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gayerthanevertbh · 3 years ago

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words don’t come easy - part one.

pairings | natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff

summary | natasha romanoff falls in love with an 18-year-old girl from italy, and they began to have countless innuendos encounters. wanda maximoff began to think that their affair was somewhat unbearable while natasha; she has two months left to make the secret relationship count.

warnings | 18+! YOU’VE BEEN WARNED! age difference (7 years apart), major angst, fluff, secret relationship, smut, cheating, and more.

notes | i posted this on wattpad & ao3 but some people would like to read it here so, yay! i know this will flop, but i don’t give a shit. i love writing this and i love wandanat so much so... enjoy!

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10

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We'll only stay for a few months. Don't worry about it, Wanda.

We were living in this two-story house that looked fairly old but was still livable since my parents bought it in the meantime. I didn't know when I turned eighteen we were going to a different country, so I was surprised to be woken up by different surroundings. My brother, Pietro, hops around the house like a little kid. There were still furniture paddings on each surface I see – and a big old painting in the middle of the room. Assuming it's Édouard Manet, Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe – which is a classic. I clung to my rib-knit beige cardigan around my body and took a few steps to the patio, where there was a white table the same color as the chairs that looked it's about to perish; but looked comfortable to sit on, I think.

"We have neighbors five minutes away from the house," papa mentioned behind me as I turned my head to see him dropping off the bags onto the ground with a loud thud, making Pietro flinch – I try to suppress a laugh. "Why don't you and Pietro go introduce yourselves? They're very friendly."

"Can we sleep first?" Pietro asked, still lying down on the dusty couch with his arm covering his eye. I rolled my eyes and slapped his upper arm playfully, but maybe with intention too. He groaned and stood up, tucking his button-up white shirt into his high-waisted dark blue cargo pants. Then, I opened the front door and almost shielded my eyes from the sun striking through our pale skins – making Pietro hiss like a vampire.

"Do you think it's too hot to even go out?" I asked, turning my head slightly to look at Mama and Papa, who didn't seem to be that bothered by the warm ray of the sun.

Papa shakes his head, encouraging us to leave the house. "Oh come on, a sun wouldn't hurt, right? Now go, I want both of you to make friends."

Pietro brought out the bike from the van, dropping it onto the ground while grabbing mine as he held it for me. He asked, "I really don't plan to do this, sistra."

"Yeah well me neither," I said, sighing loudly. As if saying: this is such a childish thing to do but I had no choice. Me and Pietro cycled quietly down the path, almost in awe at how greenery my surrounding was. There was a field of flowers on my left, and on my right were just trees and grass. Not even for five minutes we were in some lonesome town that seemed to be unbothered and clean. I saw a house that looked inviting and decided to park my bike there, dropping it onto the ground like Pietro did with his bike a while ago. I could hear him sigh once I reached the front door – almost a sign of regret plastered on my face.

"Is this even a good idea?" he asked, scratching the back of his head. If I do disagree with him, then there wouldn't be any accomplishments that I've done today. And possibly, Papa would be disappointed in us. Sometimes Papa can be hardheaded, very forceful if it's a must. But we didn't oppose it because it was never our place to do so. Without even thinking about my own actions, I knocked on the door. Twice.

The door swooshes open and saw a blonde green-eyed girl who looked like she didn't want to be bothered. I lifted my hand up to wave hello but she cut me off, saying: "You're the Maximoffs, I know. Your father is a very rich man, eh?"

I noticed that she has a thick Russian accent, which wasn't so difficult to understand since she speaks with my own accent once. I nodded and gave her a small smile, fondling the cloth of my cardigan. Then she says again, "If you're looking for Natasha, she's picking some citrus. She'll come back in a few minutes, I hope."

"We're not technically looking for her," mentioned Pietro, which made the girl scrunch both of her eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"We are here to introduce ourselves," I said, dragging my words like I was embarrassed — which I am right at this moment. I can tell that the girl wanted to laugh since her mouth was twitching. If she laughs, then I laugh. Then, we would all laugh like a circus. "I–Well, my name is Wanda. That's my brother Pietro, it's nice to meet you."

"Yelena Belova," she introduced herself, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She wore a tight white tank top and loose shorts all the way to her thighs. "Ciao, I guess. Well, I could introduce you to my sister, but right now she's gone."

