pushed deep inside you, making what was left of his last orgasm drip out onto his knuckles. He groaned loudly, "Jesus, babe. You're a goddamn wet dream."
You rolled your hips on his hand lazily, closing your eyes letting your body enjoy the soft, bleariness of the drugs and the steady strum of Eddie's fingers inside you.
Eddie watched your eyes lull back as rubbed the pads of his fingers gently against your g-spot, enjoying the feeling of your hips wiggling and writhing weakly. God, you were so fucked out.
"Eds..." You whimpered.
"You alright, sweetheart? You need some water?" He paused, pulling his fingers out of you slowly and sucking them clean. He hadn't meant it to be seductive, but he smiled and laughed softly when you groaned at the sight.
"Easy tiger. C'mere." Eddie grabbed a glass from the table and you sat up a little on your elbows. He held the glass for you as you took a few slow sips, rubbing your back passively.
You reached for him as he returned the glass and he grinned, settling on top of you. He was heavy and warm and you couldn't tell if it was the sex or the weed that made you dizzy, but when he finally dragged himself up and down between your thighs and pushed his cock up into you, you were done for. All you were sure of was the heat of his lips and teeth as he sucked pretty purple bruises all over your neck and collarbones. You both cursed, a deep, delicious ache forming in your belly at the stretch. You slid your arms up over his back and shoulders to hold him, your ankles crossing together against his tailbone as he rocked his hips. He was deep, and you gasped softly when he finally pressed the tops of thighs in against the underside of yours, your slick wetting his lower tummy.
You whined, bucking to meet his thrusts, which were faster now. The sticky sound of your ass slapping against his hips nearly drowned out the sound of thunder rumbling outside. "Ed-d-d-ie..." you groaned as he circled your nipples with his hot tongue, tugging one gently with his teeth. The world was warm and fuzzy and he was making you feel so good you couldn't keep still. You were hardly aware he stopped to hit the bong, your cunt throbbing and your soaked thighs open to the cold air, but you knew he must have, because before you knew it he was kissing you hard and wet and messy, heavy smoke filling your lungs again as he railed into you. Heat pooled more and more in your belly as the shotgun floated you even further away.
Vaguely, you felt Eddie pull the tie from your hair, lacing his fingers through your locks as you stared up at him with hooded eyes. You arched into the feeling of his fingertips dragging over your scalp and the gentle tug it created, unknowingly showing off the purple marks he'd sucked into the delicate skin of your neck. He moaned, his arm wrapping around the small of your back and your hips tilting ever so slightly into his thrusts. You gasped, crying out as you tightened your hold on him. Eddie chuckled knowingly, and you could feel his hot breath fanning over you. "Mhm, that's the spot, huh?"
You nodded pitifully and he thrusted harder as you tightened and throbbed around him. He nipped at the skin below your jaw, rasping against it. "You gonna cum, princess? Soak my cock?"
You gave a little sob, tugging at his pretty curls and looking up into his big brown eyes like you were fighting to hang on.
" 's ok babe. I'm there. Let me feel you. Come for me. That's it." Eddie's voice broke as his heat spilled into your belly, your walls spasming around him and your head falling back against the bed with soft moans as shocks of pleasure rolled over you.
Your chest heaved and you shuddered as he filled you up again, his warm weight against you. He went to pull out after a moment but you pushed his tailbone back down with your ankles, making him giggle. "Not yet?"
"Not yet."
 He smiled up at you, an Eddie smile, and reached to cradle your cheek. His thumb grazed over your lips and you kissed it. He gave you a fond look, reaching up to feel the back of your neck and forehead. "You're not too warm, are you?"
"No." You hummed, your eyes growing harder to keep open. He chuckled as he watched your futile attempts to fight it. "Makes you sleepy sometimes, huh? The weed..."
"No...'m just...just relaxed."
He smirked knowingly, leaning in to kiss your nose and forehead before sitting up and pulling out slowly. You gave a discontent sound and he rolled his eyes, grabbing the glass of water again and laying beside you. Carefully, He guided it to your lips to let you take slow sips. "That's my girl."
You gave him a sweet, lazy smile.
"Brat." He added in as an afterthought, making you laugh as he pressed a soft, smiley kiss to your lips.
You nuzzled into his neck as he set the glass down, his long arms wrapping around you tightly.
You laid there for a moment before your hand crept to his belly, wrapping around his soft cock and stroking him. He squirmed and groaned, "Jesus, woman, you're an animal. It hasn't even been five minutes."
You laughed softly, pecking his lips as he looked up at you with tired eyes, and he couldn't help but smile.
"You just want want me there while you sleep?" You nodded shyly, and he gave your ass a little squeeze under the covers. He sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Three more minutes and I'm yours, babe."
True to his word, in three minutes, he let you stroke him gently until he was hard enough to push inside you, and you snuggled your head against his chest. The rain drummed heavily on the roof of the trailer, and you both drifted off before the cassette even clicked.
lovesick eddie munson x reader | short fluff blurb cause i love him
âËâšâĄ.
One thing about Eddie is that he never wastes his time. There is always some song to learn on the guitar, or a campaign to be written, or his favourite slasher movie desperately calling his name for a rewatch. To him, every second is priceless. Which is exactly why heâs enjoying nothing more than watching you get ready.
You sit at your vanity, fingers moving through your hair, calm and unhurried. Eddie lasts maybe another thirty seconds on your bed before heâs taking the three steps to get to you. âCâmon,â her murmurs, padding over behind you. His hands give a squeeze on your shoulders. âHow am I supposed to stay over there when you look like that.â
You smile, catching his reflection hovering close. âI'm just doing my hair.â
âMhm,â he says, arms slipping around you, chin resting on your shoulder. âThatâs exactly the problem.â He presses a kiss to your temple, then another just below it. âYouâre beautiful,â he whispers, incessantly like you need to hear it.
You lean back into him, and he takes it as permission to kiss your cheek, the corner of your mouth. âEvery time you get ready,â he nuzzles in closer, âyâkill me a little.â
You finally turn your head, and heâs there immediately, kissing you properly. When he pulls back, his forehead stays pressed to yours. âMmh,â he hums satisfied, âno better way I could be spending my time.â
Gif by the lovely @loveu2themoonandtosaturn, dividers by @/cursed-carmin
Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader
Summary: It was a normal day for Eddie. Arriving at school late, getting to class late, leaving lunch late. But then an anonymous note, inked in glittery pink gel, fluttered from his locker. And he knew whose it was. No doubt about it. Because it was the same handwriting as the short message on the last page of his junior yearbook. Carved in glitter, color faded from the amount of times his thumb had traced every curved letter, every dotted âiâ and crossed âtâ. It was yours. It was you. Calling him to the forest behind the school. And he had never been so early.Â
Or
You seek Eddie out, maybe for a little herbal relief, maybe for something more. And who is he to turn down such a pretty girl? But how will he fare having to skirt the edges of your loose-lipped truths?
Word Count: 11.1k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, PiV unprotected sex, semi-public sex, cream pie, virginity loss, dirty talk, nipple stim, fingering, oral (f rec), mention of masturbation (m), insinuated hypothetical pregnancy, virgin!Reader, semi-experienced!Eddie, fluff, mild angst, very mild dubcon (both R & E are high), Eddieâs POV, drug usage (weed), feelings, insecurity, fem pronouns, if I missed anything lmk!
Song Recs: Evie by Shoe, Palomino by FINNEAS, I Want Somebody Badly by Jeff Buckley
A/N: Everyone say thank you and kiss this anonâs forehead for the idea. Also, itâs been a minute since Iâve freshly written a full fic and not just posted a draft from the summer, so be nice to me.
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 âYouâre pretty.â
The words catch Eddie off guard. Especially since you havenât spoken in two minutes, utterly transfixed by the sky above. Or maybe it was the falling leaves that stole your attention; scarlet and gold floating on the autumn breeze. Delicate. Pretty.Â
Either way, he hadnât expected to hear such a sentiment from the Hawkins High cheer captain.Â
Although, he hadnât expected to be here with you, at all, as a matter of fact.Â
Not in the woods behind the school.
And definitely not alone.Â
Itâs unnatural.
You, laid out on top of the picnic table. Him, hunched on the seat below, straddling the old plank of wood. Too close.Â
Closer than heâs ever been.Â
Itâs aberrant, really.
But maybe, just for today, everything is topsy-turvy.Â
Maybe it will go back to normal soon. You in your bubble, him in his. Two separate worlds. Two separate planets orbiting the same rust-bucket town. The same miserable high school. At least for a few more months.Â
Then heâll get the hell out of this place. Just drive and drive and drive until the scent of manure no longer singes his nose hairs. Until the cornfields turn into beaches. Or mountains. Or shit, even swamp lands. Heâs not picky.Â
And youâll be off at some college, probably.Â
Find a braincell-deficient jock and pop out a couple of kids. Heâs picturing a picket fence somewhere there, too. Possibly a station wagon with that dumb wooden interior. He hates that wooden interior.Â
And youâll forget he ever existed.Â
And heâllâ
âSo pretty.âÂ
Itâs lower this time. A whisper. Like it was only meant to stay inside your head. Like you werenât even aware you said it.Â
And maybe you arenât aware. Maybe the weed is hitting you hard. Too hard. Itâs only your first time.Â
So maybe he should pretend like he didnât hear. Just continue to act like the metal box in front of him needs reorganizing.Â
Re-reorganizing, even.Â
Whatever it takes to not notice the way your pleated skirt has ridden up, bunched at the tops of your thighs.Â
Because he hasnât noticed.Â
No, heâs not aware of how smooth your skin looks, or how the cherry blossom scent of your lotion seems to intoxicate him more than the shared joint, now forgotten, smoldering between your fingers.Â
He has no idea what color panties youâre wearing, and absolutely no clue what powder blue fabric looks like when it darkens.Â
Baggies to the left. Try to prop them up against each other. Bottles to the right. Line them up. Shit, the baggies wonât sit upright. Maybe lay them flat? Then, if he moves the tinâ
âDo you think Iâm pretty, too?âÂ
Fuck.Â
Your heavy-lidded gaze is directed at him now, and he finally feels the high. Or maybe itâs just your effect; the kind of haze that leaves him wondering what new strain has him seeing a real life angel. The kind of feeling that sends his heart away at a dead sprint and his mind swimming in a tank of molasses.
Everything is muffled. And thereâs only you. And those eyes. Waiting.
âY-Yeah,â he chokes, hoping you donât see the heat blooming beneath his cheeks. âYouâre pretty. âS kinda your thing.â He shrugs. âPopular and pretty.â
Itâs a deflection. Itâs bitter. Itâs crashing through the bubble with an unceremonious pop.Â
Because yes, youâre pretty. Everyone knows it. Everyone.
Him noticing isnât any different.Â
You blink. âBut do you think Iâm pretty? Just pretty.â
He pauses, wondering, for only a split second, if this was all some kind of elaborate rouse to incriminate him. If, any minute now, Andy and Jason are going to step out from behind one of these trees, itching for a fight. Because Eddie âThe Freakâ Munson is tainting the precious queen of Hawkins High. His no-good, low-life, burn-out presence might as well stain your skin like black tar.
But he nods, nonetheless. A calculated risk; itâs shaky, not insincere.Â
And that seems to be enough because your painted lips twitch into a small smile. Itâs a breath of fresh air. If only his heart would stop pounding against his ribs like itâs trying to get out. To get to you.
âI told my friends, once, and they didnât talk to me for a day and a half.â
Your smile is gone now. And your gaze is empty as you turn back to the tree tops.Â
Eddie shifts in his seat, feeling more and more like heâs fallen through the looking glass.Â
âT-Told them what?âÂ
Heâs not sure he wants the clarification. Not sure he wants to understand. Because it doesnât seem like itâll work. Like heâll never truly understand if you say what heâ
âThat I think youâre pretty,â you mutter, turning to him again, a simple pout weighing your features down.
Fuck.
âWe were talking about crushes, and they said theirs. And they were soâŚexcitedâŚ. And Heather was trying to convince Jackie S. to tell Patrick how she felt. And I wanted to feel it too.â
He can barely breathe, so he stays silent, just letting you speak to no one in particular. Because heâs not here.Â
Not now.Â
Not on this planet.Â
Not in the same reality as the girl heâs pretended not to watch since the middle school talent show. The girl whose perfume somehow lives in his mind, though heâs never bathed in it longer than a shoulder brush through the halls. Not that girl, not in this reality.Â
Not you. Telling him heâs pretty. No wayâ
ââwanted to hear what theyâd say. Like if they would tell me weâd look cute together, or theyâd say theyâve seen you looking at me, or something, and maybe thereâs a chance.âÂ
Fuck, heâs low on E.Â
And these damn baggies donât organize wellâhe should really label them. And Reefer Rick has probably laced this new, stupid supply with something because thereâs simply no conceivable wayâ
âBut they just looked at me like I said something insane. Asked me if I was joking. They didnât believe me at firstââÂ
He snorts, twisting the skull ring around his finger until the skin underneath starts to heat. Youâre silent now, and he almost doesnât want to look. But he has to. So he does.
Your polished nails, the lipstick stained joint, thousands of wool fibers bending and yielding to the curves of your body. Then that pout, your eyes. A frown.
The baggies of pills, the weathered wood; carved initials giving way to new grain.
âYou donât believe me, either?â
Itâs so broken sounding, he has half a mind to lie and say of course he does. Of course he believes you, resident queen of Hawkins Highâthe girl who prances through school with five guys, minimum, trailing after her, lovesick and delusionally hormonalâare telling the Godâs-honest truth. That you have somehow taken a liking to the town pariah.Â
The peopleâs princess has woken up this day and decided sheâd like to bestow upon him, of all people, the greatest charity he could never repay, nor even begin to deserve.Â
And youâd say this exact thing stone-cold sober. Sure.
He could say that.Â
âUmââ he clears his throat, repeatedly dragging a dirty Reebok on the ground until a pile of curled leaves starts to grow, âI believeâŚuh, weâve probably had enough.â
Before you can make a move to stop him, he plucks the joint from between your fingers, ignoring the shock of your touch.Â
The faint sizzle of embers being extinguished on old wood is the only sound that fills the air. That, and the rustle of wind through the trees.Â
He can feel your eyes on him as he licks his fingers and pinches the end of the roll. It may very well be laced, but heâs not the wasteful type.Â
And anyway, heâs got plans later. A date with his right hand and the well-loved porno mag heâs made someâŚchangesâŚto. All while he pretends not to remember how your lips wrapped around the very same joint he hopes will last him long enough.Â
You sit up suddenly, swinging your legs over the edge of the picnic table. He nearly knocks his metal lunchbox off the seat, scrambling to avoid the brush of your skin.Â
âDo you not like me?âÂ
The words are filled with accusation, woven by insecurity, and Eddie feels insane. Clinically. Terminally, even. Thatâs not a thing, but given his luck, he could be the first man, ever, to die from a hot chick coming onto him.Â
Because what the actual fuck? Youâre looking at him like his very existence is a puzzle to you. As if you canât imagine why in the world heâd be second-guessing your confession.Â
He clears his throat, again, but chokes on his breath the second you slide down next to him, your skirt creeping impossibly higher before settling properly. And heâs up in a flash, like only the heat of you near him is all it takes to burn. And God, does it burn.
âN-No! No, I, um, IâI just donât know you.â He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. âBasically just met you today, really.â
He could almost kick himself, the way his voice jumps an octave heâs certain only liars can reach. And you seem to hold the same belief, your eyes all but say as much as you stand to follow him.Â
Leaves crunch under his shuffling footsteps, and you pause, as if realizing the space between is carefully set.Â
Itâs a choice heâs fighting to make, just as heâs fighting not to look at you. Though, one is admittedly easier than the other.