She has mentioned it twice, and I noticed it pretty well. I think sometimes I'm a heavy listener that I do have this hypothetical memory where I absolutely remember every word that a person would say, even a place. I nodded and wrapped my arms around myself, feeling a little uncomfortable from the radiating heat above us. Eventually, she asked us to go to the back of her house and we sat on the bench – waiting for her sister. I don't even know why we were supposed to meet her sister, was she important? I'm assuming that she was. I hear Pietro murmuring: I just know her sister is hot.

I cursed inwardly to myself to even think that way too. Maybe her sister was such incredible beauty that I could make myself gasp and wonder why haven't I seen a goddess like her?

Until I was right, I almost gasped at how beautiful her sister was.

She's a redhead, tall, and stood in front of us with a broad shoulder – looking tough. I'd say she looked more of a masculine side, but she's also feminine with the features on her face. She looked at Pietro, then at me. And as much as I wanted her to look at me more, she removed her eyes away and averted them back to Yelena. In her hand, there was a basket full of citrus; the fresh ones. So that's probably the reason why she's been away.

"They are our new neighbors," Yelena said, making a small smile ahead of us. "Maximoffs, remember?"

Yelena must've talked about us moving here for two months to Natasha since she looked surprised that it was us, the Maximoffs. I don't see the reason why they have to go with that term, it makes me feel like I don't belong somewhere. Clearly, I don't belong here. But I didn't have to worry since I'm not going out of my room anyway for the whole summer after the whole scenario going on right now.

Natasha, I could tell, was quite smitten with Pietro and me. She was shaking his hand, telling him it was a pleasure meeting a boy like him until she came across to me, and we held eye contact for a few seconds. She gently takes my hand and shakes it, her eyes never leaving mine. I blurted out: "Wanda, Wanda Maximoff."

"It's nice meeting you then, Wanda."

Then it hit me. I was extremely attracted to her for only a few minutes of my life. I wouldn't say I was obsessed, I can't even exaggerate with that term but she was charming – so charming that my body hurts from her whipped smile. She lifts up her hand to scratch her nape and I can see the edging details on her muscles. My, she was beautiful and so strong, does she lift? It's a weird question to even think about; but I also can't help it.

Natasha invited us inside her house, which looked very homey and as if someone really does live there. Sometimes, people only use houses to put up a show. Sure, there was nice furniture and great adds onto it; but it never looked like someone was living there in oasis peace. The tiles were very dark orange, leading its way to the backyard and I saw a small circular pool at the left corner while there was a barbeque stand on the right. Turning around, a curved doorway that looked like a Spanish architect led me to the kitchen area. I was very curious about the design that was built in this home, so I asked Natasha who is back facing me: "Did you design this home?"

She turns around, puts two glasses of water down on the dark oak table, and leans her butt against the edges of it. "My friend did, he's an incredible designer. I was the one who picked the color, although he did say that my color choice was awful. So, he tried putting my taste to his idea and now you've got yourself a beautiful home."

I derived a smile that looked like I was about to chuckle or it was just a genuine smile. Either way, she gave me the same treatment and I stood there awkwardly, my hands still wrapped around me. I felt guarded, somehow. I don't know if bringing my arms down would help me from my fidgeting but hopefully – she doesn't notice it; which it seems like she hasn't.

"Where are you from?" her question made me feel nervous, timid, and slightly excitable. It was hard for me to process the words inside my head but gladly, I knew what to say. Although it came out as a stutter as I replied to the kind woman in front of me.

"New York, but actually – I was born from Sokovia."

"Your parents must be wealthy then if you guys get to do this a lot." she humored, making my smile lift up to my cheeks until my teeth were shown. I then shake my head, walking around in circles to stop myself from feeling this attraction for a woman who's probably a decade older than me. Which made me ask: "How old are you? You seem mature."

"Mature?" Natasha's eyebrows lift up, I don't know if she was hurt or relieved by my statement but she responded quickly, "I'm twenty-five, do I look that old?"

She looks mature for such a young age, yet ethereally beautiful; especially with that deep hooded eyes that looked like she wants to attract me as well. I looked at her hand and noticed that she subconsciously dances her fingers on the surface of the wood, maybe three to four times. Then she stops, looking at her hand and then doing the same motion until we fall into this comfortable silence.

"You look great for your age," I tell her with pure honesty. "Are you working?"

She smiles as if pleased with the question I occur and leans more of her back onto the air, both of her hands on the table to elevate her body. "I do photography, graduated from it too. But right now, I'm just working for my buddy Clint."

I make an ah sound as if sounding interested in her whole life job or something like that. I haven't experienced having a job so it's hard to relate to her, especially when she's seven years older than me. I bet she's much wiser, smarter, and ethical. I was immature, hotheaded, and severely infatuated with everyone I dropped my eyes to. And when I met Natasha for the first time, I knew what road I was going to take.

"You? Do you work?" she asked, her voice brightening up more than a while ago. I shake my head; her face makes a weird look. "Oh, so you're a teen?"

"Eighteen," I responded like I was correcting her. Although that age does sound like a teenager too, so maybe I was still a teenager. At least I am at the right age and can do legal stuff; so I hope that won't be concerning for her. "Do I look that old?"

She shakes her head, dropping her head down for a few seconds and then looking back up at me.

"No, I just assumed that you were working."

"I just finished high school," I mentioned, acting like a proud adult who just graduated a few weeks ago. And I was indeed proud of myself; she smiles at me and begins to have this fondness around me that I'm not quite sure what of. "I want to major in writing and journalism. Does that suit me?"

"I think you can, I bet you're a smart girl."

Does she mean that? I don't normally like taking compliments. In fact, I do despise people saying: you're a talented writer, you should make a book! And that would enrage me to my bones until I was fuming. But when you have modesty, sometimes that doesn't mimic your face. So, I never acted out immaturely about it, I would just say my gratefulness and continue to be pissed off over nothing in particular. But it sounded like she meant it, or maybe I was just having this erratic crush on her that made me believe she meant it.

"I'd think I'm a smart girl if you think that way then." I joked, which made my face slightly turn red as I flirted with her in a way that she probably noticed. And of course, she did. Natasha gave me a quick smirk and stood up properly, walking to the doorway and turning her head to me, asking: "Why don't you come with me? Do you want to see my pictures?"

I recognize the way she walked to this shed where it looked uninviting. That's probably the way she's telling other people to stay out of her business, and I respect that. And once I came inside the small shed, I was greeted with red lights surrounding me that almost hurt my eyes. She says, "I'm sorry if it's a bit warm in here, sometimes it gets so hot that you can barely breathe in this hellhole. Come, here are my pictures."

Natasha's photos were eye-capturing. She was more on structures, architectural buildings, and landscapes. But mostly on these gothic buildings that have spikes all the way to the top, I can sense that she connected with more of those things other than taking pictures of people. When she proudly talked so eloquently about her photographic pictures, all I did was stare and admire the way she was so passionate about her hobby. It's something I could fully adapt to in my later years.

To much of my dismay, Pietro and I went back home after a few hours of being at their house. I'd say it was almost a disaster, but it never was ever since I met her. Was I starting to succumb to this undying infatuation over a woman who's almost ten years older than me? Possibly, but as if she would have an idea about it. But as the way she calls out my name rolls out of her tongue perfectly well, my knees weakened as well as my heart.

Say my name like that again, please say it like that again.

"Do you like her?"

I knew this was about to come, Pietro has sensed it ever since Natasha and I interacted like that. I didn't want to say anything about it, merely because I'd get annoyed with the topic and shut him out like I always do. But, I turned around and gave him a shrug on the shoulder; he smirked playfully. "So you do like her, I know. She's very forward, isn't she sistra?"

Acting innocent as I always do, I murmured: "No, why do you think that?"

He mimics my shrug, following my movements to tease me as he usually does.

"Your little boyfriend won't be as happy if he knows an older woman is all flirty with you."

Steve Rogers. The first boy to ever lay eyes on me, the first person to ever hold out my hand. I remember before leaving I gave him my bracelet, as a sign of my affection. But I never really had this idea of being in love with him, it's more like a fling or you're still in this honeymoon phase where he couldn't stop chasing you. And he never did. It got to the point where I asked Pietro back home to tell him I was severely sick; we laughed about it to this day.

I sighed through my nose and shrugged again, laying on the mattress – sprawled out. "He won't know because there's nothing going on."