âI mean, not really. Weâve been going to the same school since, like, sixth gradeââ
He shakes his head, correcting, âYour sixth; my eighth.â
Bewilderment overtakes your frown, and he understands the semantics appear meaningless to you, but they keep him up at night. When the hours tick by and delusion creeps into the edges of his foggy mind, thoughts of fate start to sound more and more sane.Â
 âMy mom even made you that casserole when your uncle was sick.â
Oh, yeah.Â
That.Â
He remembers that day. Thinks about it when the delusion turns sour and his conscience wants to remind him what an embarrassment he is.Â
He remembers perfectly how he heard your heels clicking from down the hall. How he took one look through the small hospital window, saw you in your Sunday best and booked it to the en suite bathroom.Â
How he left Wayne to fend for himself in a state of utter confusion, never having seen his nephew move so fast. How he hid in the small space, surrounded by porcelain and that chemical smell that still makes his skin crawl. Just so he wouldnât have to face you.Â
So he wouldnât have to watch you charm his uncle, lift his spirits like you do everyone.Â
No, he only had to listen and imagine what shade of lipstick you chose to match with your outfit. Because that was way easier than seeing the cruel fluorescent lights fail to hollow you out like it did everyone who entered that godforsaken room.Â
Yeah, hearing the raspy laugh of his uncle, followed by your airy giggles through the surprisingly thin walls was a cakewalk compared to what it would have been had he been forced to smile and nod along.Â
Act as if you and he lived the same kind of life. As if one wasnât a plunder and the other a jaunt through the daisies.
Eddie paces, unable to let his twitching muscles rest. âYeah, but what does it really mean to know someone, you know? Uh oh! Iâm gettinâ philosophical now!â He chuckles, but itâs strained, and your frown comes back, unmovable this time. âProbably the weed.â
His words are stilted, and you seem too aware of this performance, but he will press on with forced amusement until you believe him. Or at least until you let him be; go on back to your bubble. Leave him to suffocate in his.Â
âAre you high? Iâm high. I think weâre both really high. Itâs so funny, itâs like I donât even know what Iâm sayingâ Blah!â He flails about, already planning on checking himself into Pennhurst after this. âThis is so crazy! We probably make no sense right now.â
You cross your arms, trudging back to the picnic table. The breeze lifts your skirt as you plop down, and Eddie turns away. Because he has to.
âIâm not that high and neither are you.â
 Itâs that damn pout thatâs going to do him in.Â
Curls twist around his fingers as he tries to hide behind his hair. âNoâŚno, Iâm pretty high.â He nods. ââMiss Hawkins 1982â is sitting here, tellinâ me sheâs got, like, whatâa crush on me?â
ââS more than a crush,â you mumble petulantly, but for his sanity, he elects to ignore it.Â
âI mean, shit! I didnât think weed had hallucinogenic properties, but you know.â His shoulders shrug in defeat, and he still canât look at you. âLearn somethinâ new every day!â
Your head cocks to the side. âSo you donât believe me?â
Eyes wide as saucers, he wonders if this is what it would feel like to explain the sky to a mole.Â
âOf course I donât believe you! You sound crazy! I mean youâreâŚâ He searches for the words, but how does one sum up almost a decade of watching? Of wantingâ âYou. âŚAnd Iâm me.â
Itâs softer. Lower. Just where he should be. Because really, youâre the sky. And heâs just a burrower. Too afraid to leave the caverns heâs carved in his mind, even for warmth. For light. For a smile that doesnât shineâ
âRightâŚâ Your mouth pulls, dim, and the huff of breath sounds derisive, like you canât possibly pass it for a laugh, but still, you try. âYouâre you, and Iâm meââ
He nods along, internalizing the sound of his own words on your lips. If you believe it, that will be enough. It will be enough.
âJust boringâŚmeââ
The sentence drips with resignation. As if itâs a truth youâve cuddled up to long enough for the feelings to subside. Roommates with your own distaste. A years-long relationship molded into resentment. He feels sick.
âWhat?â
You resituate yourself, pulling inward, and if you could transform the atoms in the air, Eddie thinks thereâd be a wall already reaching above the highest branches.Â
âNo, I justâ It makes sense.â You tug at your sweater until your hands are almost hidden, and regret nips at his bare skin, colder than the breeze. âItâs totally true; youâre so coolââ
He swallows the words, but they catch in his throat. Unusual and untrue. And despite his quiet, âCool?â that slips out, coated in disbelief, you carry on, adding brick after brick.
âYouâve got your band, and that game you love to playââ
Now thatâs just strange.Â
âD&D?â he mutters, blanching at the sentiment. Because, yeah, he thinks itâs cool. But he can count on one hand how many other Hawkins residents think the same.Â
You perk up a bit, and he feasts on the split-second of sunlight. âYeah! Thatâs the one. And you literally run a club for it. Thatâs, like, the definition of cool.âÂ
Itâs the high. Itâs the marijauna in your system. Either that, or you and he have vastly different definitions of coolâ
âAnd your music taste! I hear you drive up to school all the time; youâre always blasting that metal stuff! Itâs soâŚâ your eyes wander, as if searching for the right word and his mind fills in the usual blanks: loud, shitty, annoying, satanic. âunique!â
Youâre too good. Heâs decided it. Not because of the popularity, like he had chalked it up to before. This is different. Itâs pure.Â
And heâs tar.Â
âYou know, if I had a nickel for every time someone told me my music taste wasâŚunique, Iâd be broke,â he huffs, crossing his arms like the act will protect against your budding smile, growing back like the first bloom of May flowers.
âWell, Iâm sure they just havenât tried it yet.â And youâre so sure. He can hear the optimism in your voice and itâs deafening.Â
But then, itâs like time reverses, and in comes the April shower to drown the delicate bud; you retreat into yourself, again. Smile fading, insecurity rearing.Â
âIâve never⌠I meanâ Iâve never really tried it before, either.âÂ
Now you wonât look at him, and the insinuation of your words alone is enough to haunt him.Â
With a sigh, he closes the distance, sitting beside you on the bench. For a moment, he only listens to his own pulse. The rushing in his ears. He waits for the confidence to speak, unaware itâs a bus that will never come.Â
But impatience gets the best of him, and he decides to walk it.
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to make you feelâ Itâs justâ I justââ He groans, watching the thoughts pass him by while he fails to hang onto even one. His skin feels too tight and heâs certain the only solution is to peel it off his miserable bones. âI donât know why I am the way that I am.â
The admission rings out like a shot in the autumn air, and the silence that follows lands like an atom bomb, breaking the sound barrier in a mushroom cloud of mortifying truth.
He doesnât know why he said it.Â
Why he thought cutting himself down while youâre bleeding makes some sort of difference. How it could possibly count as some kind of balm to your wounds.Â
But you wear your wounds well. And truth leaks from you without loss. It pools without inhibition. Not yielding, but seeping. Filling the cracks in himâthe tunnels that quakeâwith something malleable and pure. Not viscous and sticky. Not like tar.Â
His head hangs low, eyes following the way your thumb smooths over your wool skirt. Then his gaze tracks downward, and he wishes it wouldnât. But your skin looks so soft, and he traces the curving terrain until he sees your pearly-white Keds digging into the dirt.Â
You could probably make it to China before he finds the right words to fix this.
âYou know, Iâve never had to convince a girl not to like me.â The quirk of his lips doesnât change the tone, despite his best efforts.Â
You cross your ankles, old wood creaking under you. âNo?â
Itâs simple. Gentle. Youâre humoring him. And itâs a kindness he canât afford, but you give it to him anyway, charity case that he is.
âNo.â He huffs, something like a snicker but without the joke. âUsually, itâs the opposite.â
More atomic silence. And he starts to wonder if he ever actually learned how to behave properly. If he fundamentally misunderstands how to have a conversation.Â
Or maybe he was just swapped at birth with an alien whose sole purpose is to elicit discomfort. And maybe thereâs a human version of him out there, travelling among the stars, charming and suave, dripping with bravado. Yeah, thatâs probably it. Thatâs what heâllâ
âWhatâs the argument then?â
His brows furrow, and he swings his head to look at you. But the second his eyes meet yours, he has to force himself not to flee. Not to make a cowardâs retreat.Â
âWhat?â
âThe argument,â you respond coolly. âHow are you gonna persuade me not to like you?â
God, he wishes youâd stop saying it. Maybe itâd be easier to hear if it didnât sound so earnest. If it didnât sound like it came from a well of truth.
His foot taps on the ground as he thinks, hands flexing restlessly. âWellâŚI guess I kind of thought the everything about me was argument enough.â
You stare silently, and his flesh might as well be made of a cellophane the way your gaze seems to expertly track the gears turning in his mind.Â
âBut clearly not,â he murmurs.
Your lips quirk. âNope.âÂ
The glint in your eyes should scare him. Should shake him to his core. Because thereâs something about this particular glimmerâŚÂ
With the determination of a predator poised to attack, or a vulture itching to pick him apart, you watch. Quietly. Waiting. Itâs the kind of look only the helpless are on the other side of. He should be terrified.Â
But heâs not. His hands arenât shaking out of fear, and his stomach doesnât flip out of nerves.Â
No, itâs something else entirely.
Your chin tips, and your smile curls around the words. âTo ensure a fair hearing, the court must consider all evidence; Mr. Munson, you may proceed.âÂ
His grin stretches, and he turns his body the slightest bit towards you.Â
âOkay,â he nods, pondering the laundry list of reasons he has locked and loaded, ready to go. Whoâs the lucky winner? Whatâs the bare minimum he can share without mortally wounding his prideâwell, more than it already is. âAlright, well, sometimes I forget to wear deodorant, and I end up smelling really bad.âÂ
Before he has a chance to regret his choice, your laugh drowns out every doubt. It cracks through him with an unbearable weight, leaving behind splintered shards of bone instead of prison bars. His heartbeat sounds louder now.
And for a momentâonly a momentâhe forgets why he said anything at all. He forgets the point. He forgets that the melody floating from your lips doesnât belong in his dysfunctional orchestra.Â
But the urge is there. To hear it again. To be the cause.Â
Your eyes squint from the size of your smile. âShut up.âÂ
Locked in your gravitational pull, he moves closerâminutely, and he wouldnât if he could help it.Â
âNo, Iâm serious! Itâs bad! Thatâs why I gotta leave school early sometimes, I start to smell like vegetable soup by 2 p.m.â
His grin is stuck as he watches your head fall back, the melody growing stronger, lodging somewhere deep in his brain. Between cobwebs and old, out-of-tune earworms. He imagines bottling the sound and building a shelf just to hold it.
âYouâre an idiot,â you huff breathlessly, the word not carrying the same sting it usually would if it came from anyone else. Because thereâs no bite to it. No teeth, even.
He leans in before he can stop himself. âAh, see, thatâs a good one, too! Iâm an idiot!â
But the melody quiets, and the violins screech a nasty response as your smile starts to fall.
âNo, youâre not.â
Itâs firm and final, like you truly believed it even before it slipped from your lips.
âYes, I am,â he says, soft yet steadfast. âIâm a three-time super senior army crawling my way to a âDâ in Mrs. OâDonnellâs class. And Iâve had two full tries at it.âÂ
You cock your head, eyeing him closely. Thenâ
âWell, practice makes perfect. Plus, I think itâs totally your year.â
Your smile is back and so is the warmth in Eddieâs body. If he had any sense, heâd steer the conversation elsewhere, because somehow, youâve managed to flirt with him over his tragic academic history. Youâre too powerful. You and your honeyed words, so sweet and thick, he could choke if heâs not careful.
He shifts, but canât bring himself to move away. âOkayâŚwhat about thisâI wanna do music.â
Your brows raise and he can tell you see through his pitiful attempt.Â
âWellâŚyouâre in a band,â you shrug. âI kind of already knew thatââ
âNo, like, professionally. Thatâs what I wanna do. I wanna go to L.A. and, I donât know, like, get a record deal and shit, and just make music.â The light still shines in your eyes and he knows youâre not getting it. âNo college for me, no office job, no suburbsâno picket fence kind of life.â
Your gaze never strays from his. âEddie, thatâs not a bad thing. Thatâsâthatâs inspiring.â
God, youâre making this hard. Especially when you look at him like thatâlike heâs something to be enamored by. Something worth looking at. Something prettyâŚÂ
âNo,â he shakes his head, clinging to the reality where you arenât leaning closer to him, where your soft, perfumed skin doesnât brush against his rough, bargain-bin jeans. âNo, itâs a pipedream. Itâs basically me begging to live in a van for the rest of my life because you and I both know it will neverââ
âEddie,â you cut in, grabbing his hand, âlet me save you the energy. Thereâs nothing you can say that will stop how I feel. This isnât a new thing. Iâm not going through a phase. Itâs not just a blip or a crushâ I like you, Eddie Munson.â
His heartbeat slows, skipping every third thud like an old record, and he now knows the weight of your hand in his.Â
And for the first time since his fingers brushed yours while passing the joint, he canât look away. No amount of self-control or misplaced willpower can drag him up from the depths of your imploring gaze.Â
âI like you a lot. Youâre sweet,â and his face mustâve twitched because you grin and add, âWhen youâre not trying to act all tough and broody.â
Cellophane. Heâs complete cellophane around you. Weak and pliant and see-through. His posturing means nothing, and he wonders if you always knew that.Â
If every snide comment to the jocks came with a footnote in the smallest print only you could read: Iâm jealous they get your time. They donât deserve it.Â
If every breezy look elsewhere gave him away as youâd walk past his table in the lunchroom, swaying skirt billowing in the winds of his repression.
ââand you make me laugh, and youâre honest.â Your hand squeezes his and he canât quite bring himself to hold it yet. To open up. To keel over and admit defeat. âI just feel like everyone hereâŚpretends to live the life they think they should live. But you donât do that. You just live. And I think thatâs beautiful.âÂ
Your chin tips low and he has a near physical reaction from losing the heat of your attention.Â
âI think youâre beautiful.â
His mind whirs, sirens blare, but theyâre silent. Unhelpful. Useless. Exactly what he feels like in the wake of your confession. And the only thought he can hold onto long enough to realize itâs just as useless is: he should buy a lottery ticket, or something.Â
âIââÂ
He watches you shift, doesnât hear you breathe.Â
âIâŚthink you stole my lineâŚâ
The pitiful excuse for a chuckle comes too late. Too weak to sound genuine, but just strong enough to deflect. Because thatâs what heâs good at, right? Deflecting? Distracting?Â
Rejecting, apparently. At least thatâs how you seem to take it, the way your hand slips from his so easily. The way your shoulders hunch and your legs squeeze together.Â
Small. Youâre making yourself small for him.Â
And heâs just too unsteady. Heâs not firing on all cylinders, not since you clipped his wires a ways back. Somewhere around youâre pretty and I like you. Just left of I told my friends and down the street from youâre cool.Â
âSorry. That wasâŚa lot. God.â Your frown is back and you turn to say something, then give up before you even start. A beat. Then, âIâIâm sorry if I scared you off with all of that.â
You say it as if the momentâs done. As if heâs not still clinging to your words with a white-knuckled grip.Â
And you retreat.Â
Not in any real way.Â
No, youâre still sitting next to him, still closer than ever before, but now, chipping away at your nail polish seems to be far more interesting than anything he could offer.Â
âWellâŚIâm still hereâŚâ he tries, unsure.
âYeahâŚ. Youâre still here,â you echo quietly. Â
Showing mercy to your manicure, you shove your hands into your lap, twisting your fingers up. He recognizes the movement. The attempt to banish the need. The need to touch. Heâs felt it too. Feels it now.Â
The bricks stack higher as your wall grows; a structure never meant to be scaled.Â
But heâs a burrower.Â
âYou knowâŚâ he ponders, forcing the humor from his tone. âIâm starting to think maybe itâs not the weedâŚâ
That gets you.Â
He hears the melody again, sees your wry smile.