Pietro smiles, I don't know if it was genuine or if he's smiling to tease me once more, but it did feel real. Then, he mumbles: "Just don't do something that will break his heart."

And once he left, I was alone again – Natasha still remained in my thoughts pretty vaguely but started to become a clearer vision once I remembered the way she would say: it's not just about pictures, it's about how you connect to the piece of art. She was biblical with her words, wise that a philosophical person would act. But there was a charm in her, wittiness too if I may add. I was simply attached to how she took me out of the shed with her hand tangled in mine like it was made to fit. I wonder if I ever become vulnerable to her, there might be something more than just being in this state: friends.

The next day, I visited her again. Although this time, she was gone as Yelena mentioned to me. I forgot that Natasha was a working woman, so I cycled back home with a disappointed heart. And to my expectations, Pietro was there – waiting for me outside by the steps.

"You went to her without me?" he asked with a broad tone but light, then shuffles his hair onto his hand. "Listen, your boyfriend might come here. Mama said to keep your room clean as she says: you never know boys. Poor Mama has to put up with you... huh?"

"You are an asshole," I mumbled, kicking him in the shins. I almost smiled profoundly at myself once I heard him grunting faintly at my back; and began to walk to the patio to see Papa verbally speaking to someone on the phone. He turns and looks at me, giving me a smile. I smiled back but sat on the couch – picking up the book papillon that talks about a man who never gave up on the world called hope. I haven't read the book much, so I started reading it until a few hours later I had fallen asleep.

Natasha Romanoff, Natasha Romanoff, what a beautiful name to say – it almost sounds poetic and dreamy. The constant feeling of her once touching my hand never wavers away like the ocean, I was infatuated. But was I, really? Maybe the city Bergamo wasn't as displeasing as I thought it would be.

And the second time we hung out, it was at this clubhouse were there not so many people surrounded. I saw Natasha wearing this white one-piece swimsuit with her hair tied up in a braided style. I felt nude with my own swimming suit, it felt too revealing but honestly – it was just me impressing her, luring her by.

"I'm happy that you came," said Natasha with a wide smile on her face. Then, motioning me to sit by the bench near the pool. It was a bright day for me, but it didn't hurt my skin; which I'm thankful for. I watch as she sits down beside me, our feet accidentally touching on the sides – I almost felt out of control over my own emotions. "Look, see that girl over there?"

I nodded, looking at the tanned girl with beautiful blonde locks. She continued, "She once gave me my own tarot card."

Being so fond of her own story, I asked: "What was the card about?"

"Something about love life," she swoons, stretching her arms out – which I gladly watch but not in a noticeable way. "That I'd meet the one for me on such an unexpected occasion."

Now, I may overthink this, but was it me? I could've sworn it was me, oh is it me? My thoughts of her destiny swirl around my head like alcohol, getting me all hazed and blurry eyes. But I managed to nod and swing my legs back and forth, biting my lower lip as I was sitting so madly close to her. Then, she says something again.

"Where's your house?"

"It's not far from here," I responded nonchalantly, acting as if I'm not interested in her question. God, was I cruel. I looked to her side and asked, "Gonna stalk me now, Romanoff?"

She laughs and shakes her head, which made my stomach turn into these knots that are untreatable. She picks up a strand of her hair and tucks it back to her ear, replying: "Could be. Hey, I'm glad that I've made a friend in this hopeless town. God knows I need one."

"Don't you have friends?" I said with a cocky tone, lifting my eyebrows at her. Natasha just rolls her eyes and shakes her head; assuming it was a no. Was her life as sad as mine? Then, we were likely the same.

"I do, I just don't negotiate with them."

Then before I could respond to her statement, I felt her hand squeezing my shoulder. I almost flinched from her warm touch, the way she said: I'm going for a swim and I watch her from afar as she does so. She was beautiful, alluring, compelling, disarming – no, far from that. Natasha was never that. But as she makes the butterfly strokes, I mindlessly touched my shoulder; feeling as if she touched me again for the first time. My, I was whipped. The good thing is, Pietro wasn't here to notice that action.

Hopeless. I was a kid. She was a full-on adult, living her life. At least I was at the right age to have this silly infatuation with her.

Our connection was never casual.

thoughts? <3

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #natasha x wanda #wandanat #natasha romanoff fanfic #wanda maximoff fic #wandanat angst #natasha romanoff angst #wdce series

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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I’ve Told You Now - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where alpha!Bucky fucks you in front of the other avengers

Warnings: smut, a/b/o dynamics, public sex, oral (f), p in v, possessiveness

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Thank you to my lovely @wakingbeauty for giving this a read for me! This is strictly the product of mine and @navybrat817‘s belief that public sex should be more common in A/B/O dynamics, so there you have it 😊 Also, I used a prompt the sweet @jbreenr gave me ages ago for a headcanon and I asked to save it for this story since it made such perfect sense! Hope you guys like it! I might write more public sex A/B/O smut in the very near future!

Bucky’s P.O.V.

Everyday was the same. I’d wake up and join the rest of the team for breakfast to find out that despite the fact that someone had saved me a seat, that same someone had thought of a new joke to make at my expense.

If I thought Tony’s nicknames were bad, this was a whole new level. It’s like she wanted to find all the little ways to annoy me, while still remaining mindful of my recovery process and triggers.

I’d never met an omega like that before. Back in my time, omegas were mostly prim and proper, almost shy around alphas, even if they were starting to show a little more skin and entertain the possibility of staying closer to us for longer periods of time.

I wasn’t used to someone who felt so comfortable with my intimidating aura, and the alpha in me definitely couldn’t grow used to seeing so much of her skin all the time. By now, I was sure she was doing it on purpose.

She knew how it affected me, she could smell it - every omega was able to identify when a nearby alpha was aroused. And I knew it turned her on in return. I was also biologically wired to sense that.

It was basically a game of who would break first. And I knew she thought she would win, but my resolve still wasn’t broken.

“Ah… What a lovely day. So full of possibilities… if you’re not a hundred years old,” she quickly added, throwing me a glance that had me rolling my eyes. “What do you say, grandpa? Feel like going out for a run?”

Who knows what I would have answered if she hadn’t decided to pull her hair up right at the second Wanda opened the window to look out into the field? The smile that had been on my face quickly dropped when I was hit with a heavy wave of her scent and my knees buckled as I tried to hold myself back from just jumping on top of her.

Unfortunately, because awareness was not something she seemed capable of having, she did not realize my struggle. “What’s wrong, old man? Can’t even keep up anymore?” The growl that escaped my chest at her joke was all the warning she needed to finally understand what was going on.

“I’ll show you what I can keep up.” I was on her in a second, my consciousness of our surroundings reduced to absolutely nothing. It was only her and me, and the way our lips moved as I guided her back to the couch, until we both fell on top of it.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” I asked as I tore her shirt with a simple flick of my wrist. “Is this how you wanted it to happen? For me to lose all control and just take you right here?” All that left her was a garbled sound, her hands clawing at my back as I easily got rid of her jeans until they were nothing but scraps on the floor and then exposed her pussy to the tower’s living room.

“Fuck yes,” I growled, immediately leaning down to get a taste of her. Sweet and wet and mine, all mine. I had no idea where that possessive instinct had come from, but I would be crazy to ignore it - especially since it felt like I’d kill and die for her at that very second.

Her hips jerked up, instinctively searching for my tongue, but a breeze of clarity seemed to brush over her and make her sit up on her elbows, looking down at me. I knew what was running through her mind before she said it, and I wasn’t having any of it.

“You better lay back down and let me savor my meal,” I warned, knowing the rest of the team had gathered around to watch the show. I didn’t have to take my eyes off her debauched state to know it, but her gaze was on them, even if the rest of her body was still spread open for anyone to see, uncaring of the fact that we were being watched.

“You poked the beast, now you’ll entertain it,” Steve warned, shaking his head as if to scold us, but when I met his eyes, I could see the glint of desire in them. He wanted to be in my position, he wanted to have his own tongue shoved deep inside my girl’s pussy, and it only made me eat her more hungrily.

“Eyes on me, ‘mega,” I called out to her once I saw her eyes linger on Steve. “Let them watch, that’ll keep them away from you.” She groaned at the possessiveness in my words, but it was the sounds of someone who was relishing in it. And I was relishing in her juices.