âShut up,â you whine, shoving his chest.
He moves fast and with grace as he traps your hand with his, holding your palm just over where your first laugh torpedoed his ribcage. Where the prisoner waits.Â
âYour heartâs beating so fast,â you whisper, voice full of aweâthe kind that quickly begins to carve away at his weakened flesh.Â
He huffs, low and earnest. âYeahâŚ. The prettiest girl in Hawkins just told me she likes me and thereâs nothing I can do about it. Youâre lucky I havenât gone into cardiac arrest over this.â
You smirk, and he thinks it might just kill him. Like actually.Â
âHm, well, now I feel like Iâm kind of missing out on thatâŚâ
He snorts, his grin stretching wide. âOh, yeah? You want me to keel over right here, right now?â
Your smile turns demure and he knows itâs a lie. Then, you give an innocent shrug that canât even fool him.Â
âI mean, Iâm not saying I wouldnât be extremely flatteredââ
He jolts suddenly, grunting and groaning, curling his fingers tighter around your hand as he falls back against the edge of the wooden picnic top.Â
You gasp, turning to prop a knee on the bench as you lean over his stiff body. âOh my God, medic!â Your empty call echoes in the air, amusement bubbling just beneath the surface. Then, your voice falls to a low mutter. âOhh, what do I do, what do I do? Damnit, I shouldâve paid more attention in First Aid.â
Eddie convulses some, really driving the near Oscar-worthy performance home. Then he peeks an eye open, choking out, âM-Mmm-mouth.â
Your mask slips as you smirk, leaning closer. âSorry, what was that? I didnât quite catch it over all the dying.â
He slumps even more, the table digging beneath his shoulderblades as he sputters, âMmm-mouth-to-mouthââ
You sit back, chewing the inside of your cheek and leveling him with an assessing stare as he twitches. âNoâŚthat canât be itâŚâ
Both eyes open as he brokenly utters, âNo, it definitely isâ With tongue! The tongue helpsââÂ
You snicker, âOh, yeah? Itâs a necessity?â
He squeezes your hand. âYeah, bigâbig necessity.â
You lean in, so close, and his mind turns to static as your perfume invades his senses.Â
This is it. Itâs going to happen. Almost a decade of dreams that left him waking up in sticky discomfort, and heâs going to know the taste ofâ
âSee, I just donât remember that in the course,â you shrug, pulling away abruptly. âMouth-to-mouth, sure, but adding tongue?â
One last shot, he reaches into the sky dramatically, convulses, then slackens in a lifeless heap, accented by his best death rattle.
He hears you call out, some half-assed plea that wouldnât convince a soul, but then everything stops. Your lips slot against his, soft and plush and timid, and you might as well have used the paddles, the way his system shocks into action.
His hand finally releases yours, but you donât move it, and he settles a gentle grip on the back of your head. Heavy enough to beg for more, soft enough to leave room for an escape, if you so choose.Â
But you donât. Instead, your tongue glides along his top lipâa teasing kind of sweetness he accepts gladly, thankfully. He responds in kindâin hunger.
He can taste your cherry lip gloss, hear your surprised hum. Itâs a tiny sort of sound he swallows with a groan of his own.Â
Then the pressure is gone. The taste, the noisesâall gone. The music has stopped and the dizzying dance comes to an end with a blinding grin.
âOh my God, itâs a miracle,â you pant, smoothing your palm up his chest until you reach skin.
He sits up, dazed, and you donât move away, just letting him hover close like the proximity isnât debilitating.
His next words slur out before he has a chance to think of a smoother lineâ âHave you ever considered becoming a doctor?â
And you laugh. And heâs learning that maybe you donât want smooth. Because if you did, he certainly wouldnât be your first call, and you wouldnât be so quick to serenade every dumb comment of his.
So he thanks whoever rents the big house in the sky that you have a thing for burnouts and tries not to choke as you slide onto his lap, your pretty skirt splaying out across worn fabric.Â
Your lips find his again, your fingers get lost in his hair, you donât bother hovering, and he starts writing a mental Last Will and Testament.Â
Jeff will get his Sweetheart, Mike will get his D&D manuals, Dustin will get his cassette tapes, and Gareth will finally get those twenty bucks heâs been whining about since last summer. Heâll leave it to Grant to dispose of his stash, and in payment, he can have the stack of porno mags under his bed.Â
Though, he might just give them away whether he dies or not, because heâs pretty sure, with the way youâre pressing down on him, theyâll soon be rendered useless.Â
Goosebumps rise along heated skin and something prickles up his spine as your nails rake through his curls. His mouth works against yours, a mind of its own as its aim widens, and heâs suddenly nipping down your jaw, tasting the tang of perfume on your neck.Â
Your chest racks with heavy, panting breaths and noises that sound like earnest attempts at his name. Itâs intoxicating. His lips swell from struggling to keep up with his greed, but he canât stop. Thereâs a burning kind of ache deep within him, and itâs growing.Â
His hands find their way to your hips, and he canât tell if itâs you who moves freely, grinding down like youâre searching for something, or if itâs him and the ravenous need heâs not certain can be controlled.Â
âFuckââ
âEddie,â you call, tightening the grip on his hair until he groans. His cock flexes, straining against the oppressive zipper of his jeans and missing a kind of warmth heâs itching to know.
âHm?â he grunts into your neck, barely aware. Heâs pretty sure he could devour you whole. But then again, heâd much rather savor you, pick you apart and feast on your supple flesh for ages. The smallest little bites until your sweet noises grow louder and louder; scratchy and desperate like the mindless roll of your hips against denim.
âE-Eddieââ
Your voice pitches up, his name breaking on the crest of your movements, and you hunch toward him like the pleasure is a weight your shoulders canât possibly bear.Â
And something twists in his gut then, something raw and hungry.Â
He wants to hear that again. Hear his name shatter on your tongue as his hands explore beneath your dainty skirt. He wants to feel the vibrations of your moans as he kisses every inch of you.Â
âMm, yeah, baby?â
âI wantâ Want you,â you grit out, like the words take effort you can barely muster.Â
âFuckâ I know, I wanâ you, too. So bad. So fuckinâ bad.âÂ
If it were any other time, he might feign control. Might deepen his voice with a confidence he doesnât have. But this is not just any other time. Itâs you, in his lap, whispering needy little pleas into the air like itâs obvious. Simple necessity. Like heâs not just a warm body and youâre not picturing someone else.Â
His fingers curl into the waistband of your skirt, and itâs as if you remembered there was more to be said because your hips stall and you press against his chest.Â
He swallows the disgruntled whine, and accepts your direction. Doubt creeps into the fog of his mind, but you donât leave him time to get lost when your thumbs smooth over the stubble on his jaw, the worry in your eyes outweighing his.
âEddie, I, um, I wantâyou,â you finish stiltedly, looking at him like youâre waiting for the penny to drop. âBut, I, uh, Iâve neââ It spins. âI donât reallyââ And spins. âI mean, not that Iâm, likeââ And spins. âIâve just never reallyââ
It drops, a metallic clang bouncing off the walls of his skull, and suddenly he feels like he shouldnât touch you at all. His hands hover over your hips and the something-molten deep in his gut turns out to be much more familiar than he thought. Hot, bubbling, careless and incessant in its need to stain. To contaminate.Â
âNever?â His brows furrow, trying to decipher the discomfort on your face. If itâs himâif itâs the tarâhe might just leave town now. Screw graduation. Screw a diplomaâ âLike never ever?â
Stupid question. At this rate, he should look into surgically removing his foot from his mouth before he tries to speak nextâ
âGuess I was justâŚwaiting,â you shrug, thumbing the hem of his shirt. Then your movements become less innocent as your nails trail against his skin. So light, if he werenât acutely aware of everything you do, if his stomach didnât twitch in time with his restless cock, he wouldnât have caught it.Â
âSweetheart,â he almost warns, feeling like he misconstrued this moment for something serious, when clearly, youâre toying with him, spreading your palms along his waistband like you canât see him shiver. Like you canât feel his length straining beneath you, flexing against its jean prison, reaching for the warmth of your core.Â
âS-Sweetheart,â he repeats, the endearment sounding more and more like a plea as you rake your nails through the wiry curls just below his navel.Â
You go on, apparently undeterred by his fraying control. âIâve been on datesââÂ
He doesnât care. His eyes track yours and the glide of your tongue along kiss-bitten lips.Â
âGuys have triedââ
Okay, he cares. What?Â
âIâve just never reallyâwanted to.â
Fuck.Â
You grind down, passing the motion off as adjusting your position, but Eddie doesnât trust that gleam in your eyes. And you confirm it in the way your palms smooth down his arms until you press his hands to your hips. Making him touch you. Contaminate you. You encourage it, even. Wrapping your grip around his wrists as you guide his hands beneath your wool top.Â
âBut itâs different with you.â
He shudders.Â
âSweetheart.âÂ
Itâs certainly a plea, now. A cry for mercy as your fingers return to the sensitive skin just above his waistband, travelling up, up, up until heâs entirely covered in goosebumps, and he worries you can feel the pitiful call of the convict in his chest.Â
âI donât want to. Thatâs not what it feels likeââ
God damnit, heâs so confused and all the blood rushed from his brain long ago. Thereâs nothing up there anymore.
ââS not like that. âS like,â you lean in close, letting him feel the words against his lips before he ever hears them, âa need. Like thereâs something missing right now.â You roll your hips and he chokes on the breath he was holding. âAnd I thinkâ No, I know, if I could justâfeel youâŚinside meâI would be okay again. Better.â
âOh, f-fuck,â he groans, thrusting up with the coordination of a muscle spasm. He lets his forehead fall against yours in an attempt to gather control. âYouâyou canât just say shit like that.â
You peck his lips and he chases the small affection. âBut itâs true. I donât wanâ anyone else. Just want you. Inside me.â
âJesus Christ,â he grits out, trapping you in a kiss that borders on consumption more than anything sweet.Â
He can feel you everywhere: on top of him, in his hair, under his shirt, sinking claws into his sides; your touch is kindling to the fire raging low inside him.Â
Suddenly, heâs reminded of the foiled condom he removed from his wallet just the other day. The old thing was practically useless, worn down and crumpled from years of sitting idle in between the folds of cracked leather. But something is better than nothing, and now heâs cursing his past-self for his terminal case of realism.Â
The clink of metal draws his attention back, and he hadnât noticed your lips leave his or how your hands have grown eager, already past his belt and now fiddling with the button on his jeans.Â
âWanna feel you, Eddie. I need to,â your honeyed whines wash over his body, sending a buzz through his veins. But then the purring sound of his zipper sliding open reminds himâ
âShit,â his hand wraps around your wrist. âWait, I donâtâ I donât have anything,â he admits lowly, miserably.Â
You smile, kissing around his mouth like youâre drawing the shame out, and him in. âItâs okayâŚ. I just want you,â you repeat, firmer this time. âAll of you.â
And something inside him rumbles, something sick and starving. Once-weak, but now growing in strength. Itâs mean and sharp, with teeth that can cut through steel and an appetite that can devour innocence whole.
Itâs not unfamiliar, this beast. Heâs known it for ages. Itâs an old friend. A confidant. Something to speak to in the darkest moments, but never to trust. Something to surrender to during the sweatiest nights, when his hand cramps but the need still aches. Still hungers.Â
Itâs got an imagination, too. Twisted as can be, it preens at the thought of possession, of staying. Of skin stretching and bones shifting, of curly-haired children that have your eyes and his smile. Soccer practice between label meetings, the sun beating down on hot sand as little feet kick at his back. A ring with weight and a necklace to match.
Itâs like a plague on his thoughts. But itâs not. Not really. Because he doesnât have to fear the lies anymore. The want. The bubbles are melding, his world is clashing with yours. And the beast tells the truth, now.
âYouâre gonna be the death of me,â he mutters against your lips, the words sounding more like a warning than anything.
âMmm,â you hum, trailing your affection down his neck. âBeen there, done that. Iâd rather keep you alive for this.â
And youâve crossed his wires so expertly, heâs practically sparking beneath your touch.Â
Imbued with a new kind of power, he slides you from his lap before shucking his leather jacket off and swinging it onto the tableâs surface. His shirt follows with, finding a strategic home among the layers.Â
You seem to catch on because you climb onto the table, laying yourself out just like before. He grins, helping you out of your top, only to fold it up and leave it where your head can rest.Â
Both of you pause, taking just a moment to stare. Openly.Â
He tracks your gaze as it trails across his chest, noting each tattoo. Then his eyes widen as you distractedly remove your bra like itâs nothing, like he hasnât fucked his fist to the thought of this very moment.Â
The material slides down your arms and you settle back, pretty as a picture, laid out all for him.Â
âJesusâŚChrist, sweetheart, fuck.âÂ
You smirk, and thereâs that gleam again. Evil and conniving and heâs a willing victim, first in line, and hopefully last.
âSee anything you like?â
He gulps, kneeling on the bench below, itching to touch you, but holding onto manners with a white-knuckled grip. âYeah. See a whole lot.âÂ
âThen what are you waiting for?â You grab his hand, guiding it to your breast with a squeeze. âThis isnât a museum, you can touch.âÂ
âOh, s-shit,â he stutters, losing all decorum as his other hand joins in, kneading the supple skin. Your sighs possess him, and before he can overthink it, his mouth closes around your nipple, tongue circling and laving at the tightening peak.Â
âE-Eddie!â Your hand flies to his curls and he groans, parting his lips wider, needing to feel more of you in his mouth.Â
You writhe beneath him, a victim of a fiendish kind of gluttony as he moves to your other breast, tweaking the wet peak he left behind.Â
He explores your body zealously, taking his time tasting and nipping every bit he can reach until you start tugging at the roots of his hair, forcing him up.Â
âNeed you,â you huff breathlessly, yanking at his jeans. âNow.â
âW-Waitââ his hands land on yours, slowing your movements.
Your mouth parts as you look up at him, wide-eyed and completely desperate, and he feels his control unspooling like flimsy yarn.Â
âNo, Eddie, I already told youââ
âItâs not that,â he shakes his head, kissing you quiet. âI justâ We canât justâŚâ
You watch him patiently, clinging onto every half-thought he struggles to produce.Â
âI gottaâ No, Iâwant to make this good for youâŚobviously,â he grunts, cringing at the lack of suavity. âAnd to do that, um, we canât justâŚâ
You nod, encouraging him as his face grows hot. Thereâs not a snowballâs chance in hell heâll be able to explain the concept of foreplay to you right now. Not when youâre looking at him like that, bare and ready for him.
So he sighs and kisses you once more, this time slow and careful. Full of things he canât quite say, but he hopes you understand.Â
âYou trust me, right?âÂ
âOf course,â you respond instantly, eyes shining so bright.
He swallows, rubbing a thumb along your cheek. âAnd youâll let me take care oâ you?â
You lean into his touch, almost shy as you nod. âYeah. YesâŚplease.â
And a piece of him breaks off, then.Â
Splintered by your soft words, the plea that landed like a hammer on his scuffed lacquer.