“Fuck!” She cursed when I buried my tongue as far as it could go in her, something deep inside of me desperate to be drowning in her scent. “Should have gotten you mad before.��

The thought was amusing to me. Did she really think this was only the result of pent-up anger, and not months of desire and lust that had finally spilled from my weakened resolve?

“Well…” I started, pushing two fingers inside of her to scissor her open for me, although my scent had already made her body as prepared for an Alpha an Omega could get.

I was a bit larger than usual Alphas, though - courtesy of the serum - so I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t go through any pain whatsoever. “You keep me mad all the fucking time, kitten.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“With desire or anger, it doesn’t really care,” he continued, like it was any ordinary day and we were chatting in the living room, our usual teasing banter taking over the conversation, instead of him eating me out on the couch in front of all of our teammates while I was spread out for their eyes to take in.

“You’re always a tease to me, in one way or another.” His huge hands massaged the inside of my thighs as he finally lowered himself to suck on my nub again, making me instinctively buck my hips up in search of his tongue.

“Stay…” he ordered in his Alpha tone, and the whine that broke free from my chest was more animal than human now. The way he used his mouth was nothing short of sinful, licking me from ass to clit with an eagerness I had never expected the former Winter Soldier to have.

But I guess today I was discovering all of my fantasies about Bucky had been a bit misplaced. For one, I never thought he’d be the type of Alpha to take me in such a public environment.

In every dirty dream I’d had, Bucky was far too possessive to allow anyone to explore what was his - even if it was only visually - but what I’d come to learn was that while he was definitely dominating, there was a hint of exhibitionism in his craving.

He liked to have people see him break me into a million pieces only to glue me back together with a lick of his tongue. He liked that they were seeing his talent - and I had to admit, by what I saw in his friend’s stare, that they were also admiring me too.

And he got off on that. I didn’t expect it would make me get off too.

“Delicious,” he hummed when he finally pulled away from my cunt, having brought me to my release and licked it off of me. Still, an overwhelming amount of wetness covered the lower part of his face, prompting me to raise myself to my elbows and lick my own juices off of his lips, the omega in me begging to scent him as mine.

“You’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t you?” He chuckled once the surprise faded away, easily manhandling me onto my stomach, the sound of a zipper being opened denouncing that he had undressed.

“Keep fucking me and you’ll find out.” I heard him spitting behind me, a shiver running up my spine as I realized he was playing with himself while looking at me presenting for him.

“Oh, I’ll do much better than that.” That was all the warning I got before I felt the head of his member poking my entrance, slowly but surely sliding in until he had bottomed out.

My whines became intensified when he pulled me up by my hair, his free hand covering my breast to rub my nipple as he whispered, “I’m gonna claim you, sweetheart. You think you’re ready for that? Think you’ll be able to take it?”

I was quickly realizing I had severely underestimated the man inside of me, even if not to the extent he thought I had. I was not ready for that. I don’t think I ever would be, but fuck if I wasn’t gonna take it anyway.

Because it was so much better than I ever imagined it to be.

“No more playing hard-to-get,” Bucky continued, finally starting to move and immediately settling on a punishing pace. “No more teasing me with your short skirts and tempting scent. You’ll be mine now, ‘mega. Forever. How does that sound?”

God, I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to keep exercising this complete control over my body that he had so easily managed to take. His cock was stretching me in ways I’d never been stretched before, his inflated knot slamming against my opening with each thrust.

“Always mocking me… Am I too old for you now?” I shivered as he licked a stripe up my neck. I knew he wouldn’t actually bite me in front of everyone - a claiming ritual was a sacred ritual, even the most feral of Alphas respected the intimacy of that. But the way he was taunting me was all too arousing, I couldn’t deny it. “Tell me.”

His hand squeezed my hip, looking for an answer. I tried to open my mouth, but nothing came out. His palm slipped further down, finding my clit, and as two fingers rubbed my own juices, around it, I screamed.

“N-No!” Bucky chuckled against my neck, body continuing his onslaught against mine as he nuzzled my scent gland. “Y-you’re not too old for me. Take me, take me please.” His coos were too provoking, making me cry out loud at the mocking sound.

“Aw, kitten…” His warm mouth breathed the next words against my ear, “I already did.” He turned my face towards his with his fingers tangled in my hair, engulfing my mouth with his.