One single chip in the barrier, and the beast rises in a crashing escape.Â
His lips find yoursâmessy, needy.Â
Wanton greed curls around every cracked rib, reaching out like smoke unfurling. Searching for something to envelop, to take. To take and take and take. Your breath, your taste, you. It wants it all.Â
He wants it all.Â
The words tumble out too easily. âSuch pretty manners, huh?âÂ
You shudder, hiding your face in the curve of his jaw.Â
âPretty manners in a pretty girl,â he practically purrs, letting his hands slip down your body until his fingers invade the waistband of your pleated skirt. âGonna let me take care oâ you, hm? Gonna let me get you all nice and ready?â
Your breathy sigh warms his neck as he shimmies the fabric down your legs, laying you back, gently.Â
You squirm beneath his gaze, squeezing your thighs together. âEddieâŚâ
âShh, patience, pretty,â he murmurs, trailing a finger along your curving terrain until heâs toying with the powder blue fabric. âGotta be good for me. Think you can do that?â
âMhm,â you hum, choking on the note as he softly pushes your legs apart.Â
âOhh, look at youâŚâ His eyes darken and he thinks he could get used to this. To seeing you all laid out for him like a meal. A feast that could last him forty days and forty nights.Â
You shift, almost imperceptibly, as he drags your panties down, but he noticed. He always does with you. âBe good,â he warns lowly.
âIâm trying.â
Your whine falls to static as he watches a single string of arousal cling to the blue gusset with a fragile strength he aches to snap.Â
The trees rustle overhead and the sun peeks through, lending a perfect spotlight to your wet folds, and he groans, pocketing your underwear with little consideration.Â
âFuck, youâre so god damn gorgeous, baby, think Iâm losinâ my mind,â he mutters, kneading the fat of your thighs.Â
âEddie,â you call, wiggling into his grip, and heâs never been more certain that youâre a temptress put on this earth to destroy him and everything that he tries to be. Controlled. Polite. Genetlemanly.Â
Every stuttering breath, every twitch of your hips, every slow blinkâyouâre chiseling away at the lacquer, unaware of all that lies beneath.
âEddie, plâease!âÂ
His middle and ring fingers glide through your folds while his opposite hand holds your hips down as you try to grind onto him.Â
âKnew youâd make the prettiest sounds. âŚPretty sounds, pretty manners, pretty girl,â he chants the words like a mantra, entranced as he raises his fingers up to watch your arousal glisten in the evening light. âPretty.â
You whimper, and suddenly it feels like heâs been pulled from the depths as he stares down at your face, pinched in pleasure. Youâre waiting as patiently as you can and he has to reward that.
He spreads your folds once more, listening intently as he slips a finger inside. Your broken moan speaks almost directly to his cock, and he can feel a stream of precum soaking his boxers.
You call his name again, your chest moving in perfect time with the pulse of your warm walls. He responds to your plea for more with a second finger, and your nails sink into his wrist.Â
âDoinâ so good for me, baby. So good,â he utters restlessly, leaning closer to your soaked cunt. He glances up, notes your closed eyes, and decides to feed the beast.Â
With one stolen moment, he breathes deep, cataloguing the scent. Your perfume, your cherry lotion, and now you. The most intimate of all. And he canât stop now.Â
He knows your touch, your heady scent; he wants to know your taste, too. The real thing. Not just your lip gloss or your languid tongue in his mouth. He needs to know you deeply, fervently.
His fingers drag inside you, a slight curl every time you buck your hips. He hears your whines, sees you dripping down his hand, shimmery and inviting.Â
Then he pulls out, much to your loud chagrin. And before he can scrounge up any last attempt at control, his fingers are in his mouth and heâs groaning at the tasteâso sweet, he could choke.Â
âOh, fuck,â he grumbles, mouth full as you stare at him. He almost feels the need to apologize. He robbed you of the friction you were so desperately seeking just so he could be selfish. Though, he feels like he might never stop being selfish around you, so maybe heâll allow the precedent.
Heâll blame the beast. Itâs not really him.Â
Itâs not him who wants to drown in you, force you to ride his face until he passes out. Itâs not him who wants to leave bite marks along your quivering thighs until salt coats your cheeks and you beg him just to fuck you.Â
Itâs not him who wants to live in your sweltering heat, carve out a place for himself. Make your walls know the shape of his cock, feel you milk him dry until something takes and youâre his and a part of him is yours.
Itâs not him, itâs the rotted want.Â
The need that grows hot, like a wound that has festered long enough. A gash you cut into him sometime ago.Â
Bleeding for years and he never even knew it.Â
The infection has driven him mad.Â
But heâs beginning to think maybe youâre suffering just the same. Fevered skin and heavy limbs, weak from the wait. Like him. Withered and hungry. So long watching the haveâs, resolved to be a have notâÂ
âEddie, please, I need you.â Your hips search for him, for pleasure, for friction, and he drops lower, his breath spreading over your fluttering folds.
âI know, sweets, I know. But I gotta get you all ready, gotta make it good for you,â he whispers, staring as fresh arousal glints in the golden rays. Itâs like youâre trying to entice, to coax.Â
ââS already good,â you slur, and it sounds like the words are burning to ash on your tongue. He can feel you overheating. ââS so good, please, justââ
âSaid you trust me, right?â He smooths a hand up your body until he finds your breast, kneading it some more.Â
âYes,â you huff, scooting closer to him.Â
He licks his lips, and the lie comes quicker than heâd like. âJust a little bit more. Wanna make sure youâre all reââ
His voice becomes muffled as he presses his face against your cunt like a starved, rabid thing. Your fingers thread deep through his curlsâa knee-jerk reactionâand he laps at you with open-mouthed kisses and agonizingly precise flicks of his tongue.Â
You squeal and your thighs threaten to close around his head, but his fingers sink into the supple flesh, prying you open as his tongue breaches your slit with pointed thrusts.Â
Your back bows, arching high off the table and he pulls you closer to him, finally satisfying what has felt like an insatiable ache.Â
Because itâs different with you. Heâs never felt thisâŚfull. Every pulse, every lewd slurp, fills him; he gorges himself on you. On your taste, on the way your moans crash over themselves like waves trying to drag you both under.Â
His fingers slip in once more and your body goes rigidâthe perfect picture of marbleized ecstasy. His tongue circles your clit and pleasure carves into your every curve, sculpting a release that courses through you like rolling thunder.
His name dies a thousand times on your parted lips, and your hips begin to flee.Â
âO-Oh, God!â
He slows to a stop, smoothing a thumb over your twitching muscles. âFuck, you taste so goodâ Knew you would,â he pants, sucking his fingers clean. He settles over you, whispering against your mouth. âKnew you wouldââ
âTell me Iâm yours.â
Itâs sudden. An order.
Every syllable hammers into him, shattering something fragile. Shards of controlâof disbelief, of belongingâbite at his skin. Heâs paralyzed by it, a nerve punctured somewhere deep inside.
And you look worried, like that simple sentence wasnât meant to land so heavy, but you donât take it back. Instead, âTell me I can be yours.â
He swallows hard, nearly choking on nothing.
He has wanted. Longer than you, he thinks.
But itâs all been in vain.Â
Then you show up, move mountains and shift worlds with only your audacious honesty and a quarter of a joint for courage. He could really learn a thing or two from youâ
âYeah,â he whispers, staring into eyes he never thought heâd see this close. âYouâre mine.âÂ
With a shuddering breath and a kiss so gentle, heâs almost certain reality falls away, his mind latches onto the moment your hands blindly find his jeans, urging the material down his thighs.Â
He helps you, watching intently as you take him inâall of himâhis cock weeping and flexing, reaching for something he never imagined asking for.Â
You donât speak, but he sees a reflection in the shine of your iris. Itâs familiar. It commands. It guides as you drag your fingers along corded muscle with a level of reverence that leaves him dizzy.Â
Peering down, he holds back every sound, his chest heaving from the marathon of your touch.Â
Youâre pacing yourself. Exploringâtesting, in a way, like youâre figuring out what makes him tick.Â
Confidently kneading here, a delicate brush there.Â
Sinew twitching, his length jumping, stomach flipping.Â
Your nails rake through the dark curls at his navel and you follow the trail until it grows coarse, an observant hum at his bodyâs reaction.Â
âPretty,â you mutter lowly.Â
His frame trembles, the single word falling from your lips like a ton of bricks.Â
As your hands wander, you donât bother with permission and that almost makes him double over.Â
Thereâs no question of can I? Thereâs only the surety of being yours, like an apodictic artifact youâve excavated from a shallow grave.Â
Because he did lay it to rest.Â
So many times.Â
Every morning his head lifted from his pillow, he buried it again. Every time your skirt caressed his desk, he threw roses. Every laugh he never caused, he said a prayer.Â
But he could not abide an eternity of peace.Â
Darkness would fall and heâd dig and dig and dig, the dirt already loose and the trees whispering their greetings. Heâd drag up old ghostsâtruths only meant for the moonâand dance with them all night.Â
Then, like clockwork, golden light would send him reaching for the shovel; the sun would rise and he was resolved to live without.Â
Now itâs you who has disturbed the holy ground and itâs freeing. To be exposed. To be known.
Your gaze settles on his face, and he wishes he could understand the thoughts in your mind, the ramblings behind your eyes.Â
For a second, he thinks he recognizes the quiet curve of your lips, butâ
âSo pretty.â
He chokes, his body jerking as your hand circles his cock, firm, yet gentle. Possessive.Â
Your unwavering attention and innocent smile turns the blood in his veins molten. His hips buck into your grip, unintentionally coating your soft palm in the sticky precum dribbling from his tip.
âS-Shit, sweetheartââÂ
He hunches over, weathered wood scratching against his knees as he tries to warn, to caution you on just how easy he is. How little effort itâd take him to lose it, to let himself fuck your hand like a poor, desperate slip of a thing.Â
âIâm ready,â you say, leading him down. âPlease.â
He allows your thighs to hitch onto his hips, allows you to hold him, and he allows himself to be this close. To find purchase between your legs, to indulge in the heat of your core.Â
He memorizes your featuresâthe determined furrow of your brow, the flutter of your lashes. The version of you before him.Â
He so badly wants to tell you what he sees. Â
âGod, youâreâ Fuck!â
Your breath hitches as you press his cock to your folds, and he tries for coherence, but it all falls away when he feels you. Soft and wet and so inviting; youâre killing him slowly.Â
âPlease, Eddie,â you huff, your hips rolling like you mean to catch him. âNeed to feel you, I swear toââ
The sentence shatters on a sharp moan the moment he takes control, letting his length glide against your slit. Heâs coated in no time, practically drowning in you, but he doesnât stop.Â
Itâs like a trance, the way he moves, watching fresh drops of precum mix with your arousal. He wants to taste that, too. You and him, together. He wants to know.Â
You donât seem to notice his paralysis, instead focusing on bucking your hips just right, and when his tip catches on your entrance, something shocks him into motion.Â
Your body wraps around him shallowly, sucking the blunt edge of him in. He doesnât fight it, doesnât ignore your babbled pleas for more.Â
For once in his life, he allows himself to take. Itâs not begrudging permission, not shameful resignation to his more selfish nature. Itâs enthusiastic, itâs encouraged, itâs accepted.
He pushes into you slowly, meeting your parted lips with ragged breaths, and your walls cling to him in a joyous welcome. Your pulse drums against his length, squeezing him in a sudden clench; he thinks he mutters advice, something about relaxing, but heâs not sure.Â
Reality is bending and heâs thought about this so much, imagined this very moment countless times, and yet, nothing could have prepared him for how your nails take a chunk out of him, how youâre trying with all your might to pull his hips closer, huffing in impatience and cracking under the need.
Youâre just like him.Â
He hadnât realized it until now.Â
He saw shadows, heard the strain of your voice.Â
But he hadnât looked in your eyes, hadnât been near enough to hear the call.Â
The call of the hungry and withered. Of the wanton and greedy.Â
He hears it now. Loud and clear.
Responding in a bellowing groan, he sinks into you fully. His lips flutter over your face, savoring your once-delicate features as they warp in pleasure.Â
âF-Fuck! Edâ Eddie, more,â you cry, squirming for friction.Â
âMore,â he echoes mindlessly, latching onto the order. A real kiss, sweet and loaded like a gun soon to go off, then, âMore. The pretty girl wants moreâ Gets what she wants.â
The words fall from his tongue with little thoughtâlittle care. Static whirs in his brain, blocking out everything but you.Â
Drawing back steadily, he steals one more glance at youâchecking inâthen drops down in a sudden snap, guided by your fingers digging into the taut muscle of his ass.Â
Sweat beads at his spine as his skin sticks to yours on every impact. His arms hook under your knees, changing the angle just to hear that shrill whine heâs quickly growing addicted to.Â
All you manage to say is his name, over and over again like his thrusts are evicting every syllable from your chest.Â
The shadows rise, spreading rapidly, and it feels much like possession coursing through him.Â
He shudders, his stuttered breaths syncopating with the pulse of your cunt, choking him on every shove in. Your eyes have rolled back now, and your body moves with him, pliant, as if his to moldâto inflict upon, however he sees fit.Â
A malleable offering of sheer innocence, laid at his altar.Â
And it was your idea.Â
The lambâs idea to come to slaughter.Â
âF-Feels good, huh?â he grits, watching you surrender to him so beautifully.Â
Your response catches, snagged halfway up your throat, clawed back by a resounding whimper as you nod.Â
âYeah, it feels good,â he parrots, fighting back the raging fire deep in his gutâthe one that threatens to engulf you, too. Because heâs not done yet. Not nearly.Â
His hips pound into you, cock dragging along your walls at a punishing pace. The beast hums and he smirks as you try to form sentences.
âS-Soâ Agh! Iâ Mmmph!â
He nods like he understands every unspoken word. âNow you see why I had to get you all ready? Hm? You were so cute, thinkinâ you could just take it. So brave, cominâ here, all sweet on the freak.â
âEddie!âÂ
You have the audacity to paw at him, to pull, to try to meet his strokes in crumbling desperation. He drops your legs, shoving your hands above your head as he presses down onto you, pinning you against the picnic table, the structure rocking with the movement.Â
His long, rhythmic thrusts dwindle to swift, sharp ruts, the action bordering on animalistic.
âBut now look at you. All mine,â he huffs, dark eyes roving over your trembling body. Then his gaze travels lower, where his cock burrows into youâwhere you take him so easily, opening up like he said the magic word a thousand times over. âPractically made fâme, fuckinâ look at you. Stretched full and so damn pretty, too. We fit real nice together, donât we, baby?â
You whine and he maneuvers your wrists into one hand, helping to prop your head up with the other.Â
âLook at you,â he repeats, firmer this time. âSo wet, youâre drowninâ me, sweetheart.â
Something splinters on your face and he follows your eyeline, notices it fixed on the milky ring that circles the base of his thick shaft and the matted down curls you couldnât stop admiring earlier.Â
âOh,â he drawls, a wicked, wolfish grin stretching his lips. âYou like that?â
You nod and he practically preens. You are just like him.Â
âLike seeinâ me covered in you? Marked?âÂ
Your response is nothing more than a brittle whimper and he can feel you clench around him, already so close to falling into the afterâthe space in time where you will know what it feels like to be thoroughly picked apart, to be undone. By him.
âYouâre markinâ me,â he growls into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your jugular, trying not to bite. âThink itâs only fair you let me do the same, hm? What do you say, pretty girl? Gonna let me really fill you up?â
âP-Please! Oh, God, please, Eddieââ
His thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight, practiced circles on the swollen bud and you freeze, arching into his chest, searing your sweat-soaked flesh to his. Your cries fall silent as you gape, convulsing at every third swipe he makes.Â
Your walls trap him in a vice grip, fluttering and milking rope after rope of cum from his flexing length. He shivers uncontrollably, feeling his warm spend flood the tight space until it leaks, shoveled out by his now-pitiful ruts.Â
He tries to prolong it. Tries to steal the moment from time itself and live in it; play house with the present. But then his body finally gives out, muscles slackening, and your arms are there to catch him, welcoming the iron hold he traps you in.
Raspy whispers are muttered into your neck, tattooed by the heat of his breath; quiet sentiments heâs not certain you hear over the noise of two settling souls. And maybe itâs better that way. Maybe theyâre things to hoardâat least for a little while longer.Â
He trails kisses up your jaw, blindly searching for your lips, only to find them unresponsive. Worry fills him immediately.Â
Maybe he was too rough. He did notice the half-moon marks scattered along your thighs.Â
Maybe he was too mouthy. He can never think straight when it comes to you.
Maybe he was just too muchâÂ
âEddie,â you call gently, pulling him from somewhere deep and dark.
He meets your eyes, surprised to see them wide and wanting, shining with that honest gleam that makes him feel so exposed.
âYou are mine.â
So you heard.
He wasnât cautious and he said the words meant for an empty bedroom out loud. And you heard.Â
Your fingers thread through his curls, dragging his wavering attention back to you.
âYou are mine,â you repeat, softer but no less confident.Â
He wonders how something so delicate could detonate something so sturdy. Years and years of denial, blown to smithereens in three words.Â
And you make it look easy.Â
Make it sound plausible.Â
That he could be yours, just as much as you want to be his.
He nods, hanging onto you like a lifesaver as debris from the wreckage floats by. He swallows and his voice barely forms around the letters, breaking under the weight of it all.
âO-Okay.â
And he surrenders.Â
He believes you.Â
A/N: For the love of god, please be sweet and talk to me about this fic. I think I looked at it for too long and now I donât know if itâs maybe the worst thing Iâve ever written or if Iâm just too close to it rn, Iâm being so for real.
You had never thought of yourself as a completely shy person but that changed when you started dating Eddie.
Eddie Munson totally and utterly adored you, his friends teased, and their faces twinge with faux disgust, and your face burned with the heat of embarrassment with his attachment towards you.
He always did a lot when it came to you, especially in public, doting on you an extensive amount. His hands were always greedily pawing at your waist or hips, arms wrapping around your torso or neck. He loves to litter your face and neck in wet kisses, loves the way you get warm and whine and complain all the while trying to hide the growing grin gracing your -what he says- perfect lips.
When his eyes are on you his eyes are full of adoration and his dark eyes become darker when his pupils dilate, "How are you so damn beautiful? Huh?" Eddie asks to which you tell him to shut up and shove him away while hiding your face. You're smiling though, he can tell. The corner of your eyes crinkle and your smile lines are prominent.
Eddie loves you.
And even though you often shy away from his affections he knew you loved him just as much.
Eddie is always touching you, he couldn't help it. The moment he became your boyfriend he made sure his hands never left you.
Finger laced into the belt loop of your jeans pulling your back to his chest so that he can rest his hands against the groove of your waist -maybe even slide them underneath the soft fabric of his your shirt so he can feel the heat of your skin against his palms- while waiting in line at the grocery store; he rest his chin on the top of your head letting the smell of your shampoo make his head spin with thoughts of only you. "You smell nice."
Man-spreading so that his knee would press into yours while the two of you hang out with friends, the fabric of his ripped jeans rubs your knee while he wraps his arm around your shoulders pulling your body closer to him because "You're too far away."
Very rarely do you allow him to shower with you because when he does he's too busy pressing himself against you, arms wrapped tightly around your torso or hands greedily pawing at your hips, instead of washing his messy mane of hair like you told him to. No matter the amount you scolded him in how often he got distracted or how he distracted you it went in one ear and out the other. "You shouldn't look so pretty then- It makes it hard to focus."
Cooking dinner with him home was a chore. He drapes himself along your back letting his body weight drop onto you, forcing you to hold him up while you mix something in a pot. When you grumble in annoyance he just smiles against your neck pursing his lips every once in a while to place loving kisses against your warm skin, enjoying the sound of your voice, in which he deemed it angelic, even as you chastise him again.
He just can't help how much he absolutely adores you, sometimes still in disbelief that someone as beautiful as you, inside and out, wanted to be his girlfriend and he knows that, even though you complain and nag at him, you love that he can't help wanting to touch you. He catches the small grin that etches itself across your face when he holds you in the shower or when you cook and he notices the way you hook your pinkie finger into the belt loop of his jeans as he snakes his arms around you in stores or when your hanging out with friends.
So, he'll always make sure his hands are on you, because he loves the way you grumble all without telling him to stop.
Summary: âHarry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesnât want it to go back to the way it wasâŚâ
Wc: 13k
Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N
Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while⌠ykđ¤
A/N: Iâm terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say Iâm sorry𼲠and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xxđđ
General Masterlist
HEADER = POV change
Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.
At least, heâs always thought it is.
Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.
Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.
When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.
He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, thoughâhe had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.
Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.
Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.
He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.
And she had been absolutely right.
Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.
They had become friendsâif that's what you could call itâover the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.
No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on itâespecially Harryâthey never crossed that one line.
Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.
The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...
He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.
"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.
"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.
"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.
"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.
"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.
Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."
The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.
"When?"
Y/N locked eyes with her boss. âWhat?â
"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"
"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.
"Come in."
Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.
Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offerâhe'd rather spend his nights with his secretaryâbefore Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.
He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.
Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own highâHarry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.
The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.
By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.
He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.
Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.
He just doesn't know how to behave instead.
"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. IÂ know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.
"What?"
"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a lineââ
"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Butâ if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.
Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.
"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.
"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."
At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.
"So... we're good?"
"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.
"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.
"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.
That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.
The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwellâa long-time business partner of Harry'sâ asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.
And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendousâ something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brainsâhe couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.
Harry loudly shuts the door.
The guyâwhose name he can't really remember at the momentâflinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.
"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.
"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.
"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask youâ do you want to move up lunch today?"
The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.
"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.
"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.
Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.
"A Thousand Zombies
By Jason Longwell."
Right, Jason, that was his name.
"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.
"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.
"Wâ what?" He stumbles.
"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.
"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.
"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.
"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.
"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.
"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."
"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.
"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?
Y/N clears her throat. "Anywayâ why'd the meeting end early?"
"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.
"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"
"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.
"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.
So much for going back to normal.
Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something. But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.
Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.
It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twistedâ it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.
He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.
"It's just a dateâ"
"Your second date!"
Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her faceâaccompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about somethingâdisappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.
"Haâ Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.
"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.
"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."
"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.
Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.
A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.
He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.
"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behaviorâwhile quite endearingâis excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.
"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.
"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."
Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.
"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.
"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.
"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.
He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.
"Harry, I have an appointment tonightâ"
"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.
Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bitâseven minutes to be exactâthat worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.
"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."
Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.
And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.
He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.
"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.
"You said we were good."
His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.
"Wâ we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.
"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understandâ" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.
"Marco, why are youâ" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.
"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.
"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you evenâ" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."
The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears
"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.
Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.
"What's going on?"
Y/N shakes her head. "Nâ nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."
Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.
"Y/Nâ"
"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."
Wait, no.
That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shitâ what has he done?
Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.
His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.
At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.
Everything is going wrong.
Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.
First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enoughâand she really thinks it wasâthis sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.
It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.
But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.
Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.
But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.
'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.
It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've gotâin Y/N's opinionâbut they agreed.
Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marcoâthe guy who handled all the legal documentsâto make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.
And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.
If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault.Â
She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.
Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.
She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.
So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.
She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.
When the call goes to voicemailâfor the third timeâY/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.
"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.
"I brought foodâ" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"
Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.
"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?
A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.
"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.
Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.
"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.
"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."
She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."
"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.
"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.
"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruinedâ" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"
"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.
"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.
"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.
"Y/N..." he warns.
"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.
Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.
"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.
"I really have to go."
Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."
Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."
"Yes I do." Harry argues.
"You really don't."
"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.
"No!" She is quick to protest.
"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.
"I justâ I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.
"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."
She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."
Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"
"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."
"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.
"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.
"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.
It's not your fault.
That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?
"You revise every contract, don't you?"
Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"
"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.
"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.
For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.
The initial shock at the realizationâthis puzzle piece that suddenly clickedâmade Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.
"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.
"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.
"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.
"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.
"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.
"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.
Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.
Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.
The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.
"I think I'm jealous."
Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.
"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.
"Of whoever gets to take care of you."
Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.
"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.
"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.
And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.
Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.
With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.
Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.
But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.
Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.
"We've arrived."
Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.
Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.
"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.
"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.
"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."
Harry nods.
"I can't be at your apartment, I have toâ" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.
"You have to... what?"
"To... I have toâ"
"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."
With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.
Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.
"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."
His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.
Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.
It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.
"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.
"Nothing. Just admiring you."
At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.
Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.
Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.
It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.
Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.
"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.
She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?
Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.
"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.
"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.
"I only have white wine."
Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."
Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.
"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.
"To the unexpected."
They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.
"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."
There it is.
She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.
"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.
"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.
"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"I know, but I could haveâ"
Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.
"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."
Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."
The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."
Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.
"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.
"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."
Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."
"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."
He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.
His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.
"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.
"I called you sir."
Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."
Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Harâ"
His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.
Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.
"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.
"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.
"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.
"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.
"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.
"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.
"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."
Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harryâs words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harryâs lips latch onto her clit.
Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.
Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.
Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.
Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.
Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.
"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.
She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."
Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."
"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.
"On your stomach."
Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.
"Hands behind your back."
Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.
Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.
"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.
Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.
But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.
"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.
"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her assâ and his nails bite into her skinâshe loses control.
Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.
"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.
Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.
"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."
Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.
"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.
He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few secondsâas if he is catching his breathâthen slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.
Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more.Â
"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.
"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.
"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.
"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."
Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.
"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"
Oh my god.
"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.
"Fâfuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches forâwhat Y/N assumes to beâhis phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.
His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.
She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.
Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.
"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.
"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.
"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.
Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.
The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.
The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.
When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.
"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.
"Promise?"
Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.
summary:Â both your parents had set up an arranged marriage. you both simply tolerated it for the most part, as it really was in the best interest for your respective families. over the year, you started to really develop feelings for each other - especially in wanting to expand the family name.
pairing:Â mattheo x fem! reader
warnings:Â jealousy, smut like literal major baby making so there is unprotected p in v and creampie, so breeding!kink, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, choking, gagging, slight bondage, almost public but not really?, cock warming... maybe slight daddy/mommy stuff naturally?. i think that's pretty much it fluff at the end. he is rough but talks you through it, praise!kink.
note:Â this is my first time ever writing smut...omg i almost didnt finish writing this LOL i had to stop midway then I had the post clarity and that shameful feeling HAHAHAH
word count: 7.5k
(slightly not really proofread...again)
reblogs & comments are appreciated! i hope you have fun!! tell me what you think!
Both your parents had set up an arranged marriage for after you and Mattheo graduated from Hogwarts. You've been married for over a year now, living in a manor that housed both families. There was definitely some tension occurring, recently youâve both started to further develop feelings. At first you tolerated your union as his family wanted to continue with a strong and pure bloodline, and your family simply wanted protection.Â
You were sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair when Mattheo walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel around his waist. He gave you a smug look, heading to the walk-in closet, dropping the towel and slipping on his underwear, his back turned to you. You wouldnât help but press your thighs together at the sight of him, you quickly return to brush the knots from your hair.Â
From the vanity mirror you look at his chiseled back muscles. He still looks as good as the first day you met him. You had the luck on your side for that, at least the partner in your arranged marriage was good lookingâŚyet you craved having a chance to fall in love organically. You could count on a single hand how many times you and Mattheo had been physically intimate.Â
Mattheo put on a shirt and grey sweats, shit, before walking out of the closet to approach you. âIâve heard from your parents that youâve been talking to another guy at work?â he says calmly but firmly.
You thought about it for a second, âCharlie? Yeah, heâs in training.â After graduating Hogwarts you were able to quickly land a job with the M.O.M. while mattheo stuck with DADâŚaka the familyâŚbusiness. I moved on to rub body oil on my legs and arms, not looking at him.
He tried to not pay any attention to you as you moved your hands in tight little circles. Mattheo would love a good massage right about now too, he took a step back and sat on his side of the massive bed, âand what do you talk to him about?â
âI mean,â you scoff at him, âMattheo, itâs just training protocols. Showing him around the work area, how to do things, where things are at. Not much else to it than that.â
He clenched his jaw, he couldnât deny that he had an attraction to you, but he always told himself to ignore it, âthatâs it?â
âYes, thatâs it.â You stood up from the vanity, clicking closed the boy oil. Setting it down where it belonged, you enjoyed having a tidy space. You sat on your side of the bed.
He looked at the way your hips swayed in your night dress as you walked to your side. You turned your head to look back at him. He looked so tense, âI hope youâre not lying.â
You stayed quiet, of course he wouldnât trust me. You had never given him a reason not to even before the start of this arrangement, so it annoyed you when he doubted you. That might just be his nature though. You slid into the satin bed sheets, they were nice and cool to the touch, much needed after a long day at work. You turned your bedside lamp off, encasing your both in darkness. Mattheo laid beside you, he usually took to his side, but tonight he was feeling a bit off so he wanted to be close to you. Not making physical contact but enough to where you notice his warm body.Â
You kept your eyes open, your back turned away from him, what was he doing? He never slept so close to you. After a long period of silence you spoke up, feeling brave because it was dark. You wouldnât see his expression and he wouldnât see yours, âare you jealous, Mattheo?â
He sneered at the question as if the idea of him being jealous was a crime, âof course not. Iâm just concerned that youâre doing something you shouldnât be.â There was a small hint of jealousy in his voice, he hated to admit it but he didnât like the idea of you with another man.
âI might have not had a choice, but I donât plan to step out of this marriage. You have nothing to worry about.â You tried to scoot closer to the edge of the bed, trying to build distance from him, âI wish I could say the same with youâŚand your assistant.â
His face looked offended, but you couldn't see it, you could hear it in his voice, trying to keep it cool. âMy assistant? Youâre the only one that is allowed in my office.â
âThatâs not what Draco told me.â Mattheo was able to recruit Draco back into the business. Draco was nice to you, he was like a brother figure. Your families were close. They would have arranged a marriage with him instead, but his mother decided against it. She believed in falling in love, and making the choice Dracoâs. âHe warned me to never let you go on any work trips or work late over time. He doesnât trust your assistant. Draco told me she wants to take any opportunity to have you alone, where no one can see you two.â
Mattheo gritted his teeth as he listened to you. He didnât appreciate that Draco was telling you things about him, in fact was pissed. He sat up in bed, turning on his bedside lamp. He looked at you with furious eyes, âDraco has no idea what heâs talking about. My work assistant wouldnât do such things!â That was a lie and he knew it.
âI trust Draco. Donât you speak ill of him. Why are you defending her?! YOUâRE the one who should be telling me that you wouldnât do such things with her!â You couldnât help your own jealousy come forth, you nearly fell off the bed.
He grabbed your arm to pull you back on the bed. Mattheo spoke with a calm and firm voice, âyou have my word that I have never, nor will i ever, do such things with my assistant. No other woman can have me the way you do.â He admitted with a smirk, grabbing your chin and lifting it up so your gaze would be on him only.
You didnât thank him for catching you, but you were glad he did. You lost your concentration for a split second at his admission. You regained yourself, âfire her then.â
He laughed at your demand, âfire my assistant?â he could use this to his advantage to make you feel jealous, test the water on how you felt about him, âWhy would i do that? She helps me.â
You crossed your arms, âyou have three choices.â You count up with your fingers, âYou either fire her. Let me choose an assistant for yourself. Or you hire me to be your new assistantâ
He raised his eyebrow at your offers, but still kept his cool, He didnât want to show how turned on he was by how demanding you were being at the moment, âyouâre giving me an ultimatumâŚâ he smirked slightly, âand you think iâll just do as you demand?â
âYou better mattheo. If you donât want to take it for purely my sake, do it for your bloodline.â I rolled my eyes. Fighting back the blush, thinking one day I will carry his child.Â
He groaned at the mention of the family purity, âis that right?â he said in a frustrated tone, âyou know as well as I do that this marriage is a duty to our families.â He sighed. âVery well, iâll take you up on your offer, be my new assistant.â
Your eyes grew wide. You didnât actually expect him to take that choice, far as you could tell he enjoyed being away from you even if it was at work. âIâll call my work in the morning. See not so bad that I was training Charlie, he can take my place.â You tried to read his face before laying back down, this time closer to the center of the bed.
He turned off his lamp again, âlet it be done. But remember, as my new assistant, I won't go easy on you.â he teased, there was a small smile on his face he couldnât straighten out.
You reached out to pinch his ear, âdonât let it get to your head. Iâm still your equal as your wife. Donât forget about that.â You turned your back to him once again, closing your eyes.
His smile only got bigger at how fierce you were being, he must have struck a chord. He has never seen you so jealous. âYes, yes⌠of course my love.â he mocked in a quiet voice as he inched closer to you, laying by your side. Not making much contact, but enough to tease you. You rolled your eyes, he only ever used pet names to tease you. You wanted them to mean something. You remembered the way he came out of the shower, you thought about his wide shoulders, his collar bones.. You scoot your ass closer to his hips. Two can play at that game.
Mattheoâs breath hitched, âwhat do you think youâre doing?â
âIâm trying to sleep. Goodnight.â
He was so close to snapping at you, but he didnât want to take the bait, ânight.â
.ăťă.ăťăâăť.ăťâŤăťăăťă.
The next morning you woke up early to call and explain why you were leaving the ministry. You had to come up with a solid unsuspecting excuse. Mattheoâs family would not be too happy with it, being their spy and all, but if it meant my marriage could be successful, so be it.Â
You were at the dining room table, it was empty. Everyone in the manor wouldnât wake up for another half hour or so. Yet there was Mattheo in his black suit, âmorning.â He found it amusing you were already ready for the day. He looked you up and down, a wave of lust surged to him. He thought you looked quite lovely, he almost said it outloud but resisted the urge.
âGood morning Mr. Riddle, sir.â You stood up, pulling his seat out. You rolled my eyes, but smiled sweetly at him, âIâm ready for my first day.â
He chuckled softly at how polite you were being, âare you now? And what are you looking forward to most today?â
One of the maids came by to set mattheoâs breakfast down. I smiled at her and waited until she left before continuing, âSir, I'm looking forward to you firing your current assistant in front of me.â You batted your lashes at him. Knowing you were going to meet her for the first and last time, you took extra care in how you looked.
âYou really want to witness her losing her job, don't you?â He bit the corner of his mouth.Â
âShe should have watched the way she was acting with you, if she really cared about her job security.â Our blended family began to slowly trickle into the dining room, you laid a hand on Mattheoâs shoulder. you kissed his head. We made the appearance of a blissful marriage around them, not wanting a rift to occur between the families, âI'll meet you at the car in 15, darling.â
He tried his hardest to maintain his facade as you kissed him and left. He again watched you walk away, your perfect figure made his body tingle with desire once more. He excused himself from the table.
.ăťă.ăťăâăť.ăťâŤăťăăťă.
Mattheo turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt first to get out so he could open your door, âare you ready, my dear?â he questioned though he knew the answer. He didnât think there would be any hesitation from you in regards to what was about to happen.
You nodded, straightening out your skirt. You followed him into the building. You felt uneasy to be around so many people who have caused harm and were plotting to do more. At least your family was safe, as long as you were with the Riddles.
Mattheo noticed and held your hand as he led you to his office, âNothing is going to happen to you.â He offered you a chair in front of his desk before going around to sit at the main chair.
You couldnât help but smile, you let it drop just as quick too. Itâs all just part of the agreement. If something were to happen to you, poof~ there goes the bloodline.Â
âGood morning, Mattheo.â A woman with a sickly sweet, sickly high pitched voice said with the entry.
He gave her a brief glimpse, he could already tell he would get a headache. His assistant was wearing a tight fitting top with a ridiculously short skirt, she was pouring him a cup of coffee.
You watched as his eyes followed her, gripping tightly at the chairâs arm. Draco was right, no one in their right mind would think of dressing that skimpy for work, if they were truly just there to get shit done. âItâs Mr. Riddle to you.â You said taking your left hand to your chin, making sure your wedding ring was up and front ready to gawk at.
Mattheo looked at you, he loved the way your demeanor was changing. He could see the jealous and possessive energy oozing off of you. He found it quite intriguing, a part of him wanted to test your limits. He reached out to accept the cup of coffee from his assistant, âis it just like how I like it?â âYes Mr. Riddle. Just how you like itâ she said, leaning over to him, finishing the stir. This made her skirt even tighter and her breasts were there to peep into.
You stared at Mattheo hard, expecting him to say something to the woman. He felt you, he had to admit he also was quite displeased at how his assistant behaved around him, but it was all fun and game.
âNow, what do I have scheduled for today?â
Before the woman could answer you interrupted. âI know one thing you have scheduled, Mattheo.â You tapped your foot. You needed her gone. Now. Draco - youâll have to thank him at the next dinner party. You should have done something sooner. You canât believe your husband was letting this slut work around him, dictating what he did by the hour.
Mattheoâs eyebrows slightly rose in surprise, he was a bit caught off guard at your interruption. He was so amused by how impatient you had become.
âWell we do have a meeting to go with the Boyles in an hour, can this wait?â His assistant said puffing her chest out to make it appear larger. You hated that she said we instead of you. That bitch. You got up from your seat, going around the desk to stand behind Mattheo. You snaked both arms over his shoulders and down his chest.
He held back a groan as your soft touch distracted his thoughts for a moment. He loved that you were making it clear he was yours. He snapped out of it when he remembered he was still in the presence of his assistant so he looked back at her, all the mock gone from his voice, âiâll be quick⌠Youâre fired. You're no longer needed here.â
The blood drained out of the womanâs face, her shoulderâs immediately fell. You gave her a fake condolences look.
âW-wuh why? What did I do? Is this because of the office party last week? It wonât happen again, it was wildly inappropriate.â She composed herself, taking a stab at you with the last portion. You brought your hands to Mattheoâs shoulders and squeezed hard slowly, as to not bring attention to the action.
His eyes darkened, âYou knew the rules. My father specifically told you when you started not to try anything with me. But even after making it clear, you still chose to try and make a move on me at my own party.â His voice was deep, hiding the amusement that lay underneath.
Even though you hated the confession, you couldn't help but appreciate Mattheoâs honesty. You lessened the grip on his shoulders, rubbing out the part you dug in your nails as a way of saying thank you.
âI was so drunk Mr. Riddle. Iâm terribly sorry. I really need this job. I thought you were needing something elseâŚI thought you werenât getting pleased right. Mattheo, I'm sorry donât fire me.â You wanted to scream as she pleaded. You can hear the poison off the back of her tongue. Seriously, that Bitch! With that comment you returned to dig your nails into Mattheo.
âMy needs are none of your concern.â Mattheo spat at her, but she was right. He has been craving a certain kind of touch for too long now. He did enjoy a good begging, no matter who it came from, but he wasnât going to go against his marriage.Â
You felt him hold your left hand, flipping it so that both the back of your hands were facing the woman, he was showing your matching rings, âI am perfectly happy in my marriage.â You couldnât help but wonder if he meant that, or if it was just for show. I was happy too wasnât I?
The woman looked at your hands that were pressed together, despite her disappointment, she knew there was nothing she could do so she bit her tongue and nodded in response. You watched her every movement, as she collected herself. She still didnât bother pulling down her skirt or buttoning up her shirt, it was as if she still wanted Mattheo to see what he would have missed out on. To leave this image with him as a parting gift.
He simply stared at the clock, âyou have three minutes to collect your things before security arrives to escort you out of the building. Do not leave anything behind because it will be incinerated. My father will deal with your severanceâŚif he gives you anything. Especially after I tell him why I had to fire you.â
She turned to the door, stole a glance back at Mattheo, and left the room. You stayed put behind Mattheo. You didnât want him to see your face just yet. You needed to cool down.Â
He groaned loudly and leaned back into your touch, rubbing a hand over his face, âI donât even know why I kept her for so long. She wasnât even that good at her jobâ he smirked, still wanting to test you.
âDonât play stupid, I know I won't. Clearly there was something going on!â You scoffed, âto think you were getting so mad at Draco for warning me!â
He took your hand pulling you over to sit on his lap, âthere was absolutely nothing going on. I didnât ask her for anything outside of work related things. I would have never let her touch me, she thought I was unhappy in our marriage.â
âWhy would she think you were unhappy hmm? Why was she assuming, letâs be honest, she assumed correctly that you werenât getting needs met. How were you acting with her, tell me now.â You couldnât help but feel like a little girl on his lap, a little girl who was throwing a tantrum for not wanting to share a beloved stuffed animal.
He rested his chin on your shoulder as he spoke into your ear, âit was probably because I was often short tempered with her, but I promise it was mostly due to her not doing her job correctlyâ His lips brushed against your neck.
Yeah that kind of sounds like Mattheo, he liked things done a certain way, and he didnât like when it veered off the track. But then again, even in school he was a massive flirt. So how much was the tension between the two due to his short temper and how much was his charm?Â
âSheâs not worth even a moment of your thought.â He mumbled against your ear, sending a shiver down to your core. He placed a gentle kiss right under your jaw. His hands ran down your thighs, squeezing ever so lightly.
You let out a faint moan, âMattheoâŚâ You couldnât remember exactly the last time you were like this, it was very rare. While in school, you remembered how everyone wanted him. He allowed them to play games with him, he loved to toy with them too. But the girls knew, they ultimately knew they had no chance ending up with him. Our arranged marriage wasnât a secret.Â
He continued to press kisses over your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking gently on your skin, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch. He grabbed one leg and forced you to face him, your knees now on either side of his thighs, straddling him. He then wordlessly cast a spell on the door with his wand, so it wouldnât be opened. He didnât even look at the door, he didnât need to carefully aim. You could feel your core getting embarrassingly wet at the simple gesture. âMattheo, we shouldnât..â you panted.Â
âMaybe youâre rightâŚâ He responded, though he didnât stop his ministrations. He captured your lips with his, kissing you hungrily as he pressed his body against yours. His hands exploring over your body.Â
You let your hands go up the back of his neck, tugging at his dark curls. They were so soft and velvety. Fuck. He felt so good, you could feel him press against yourself. You forgot how big he was, you wanted to just dry hump him to feel satisfied with yourself right now. You couldnât bring yourself to it, you tried to speak between his hasty sloppy kisses, âMattyâŚyou do have a meeting soon.â
He loosened his grip ever so slightly, âthen do your job. and cancel. It.â He said through gritted teeth, planting kisses on your collarbone. Without looking he pulled his phone closer to you. He hoped you would make the right choice.
You nodded shifting in his lap, earning a groan. What a start to my new job. âWhatâs the extension to Boyleâs assistant?â You grabbed the receiver trying to hold it and keep your breath steady. Mattheo whispered it against your ear lobe. You grew impatient once more as you continued to hear it ring on the other end. Câmon answer.
âHello, how may I direct your call?â
âHi umâ you looked down at Mattheoâs sweet brown eyes that were following you, pleading with yours, you tried to get him to pause with his lip exploration for a second, âIâm Mr. Riddlesâ new assistant - we..I..we..sorry he needs toâ damn ..girl I NEED TO! Mattheo muffled his own giggle with his hand. Enjoying how you kept messing up, obviously your mind has started to get clouded.
âY/N/N?â The woman on the other receiver said, your old nickname from school.
âOh my god, Daphne? Hey! I didnât recognize your voiceâŚ!â
He watched you with slight amusement.
Daphne started to ramble on about how she started at this job, on any other day you would have totally loved to entertain her and catch up. You got along very well, but you cut her off as she explained, âum Daphne, we should go out for some coffee soon, we can talk then. Itâs just that Mattheo needs the meeting with the Boyles rescheduled.â
âOh..okay..is everything alright? It was an important meetingâŚâ
Not as important as this.
âEverything is fine, is there a different time we can meet? Push it back a couple more hours?â You looked over at his schedule that his previous slut of an assistant left. You both ended up agreeing on a later time, you quickly thanked her and said goodbye. You clicked the receiver down, putting the do not disturb on for good measure too.Â
âWhere were we?â you shyly said, looking at his eyes that were gleaming with desire and excitement.
âI was thinking we could restart from here..â He readjusted you back on his lap, slipping a hand under your skirt skimming along the line of your panty.Â
You missed his touch, his hands could sometimes be so cold to the touch that they felt like they left a burning trail. He pulled back slightly, picking you up by your ass to set you down on the edge of his desk. He used his hands to open your legs wider, ever so gently âIs it okay if I touch you right here?â you were already nodding before he finished, âUse your words with me. Do you want me to touch you here?â He padded his thumb against your core, still over your panties. âYes Mattheo, please please touch me.âÂ
âThatâs my girl.â He smiled proudly, he could already feel the want and need pouring off of you, and it was driving him equally if not more insane. He pushed your skirt up higher, revealing yourself to him. Ran his hands over your hips massaging them as you had done the night before. They felt so soft and squishy.Â
You couldnât help but throw your head back, leaning on your forearms. You moved your head forward to look at him when he retracted his hands. He had sat back down in his chair, admiring how he had you. You felt like you were under a microscope, to be so exposed. You tried pressing your legs back together.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, âdonât hide. Let me see you.â he pushed your knees back apart to regain his view. He pulled your dominant hand forward, he also leaned forward so you could touch the side of his face, âshow me how you please yourself.â He watched with a hungry expression, clearly enjoying how you blushed and got flustered. Mattheo gently rubbed his thumb along your burning cheek softly, then traced it against your bottom lip asking for entry, âthereâs no need to be shy with me, my love.â His voice was sweet and soft, âI promise I wont judge you, you are my wife after all.â
You let his thumb go into your mouth. You sucked on it, not once breaking eye contact, âshit y/n, thatâs my pretty princess.â with his free hand he slid underneath his own pants and readjusted himself into a comfortable position. He took your dominant hand once more, putting it over your core. âShow me.â
You hesitated again to make a move on yourself, Mattheo pulled his thumb out of your mouth so he could wrap his hand around your neck, âdonât make me say it again.â
Oh my shit. âSorryâ you managed to choke out through his alternating grip intensity. You went over your panties to play yourself. You were so wet. Your hand was shaking with nerves as you rubbed over your entrance, letting your slick arousal coat them before moving them between your folds and finally at your clit. Mattheo was looking down at your movements. The hand that wasnât around your neck, he helped by holding your panties out of the way, âso pretty, youâre glistening.â
âYou..you have this effect on me Matty. This is all for you.â
âGood, youâre mine.â He choked me hard then lessened it once more, âand i'm yours.â He kissed you again before watching you play with yourself. You kept rubbing your clit for him. He let go of your neck, you felt your blood rush back to your brain. Mattheo unbuttoned your top, unclasped your bra and started to play with your breasts. Alternating and teasing each nipple. âSo perfect.â He grinned against your nipples, biting it and blowing cool air on it. You yelped and he covered your mouth, âshhh.â He unlatched himself from you and sat down. He rubbed himself through his pants before undoing his belt. His eyes never left your wet core, it was purring for him.
He let out a small sign, laughing. You felt insecure for a split second, âwhat?â
âNothing..youâre just doing..it wrongâ
âHuh?â
âHere let me help you, princess. Iâll show you how I'd do it.â he moved his chair closer, moving your hand away. He just rubbed the middle and ring finger along your heat, it grant him a moan, ây/n, as much as I love hearing you like this. Youâve gotta stay quiet.â
You bit your lip hard, âIâll try Mattheo but..â
âNone of that, you must do as I say.â he gently inserted one finger inside you, curling it up against your wall. You moaned louder. He whipped his single digit out, âyouâre so needy, even with a single finger? Sweet Salazar, what am I going to do with you? Youâre hopeless.â He let out a haughty laugh.
âBaby..please.â You watched him stand up, taking his belt off the loops of his pants. You thought he was finally doing to give you what you wanted most, but instead he just wrapped it around your head, tightening it around your mouth.
âIâm really sorry I have to do this baby girl, but you just wont keep your mouth shut.â He wasnât a bit sorry, you can tell by how he looked down at the sight of you. He was actually quite pleased. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, it was a sharp contrast to the leather belt wrapped around your mouth. Seeing you like this was beyond his wildest dreams, gagged before him. Mattheo sat back down continuing where he left off, but this time he inserted two of his fingers. He didnât allow you to adjust to them. The belt indeed muted your cry. It hurt, you didnât dare use two of your own fingers on yourself, and here he is with hands that were twice the size of yours.
âYouâre doing so well for me, princess.â He whispered, inserting his fingers all the way and pulling them out the same. You felt a tear running down your cheek. He began to rhythmically curve them when they were inside you. The pain was quickly subdued with pleasure. You laid back on the desk arching yourself so he could go in deeper, âso now you want more huh?â
Still fingering you, he went back to suck on your nipples. He towered over you, you shook your head, âwhat is it?â He looked at your concern. You looked at his fully clothed body, wrapping your hand around his tie. You were naked, apart from your skirt, but it was so bunched up at your hips it didnât matter. You couldnât be the only one bare right now, you want to see his body, âhow are you still bossy with your mouth shut?â He laughed, pushing your hand away, ânews flash, Iâm your boss now. You donât tell me what to do.â
Despite his words, he did take off his tie first, wrapping it around your wrists, goddammit, before taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt only half way. You could look at his chest that was peaking. You felt yourself drool against the belt.
He sat back down and continued to finger you relentlessly. He pulled out and tasted his fingers, âtoo bad youâre gagged. I would have liked you to taste yourself. At least I have your cunt to myself.â he welcomed himself into you again. He slowly ran his warm tongue up your slit, stopping at your clit. He did this a couple of times. It was so agonizing. Your eyes were bobbing around unable to stay open. With your hands tied you were still able to hold his head down to stop and focus on your clit.
Mattheo would have swatted your hands away, but he needed your touch as well. He wanted to make you feel amazing, he wanted you to forget your name and only respond to âwifeâ. But god did he also just want to already bury his cock deep inside you to feel some relief. He needed to be patient.
Your breath began to get shallow and unsteady. He groaned against your clit, your pussy was repeatedly clenching around his fingers, indicating you were close.Â
His lips curled devilishly, he was thinking about denying your orgasm. He only wanted you to cum on his cock and nothing else. The only reason why he didnât is because he loved the taste of you too much to stop, âyou can do it, doll. Come for me let me taste it.â
You began to shake and grab a fist full of curls as you came. He gradually slowed down, helping you ride out your orgasm. You felt so relaxed.
He looked so full of himself. He pulled his face away from you, his lips were red and swollen from his own work. Mattheo held up his right hand, the one that was fingering you, you could see the wetness on it.Â
With his clean hand he pulled down his pants and underwear in one quick motion. Rubbing his cock with his right hand, letting your cum wet it. He used two fingers to beacon you over, before he realized you couldnât move. He left your wrists still tied, and pulled you forward onto your feet. âLook me in the eye, princess. Do you promise to be quiet now?âÂ
You could only nod. That was enough for him, because he had other plans to occupy your mouth. He removed the belt around your mouth. With your still bonded hands you wiped the spit around your mouth, âGod, damn.â
He laughed, âI don't remember being called God before, but you can't continue with its use.âÂ
Before you could reply with something snarky, he pushed you down onto your knees and had the tip of his cock at your lips, âSorry, I canât actually trust you to be quiet, so open wide and take it.â
You obeyed. Though you could only take nearly half of it before it started your gag reflex, âi love that sound baby,â he signed, âis it too big for you?â He didnât really care for an answer, of course it was. It would have just inflated his ego more.Â
âCâmon and let me in more.â slobber just kept going down your chin and onto your breasts. He bucked his hips at the sight, âyouâre so fucking pretty.â Mattheo gathered your hair into two bunches, using them as handlebars. He was straight throat fucking you at this point. You began to feel faint, and he saw it too, so he pulled his cock all the way out allowing you to breathe. âYouâre doing so good.â He kissed you on the lips, using his shirt to help clean your chin.
You were just about to say thank you when he reinserted his cock into your mouth. You pull your head back and he actually allows you. With your bound hands you stroke the portion of his cock that you couldnât take in, pumping it. Admiring the veins running down it . You wrap your lips around his lip, swirling your tongue around. His precum was like a classified drug to you, it was so delicious. You kept at your pace wanting more to come out, âyouâre obsessedâ Mattheo pointed out thrilled.
âTalk to me, loveâ He touched your ear lobe.Â
You spoke to him with his cock still in your mouth, so it slurred your speech, âyob ase sâ gob.âÂ
He chuckled but groaned with the vibrations your voice made, âwhat was that?â
You stopped sucking, âyou taste so good!â you smile at him. This brought him to his knees, he removed the tie around your wrists rubbing them for you. Both your eyes are on the same level now.
âYou really are beautiful.â He said causing you to blush. âDonât turn all shy on me now, princess.â he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear in a soft gesture. âWeâre far from being shy with each other right now.â Mattheo kissed you.
âI just like hearing you say that, my king.â
With a voice filled with affectionate warmth, âwhen you call me that it makes me want to keep you by my side forever, my precious princess.â He began to kiss you harder, âI want to keep you forever.â He pushed his soft side out of the way and pushed you onto your knees in front of him You arched your back so your ass was in the air, âthis is what you fucking teased me with last night.â
You laughed, âyeah I know.â
âSo you wanted this bad huh?â
âYess Matty I want you.âÂ
He admired the scene in front of him. He kneaded your ass, biting it and making your cry again. âDonât make me use the belt again.â
âIâm sorry, Iâll be quiet now.â You cupped your own mouth. You saw his jacket on the floor and took it under your head.
âYouâre so obedient, it's very good. How havenât I bred you sooner? I want you pregnant with the next Riddle heir.â He ran a hand slowly over your back, gently but possessively.
âI have actually been thinking the same thing. My body is ready for your seed, im..im ready for it.â
When you agreed with his wish it only made something in him pop, something shifted in Mattheoâs eyes. The hunger and desire growing.Â
He spat out at your spread exposed pussy, as if it wasnât already sopping wet. He just liked the idea of having his bodily fluids in you. He rubbed his full length on the outside of your slit, teasing you, âyou think your tiny pussy can take my cock better than your mouth?â
ShitâŚactually that was an honest question. The few times you tried already, you were only able to take in 3/4th of his length before tearing and asking him to stop. Plus you both havenât fucked in a long while, âMatty, Iâll try by bestâŚâ you sounded a little uneased.Â
He pulls on your arm turning you to look behind at him, âWe don't have to rush this. But I promise iâll make it good for you if you let me. Youâre my wife and you will be the mother of my children soon enough.â He let go of you, bending over to kiss your shoulder blades, biting them roughly before going to your ear, âIâll try to take it slow, but I really need you to take all of me in, darling. I need my seed to make it directly into your womb. I donât want it to possibly drip out. You can do it.â
You moaned at his words of encouragement, you will try your best. He continued to stroke your hair, âlisten to me: youâre my everything. And I won't let you get hurt, okay?â He kissed your temple, âif it is too unbearable, just tell me and I'll stop. Nothing is more important to me than your comfort and trustâŚbut I do want you to give me a baby. A couple of them.â He laughed like his usual self, âso please try hard to take me like a good girl.âÂ
You pulled at his hair harshly, âjust fuck me Riddle.â with that he slapped your ass leaving a red welt in the shape of his hand and squeezing it to lengthen the pain, âatta girlâ. He finger fucked you a little bit more before realigning the tip of his dick to your hole.Â
You closed your eyes, and he began to press into you. It wasn't so bad, actually it already felt amaz - -- okay nevermind. He felt you squeeze around him, and he stopped to reassess the situation, âplease princess, let me in.â
âMatty I donâtâŚI dont think I canâ you gripped onto his jacket for dear life.
âYou can and you will.â He reached over to rub your clit, it helped relax you and he kept sinking deeper and deeper in you. You bit the jacket. It was a crazy mix of pain and pleasure.
âThere we go.â he was satisfied, he was finally balls deep inside you, âsee I knew you could do it.â He stayed still trying to let your pussy try to adjust around him, âyouâre so fucking tight. Actually, I was having second thoughts, but here we are.â He said proudly kissing your neck from behind.
âYouâre so fucking huge Mattheo, youâre too good to me.âÂ
âI adore youâ he whispered, âthereâs no one else like you. YouâreâŚyouâre the love of my life. Both our parents saw that before we did. They knew we were meant for each other when they arranged our marriage.â He groaned as you squeezed him purposefully this time.
âI love you Mattheo. I do.â You manage, your words felt true to each other.
With a tender grip he starts to move his hips slowly away from you only to slam back in. Watching your face for any sign you wanted him to stop but all he got was a smile and, âIâll give you as many children as you want.â
Without proper warning he quickened his pace holding you face down to the floor. You closed your eyes tightly, locking your jaw. You inhaled his smell through his jacket. Pain was being replaced with a pleasurable numbness. Your brain was going utterly stupid, âmake me pregnant Mattheo. Let me make you into a proper daddy.âÂ
He chuckled at that, âfucking take my dick then. Iâll make you the most beautiful mommy there is. You're such a good wife and I know youâll be the best mother to my children.â
Mattheo pressed his hand just under your belly button, he took one of your hands and pressed it there with you, âcan you feel my cock, darling? You can feel it through your tummy.â
âYes I can. I feel so full.â You moan.
His grunt and thrusts began to get sloppy, his balls slapping against your clit. It made you roll your eyes behind your head, âprincess, I thinkâŚâÂ
âMe too, let's cum together. Let's mix ourselves more.â You raised your ass higher, tilting it ignoring the back pain you were getting.
âIâm going to fill you up even more,â he whimpered, his voice faltering as if he was about to cry, âdon't let anything drip out. Take it all in okay?â You nodded, holding your head up and twisting it so uncomfortably around to the side so you can watch him release himself into you. What a sight for sore eyes.Â
His curls were plastered onto his forehead with sweat, his cheeks were flushed. Mattheoâs eyes looked back at your eyes with a longing you haven't seen before, âI love you Y/N. thank you thank you thank you.â He began to repeat, as he shot a large load into you. He was right, you could feel your tummy grow already. You followed shortly after, squeezing and milking his cock out more.
His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he came down from his climax. His body was trembling, but he held you tightly. His face buried in the crook of your neck, âthat was incredible.â He looked at you with adoration and contentment, âyouâve given me everything iâve ever wanted. Thank you.â
âThank you for choosing me after all.â
Mattheo was about to pull out, but you didnât allow him. You pulled at his shirt, making him spoon you on the floor. You wanted to warm his cock, but also use it to continue plugging in his cum inside of you, to be marinated. You told him this too, and he flushed, âhey you said we wouldnât be getting shy with each other, itâs too late for that.â He laughed making his dick still twitch inside you, you let out a moan. He grinned mischievously. You gave him an uncertain look.
Mattheo looked at the clock âyeah we should probably just move the meeting to a different day.â
âDo I really have to call it in again?â
âYes yes you do, youâre my new assistant remember?âÂ
âYeah and soon to be the mother of your children too.â
He wrapped his arms around you in a loving embrace. âI promise to take care of you and our little ones,â he said with sincerity, âYouâll be the most beautiful, loving mother, and I'll support you every step of the way.â
He tugged on the phoneâs cord, pulling it so that it drops on the floor beside the two of you, âgo on call again. Move it for next week.â He starts kissing your jaw again, moving his hips and slithering his hand back to your clit, âI hope you didnât think we were finished, I think I can give you more of my cum to hold.â
oh my gosh, will you PLEASE write more Mattheo smut, itâs incredible
Intoxicating View and Feeling
NSFW. MDNI.
SUMMARY: Your boyfriend looked extra handsome while studying, making you feel slightly needy.
WARNINGS: Mattheo Riddle x fem!Reader, thigh riding, piv, no protection (wrap it b4 you tap it), praise kink, a bit of degrading kink, dirty talking, teasing, begging.
Please let me know if I missed any!
SMUT UNDER THE CUT!
Mattheo and you were studying in his room, well, he was studying. You were laying on his bed, with just his t-shirt and underwear on, almost drooling at how handsome he was looking with a concentrated face and veiny arms. It was mesmerizing.
A thought came to your head and so you decided to go up to him and sit on his thigh. That was how close you needed to be with him.
"What are you doing, pretty?" Mattheo chuckled as he saw your state. Red cheeks and a silly smile were plastered in your face. There were only two options to this, he thought. Number one, you were high (but he hadn't smelt the smoke) or number two, you were horny. Really horny.
"Just came to sit here with you. You look handsome." You said with a goofy smile making him smirk.
"And you are gorgeous." Mattheo said sneaking an arm around your waist. With him complimenting you, the blush was even more noticeable and the blood rushed to the place where you needed your boyfriend the most. Instinctively you grinded your hips against his thigh, a sudden whimper leaving your mouth. It was a new thing. You had never done something like that with anyone. You kept going, just a little bit faster, wanting to feel the coil in your lower stomach explode more than anything. You were to concentrated to fulfill your pleasure, so you didn't notice when Mattheo chuckled at your desperate movements, making him hard. He let you continue, wanting to see how far you would take it. He wanted to see how fast you would release just by fucking yourself in his thigh
Soft moans and whimpers were coming from you, you started moving faster, your legs feeling like fire. Your hand found Mattheo's shoulders and clinged onto him for dear life. Your clit was being constantly stimulated and a really loud moan left your mouth when Mattheo pulled you down by your hips and pushed his leg upward, making the pleasure almost painful.
"You good, pretty girl?" He asked as he guided your hips against his thigh, leaving a wet patch on his jeans. Mattheo was impossibly hard at this point, but he really wanted you to feel good and then give you a great fuck, or as he liked to call it, the love-making moment.
"Mhm, s-so good, 'm close." You said as Mattheo grinned when he saw your eyes roll back and your chest going closer to his, making your back arched. He was completely in love with the girl in front of him. He wanted to see you come undone, to see your tears-stained face when it finally happened. Mattheo started bouncing his leg, your moans increasing.
"I'm about t-to." You said desperately, grinding faster. It felt increadibly good.
"I know baby, I know." Was all he said when he felt you shake on top of him. You looked like a fucking goddes. Your eyes were white, brows scrunched and your lips glossy and pink. Your hair was a bit messy, but it looked as good as ever. Mattheo thought he was looking at an angel in heaven.
When you came back from your high, you fell on top on him, feeling relieved but still wanted more. Your legs burnt but the feeling of being next to him, on top of him was addicting. And then you felt it, Mattheo's hard cock poking you.
"Hey, hey, it's alright if you don't wanna do it, I can totally sort myself out alon-" You interrupted him with a hungry kiss, wanting him to be inside you more than anything, you wanted to feel him everywhere.
Mattheo slowly picked you up while kissing you and laid you on his bed. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, behind your ear, in every place he could find.
"H-hurry, please." You begged, asking him to fill you up quickly. His eyes darkened and took your t-shirt off. You felt exposed, as you were only in panties, but then you remembered who you were with and every insecurity you had left your body.
"So so so pretty..." Mattheo muttered to himself as he kissed and licked your chest. It felt good, so good, and his compliments sent little goosebumps all over your body. He knew what he was doing, at he was brilliant at it.
"Please, Matt, just give it to me, please..." You begged again and that's when Mattheo slowly unbottoned his jeans and pulled down his boxers, completely undressing in front of you. His cock was big, but you already knew that. He chuckled as he saw your expression and yanked your legs around his waist so that his dick was rubbing against your bundle of nerves. The stimulation felt delicious, but you really needed him inside.
Slowly, Mattheo put just the tip inside you, stretching your walls and making you moan at the sensation. But it wasn't enough. You tried getting closer to him with your hips, but he just pushed them down and held them with his hand.
"Please, need you to fill me. Plea-" Your sentence was interrupted with a pleasurable scream coming from you. Mattheo pushed his cock all the way in, completely bruising your cervix. It felt addicting. The feeling of him overstretching your pussy was enough to make you cry out of pleasure.
"Oh, fuck. You always take me so well, don't you? Got me all hard when you were grinding this little cunt over my thigh. You're a dirty girl, ain't you?" Mattheo smirked as he noticed how your walls clenched at his dirty talk. You were a moaning mess, profanities and silent screams leaving your mouth.
"So good for me, yeah... Take it all in like a fucking slut." He said and started rubbing your clit, your legs trying to close at the feeling. It was too much, his dick deep inside your gummy walls, his hand tracing eight figures on your bundle of nerves and he also started kissing your neck. Mattheo pried your legs open and watched as his dick pulled in and out of you, an intoxicating view and feeling.
"Ma-Mattheo, I'm so close... OH MY GOD!" You screamed at the top of your lungs when Mattheo carresed with his tip that especific point inside you that has your vision going blurry. And with that, you came. You came all over Mattheo's cock, spasming and clenching around him for dear life. Your nails clawing his back, leaving huge red marks. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, your back arched again and your squirt wetted all the sheets.
For Mattheo, that feeling was enough to trigger his orgasm.
"You feel like fucking heaven. Shit, gonna cum inside you... Good fucking girl..." Mattheo came, painting your walls white and groaning at the feeling. He kept thrusting, wanting to ride out your and his orgasm.
After the euphoria, Mattheo carefully pulled out, not wanting to hurt your over sensitive cunt. You whimpered at the feeling, but stirred at the tiredness. He noticed this and instead of letting you fall asleep, he carried you to the bathtub, so that you both could clean up before falling asleep.
"I know you are tired, but I'll clean you up and then we'll both cuddle in bed, yeah? Sounds good?" Mattheo asked. You just nodded and let him carry you to the bath.
"You were awesome and did I tell you how gorgeous and what a perfect girlfriend you are?" You smiled at Mattheo's praise.
"You're the perfect boyfriend too. Love you" You said in a sleepy tone.
"Love you too, beautiful." Was all Mattheo said as you heard the water running and felt your body being cleaned up.
1291 words.
SORRY IF I MADE ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.
I really liked this one! I love how it turned out! Hope you like it too!!!
WARNINGS: Mattheo Riddle x fem!Reader. Piv, no protection (wrap it b4 you tap it), breeding kink, praise kink, rough sex, dirty talking, teasing, aftercare (implied, not written), a bit of overstimulation.
Let me know if i missed any, please!
SMUT UNDER THE CUT!
"M-Mattheo, slow d- down!" You cried as Mattheo Riddle thrusted his hips into you at full speed. He was desperate. Desperate to be inside you.
"I think you can take it. Fuck... You are tight." Groaned Mattheo as he chased his high. He was relentless, fucking you like an animal, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head as he grabbed your neck and made you look at him.
"Eyes on me, pretty. Look so good around my cock, am I fucking you dumb, angel?" Mattheo said as he pounded into you without mercy. Everything about him was intoxicating, he had you wrapped around his finger. Your mouth opened and smiled, as a bit of drool fell out of it.
You were close, and Mattheo sensed it. The way your walls clenched about his dick and your high pitched moans flew out of you mouth made him crazy. For him, you were the most beautiful girl to ever exist, looks, personality, cunt. Everything was perfect with you, especially the sex part. How you looked at him with hooded eyes and that fucked-dumb smile made him harder, if that was even possible.
"Oh- OH MY GOD!" You moaned in ecstasy as his mushy tip hit your sweet spot repeatedly. Mattheo was big, and even after having sex almost every day, it always felt new, like the first time.
"Yeah, feels good, huh? Do you like this spot or that one better?" Mattheo chuckled as he thrusted in your G-spot and cervix alternately. Your sight went white and you cried one last time as you let the pleasure consume you. He was good, really good. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, tightening around Mattheo and scratching his back until it bled. Your moans were loud and your back arched till it couldn't anymore. Mattheo kept thrusting, going even deeper, if that was possible. It felt overwhealming, but you were too fucked-out to even care. Your eyes closed as you kept moaning at the stimulation.
"So tight and warm. Want me to cum inside you, aye? Want me to fill you up, honey?" Mattheo said as he started kissing and biting your neck. He was close and you could feel by how his cock throbbed inside you.
"Inside me, please! Want to be filled by you, Matt!" You whimpered at the overstimulation. "Atta girl." Was all Mattheo said before coming inside you, painting all of your walls white. He panted and kept pounding for a bit so that none of his load would spill out of you.
He slowly pulled out of you, making you cry at the emptiness. "You did so good, princess, so so good."
You blushed at Mattheos praise, and waited for him to help you get to the shower, as he always did.
Hoped you liked this one. First time writing Mattheo Riddle.
468 words.
SORRY IF I MADE ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE
WARNINGS: Smut, piv, overstimulation, dom Theo, sub reader, praising, dumbification, a bit of subspace, begging, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, use of the name daddy (not always), breeding kink, size kink?, a tiny bit of aftercare.
Let me know if I missed any, please!
SMUT UNDER THE CUT!
Theo's tip was teasing your clit. You needed him inside you after hours of edging, eating your cunt like a starved man, never letting you feel the true orgasm.
-"You wanna feel me inside you, sweetheart? Just a bit more, I promise, and you'll have my cock deep inside your pussy."
Theo said making you moan and whimper at the dirty talk.
-"Please Theo, please. i.. I need you. I need to feel you please please"
Theo smirked as you begged, watching your arousal mixed with his saliva spilling out of your little cunt.
-"I don't think it will fit, love. What do you think? Can this little pussy take my big cock? Hm?"
Theo said teasingly, making your cunt clench around nothing, feeling even more frustrated.
-"It will! I know it will! I'll take it like a good girl, please, please, I need to feel y... OH!"
You moaned when Theo pushed the tip inside you, your walls stretching and pulsating with desire. Theo looked at you with dark eyes, filled with lust.
-"You wanna come, sweetheart? There's not going back, yeah? I'm sure you'll take it all like a good girl."
Theo slowly pushed his cock all the way, your walls swallowing and almost suffocating him. He was completely inside you, feeling him everywhere. His tip was brushing your cervix, making you cry out in pleasure, but he let you adjust.
-"Look at that, pretty. Look at how good you're taking me, such a good girl. Fuck... Such a tight little pussy, so perfect around me."
At a slow peace, Theo started thrusting inside you deeply, making you moan his name over and over again. Your cunt was aching to be filled to the brim, just like now. Theo groaned, kissing your neck.Â
-"S.. so big. Oh my god! That feels so good T... THEO!"
You moaned loudly when the tip of Theo's cock hit that little spongy spot that makes your pussy clench and scream. Surely, the neighbours already know what's happening.
Theo's thrusting speeded, always hitting that spot, making you see blurry and tear up, it felt so good. Your moans were high, Theo hardening even more while hearing your desperate screams and praising you.
-"You like that, huh? Feels good, honey? Let me take care of you, yeah? I'll make you feel good, fill you with my babies, yeah? Good fucking girl"
Theo was kissing your neck, thrusting into you and sneaking his hand between you two to rub your clit, it was so overwhelming. Your walls clenched even more, indicating that you were close.
-"T... Theo, I'm close, please please please let me cum. Please"
-"Go ahead pretty girl, make a mess on my cock. Milk me, yeah? I've got you, so pretty when you make those noises and tighten around me."
And with that you came around Theo's dick, while his hand was still circling your clit. He rode out your orgasm, but didn't stop. He kept thrusting into you, and dirty talking. You knew that Theo had high stamina, but you hoped that he was close.
-"S'too much! Feels good!"
-"I know beautiful, I know, you did so well, but you can take more. Take daddy's cock like a good girl, yeah? You can."
Theo was thrusting even faster now, but it was difficult for him, your walls were the tightest they've ever been, making it hard to pull out.Â
-"Sweetheart, I need you to relax for me. I promise it'll feel good, c'mon, you can do it. Let daddy push all the way in. Oh, look at that, do you feel me in your stomach, angel?"
Theo said while looking at the bulge that appeared in your belly when he thrusted. He presses down on it, getting you to your high even faster, his cock hitting your cervix.
-"I'm so deep inside you, baby. Want me to breed you like my own little slut? Fucking hell, you feel like heaven, my girl."
Theo's praise brought you to your second orgasm, triggering his first one. You were shaking, but Theo didn't stop. He was breeding you like he owned you, and his thrusting didn't slow down, in fact, he went harder.
-"Theo! I can't take it, please, no more, no more... P... PLEASE!"
Theo didn't stop, he wanted to see you break one last time. He wanted to see you convulse underneath him, he wanted to feel you spasm around his cock. His mind was filled with absolute lust.
-"Pretty girl, weren't you the one begging for my cock before? I know you can take one more, honey. For me, yeah?"
You started scratching Theo's back while he rubbed circles on your bundle of nerves and left hickeys all over you. It was too much, you were completely in subspace, not even thinking. He was fucking you dumb.
-"You look so beautiful when you moan like that, does my cock filling you up and stretching you feel good? I bet it does, you're clenching so tight 'round me. Oh fuck... If you keep doing that I'll come again, sweetheart. So pretty for me, only for me, yeah? Let me feel you cum around my cock one last time."
That was it. You came. Hard. Your thighs started shaking, your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sight in front of Theo was mesmerising, making him come inside you again.
-"Fuck, look so pretty like this, honey, yeah, take it, I'm filling you up like a good girl, so filthy with my babies."
Theo pulled out of you, feeling exhausted. He was lying on top of you, both breathing heavily. You couldn't move your legs, they felt sore and all of your body was sweaty.
-"You did so good sweetheart, wanna take a bath? Yeah, let me help you."
Theo carried you to the bathroom and cleaned you up while praising you. When he was done he dressed you up and himself and cuddles in the bed.
-"I love you so much, my perfect princess."- Theo said while kissing your forehead.
-"Love you too, Theo."- You sleepily said and slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.
1036 words.
SORRY IF I MADE ANY GRAMMAR OR MISTAKE IN GENERAL, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!! :)
having thoughts of finally convincing Mattheo Riddle to let you do his makeup but on one condition!!!!!!!!!!! you have to cockwarm him<33
- đŞŠ
omg omg. youâd be so happy that he finally said yes but of course thereâs a twist. you could see it in his eyes as he smirked up at you, arms folded. so you slowly sink down on his cock, your makeup ready on the table next to you as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. itâs difficult for you to concentrate with his erection buried deep inside of you as you want to move up and down so badly, but youâve also wanted to do his makeup for a long time so you take a deep breath and redirect your attention to the makeup. mattheo, on the other hand, fucking loves seeing you struggle, even though you try your best to hide it. âthatâs my girl. now stay still for me if you wanna do my makeup.â
theo tenderly eating out reader after a long day of schoolwork n during, just overall taking good care of her
âhmm, you did so well today. now, let me take care of my girl.â theo murmurs with his head buried between your legs, his tongue slowly moving over your cunt. you could feel your worries gradually subsiding as he pushes your legs further open with his strong hands before pressing his face deeper into you. you run your fingers through his soft hair, a moan leaving your mouth as theo sloppily sucks on your sensitive clit, causing you to arch your back.
âyou taste so good, sweetheart.â he praises as he gazes up at you with his stunning eyes, causing you to throw your head back as you pull his hair, making him moan into your cunt. he then gently slips a finger into you while still licking and sucking on your swollen clit, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. âf-fuck! right there, babyâ you let out a hitched breath as theo pushes another finger in before skillfully curling them up and rubbing against your sweet spot with each movement he makes.
âcum for me.â theo orders as his digits increase in speed with his mouth sloppily sucking on your aching clit, saliva running down his chin. you could feel the pleasure building before your orgasm abruptly struck you, causing you to cum all over his face as your thighs cage his head while moaning out his name. he cockily smirks against your cunt while licking up all of your cum, causing you to shake in overstimulation. âthatâs my good girl.â
hi ari. random question : do you think theo would put his cold hands between your thighs to warm them up? đŠ
i fully believe theoâs love language is physical touch, meaning he has his hands on you in some way at all times. his hands being cold is just a (shitty) excuse to touch you again, whining about you having to warm him up as youâre always hot. you let out a gasp when you feel his freezing hands against your warm skin before his wandering hands travel higher up under your skirt, and luckily for him, you arenât even wearing underwear. âall for me, cara mia?â he smirks as his chilly digits make contact with your cunt, the coldness only intensifying the sensation as he lazily rubs circles on your sensitive clit, making you bury your face in the crook of his neck <3
literally anything with toxic theo and chokingđđź
PS i love u my beautiful gfđ
âso pretty, cara miaâ theo growled as he slammed into you, his hands firmly gripping your hips as his fingers dug into your flesh, âespecially when you shut that mouth of yours.â his hand then travelled from your hips all over your body before he tightly wrapped it around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel slightly lightheaded.
this was the usual way of making up in your relationshipâ no talking, only sex. it always ended in sex, just for you two to argue again the next day and repeat the same cycle. but right now, in this moment, you didnât care one bit. the only thing you could think about was the way his cock was massaging your walls so perfectly, as if he was made for just you.
âfuckâfuck you, theoâ you snarled back, your eyes narrowing before they slowly fluttered shut. he continued hitting that one spot inside of you that made you see stars as he began peppering kisses all over your neck, âweâre already on it right now, no?â you could practically feel him smirking against your skin as his hand added more pressure around your neck, followed by him pounding into you even harder. âyou might hate me but youâll never hate the way i fuck you, amore.â
theodore nott as your ex-boyfriend is far from easy. with him, it isnât just breaking up and moving onâ because how can you truly move on when he still stares at you every day in class, leaves you notes and tells you he misses you every chance he gets? so⌠you arenât exactly surprised, but simply disappointed in yourself when youâre laying underneath him on his bed, with your legs wrapped around his body. but god, the familiarity of his signature cologne filling your nostrils and hearing his deep voice and italian accent once again makes you forget that you even broke up in the first place.
âyou missed me, amore?â he asks with a cocky grin, gazing down at you while pounding into you at a steady pace, your sharp nails dragging down his bare back as you can feel your head spinning, still feeling very intoxicated. you roll your eyes at his horribly timed question, as you let out a chuckle in disbelief. you donât want this to become all emotional and about feelingsâ sex and then you leave, thatâs your only intention for the night.
âjust shut up and fuck me, okay?â you hiss as you narrow your eyes at him. an amused smirk spreads on his face before he leans towards your neck, leaving sloppy kisses on your skin and nibbling on your earlobe, knowing exactly what drives you crazy as you let out a loud moan that you desperately tried to suppress, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
âi know you missed me, cara mia. you think i canât tell? iâve seen the way you watch me from across the room, and how you try to get my attention with those ridiculously short skirts youâve been wearing.â he aggressively sucks on your soft skin, leaving hickeys wherever he can to claim you as his once again.
it is terrible, reallyâ the way he knows exactly how to turn you into putty beneath him. he just knows exactly what to say, where to touch you, and how to fuck you that got you craving for more and more every time again. and at this point, you slowly start to realise this probably isnât going to be a one- time thing only anymore. âwhether you like it or not, youâll always be my pretty slut. you can date, or fuck whoever you want, but we both know youâll always come back to me. no one can fuck you as good as i can, piccola.â
ŕŠâĄËł
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