“Alright.” A familiar voice spoke from not too far, startling me for a second as I once again was reminded that we were still very much surrounded by our team. “You two might just be the sexiest mates I’ve ever seen fuck.”

A growl escaped Bucky’s chest at hearing someone refer to us as mates for the first time, and I panted in need, desperate to cum, desperate for him. “Seen a lot of mates fuck, Romanoff?” He nibbled at my ear, hands roaming over my body as if to make it very clear to every person watching that they could look all they wanted, I was still his.

“You have no idea.” Looking over a bit to the side from where she was seated, there rested Sam’s almost limp body, a hand curled over his boner as his eyes never wavered from the place I was connected to the man behind me.

“Well, I know what I’m gonna think about tonight.” Something between a laugh and a moan escaped me, making Bucky growl again, hands pushing me back down onto the couch as his hips picked up the pace with which they’d ruin me.

To say I was soaked was the understatement of the century. I could feel it, running down my thighs, drenching the couch underneath me. I don’t know how we’d be able to use it again, but that was the least of my concerns in the moment.

“I am begging you to let me lick her pussy after you guys are done,” came Tony’s voice, and I knew Bucky would growl in his direction just from the way his fingers pressed tightly on the flesh of my hips. “Not that type of Alpha, sorry, I got it.”

I heard his footsteps retreating quickly, probably scared of what Bucky would do to him once we were done, but in the Alpha’s defense, Tony seemed to disappear from his mind the second he left the room, all of his senses directed to me and his goal of making me cum around his cock.

“C’mon, kitten,” he whispered, fingers easily locating my clit to play with me as he pulled me up to rest against his chest one more. “Come for me, milk me dry.” That was all I needed to give him what he wanted, and although I was anticipating to moan loudly as I creamed his knot, his mouth covered mine to swallow all of my sounds in a deep kiss, hands protectively covering me while pawing at my breasts at the same time.

“Steve,” Bucky called after he managed to catch his breath, having fallen on top of me on the couch once his knot popped open. “I won’t be able to work out with you today.”

I looked up as best as I could to find Steve already staring at us, although red from head to toe. “That’s understandable,” he spoke in a thick, rough voice that I barely recognized as his. “You seem to have worked out enough already.”

Bucky stopped running his nose against my cheek at his friend’s attempt at teasing, a slow smirk taking over his face as he joined me and stared at his friend. “Oh, I’m not nearly done,” he warned. “You’re more than welcome to join us for some cardio, if you want to.”

The soft smile Steve sent our way told us everything we needed to know about his plans for the evening.

#my fics #alpha au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes reader inserts #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot

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asciendo · 4 years ago

Text

Your Eyes Tell

You break up with Zuko when Ozai threatens his life if you continue with your relationship. But when you find out Ozai sends an assassin to kill him when he leaves to join team Avatar, you leave the Fire Nation to save him despite knowing how much you hurt him.

It's been two months since you broke up with Zuko and now he's gone.

You heard from your father that Zuko switched sides and joined the Avatar. You tried to hide your concern at the dinner table as your father broke the news to your family. Your mother gave you a worried look as she always had suspicions about your relationship with the Prince.

"Ozai is furious. I don't think he's going to give Zuko another chance after this." Your father stated as you continued to fiddle with your hands. "That's his son. I don't think...do you think he'd go that far?" Your mother questioned. "I don't know...you saw what he did to Zuko after he questioned him..." Your father sighed. You tried to remain calm but you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest.

Your father was a high ranking general and was a close confidant of Ozai. Although, lately you could tell he's been questioning Ozai's methods after seeing the destruction and death he's been laying upon the other nations. Your father was loyal to the Fire Nation would do anything to protect its people, but you'd overhear him and your mother talking about how he was worried about Ozai's methods.

"He's sending an assassin after Zuko." Your gaze shot up, "WHAT?!" You blurted out. "A-are you sure?" Your mother asked and your dad nodded. "He's sending the combustion mad." You froze. He was known to be one of the most ruthless assassins in the Fire Nation. He was known to master a rare style of fire bending that allows him to trigger explosions from a tattoo on his forehead. "I'm not feeling well...can I go to my room?" You asked and your father nodded leaving your mother with a concerned look in her eyes as you left.

As soon as you entered your room you fell to the floor and cried. You hated this. You hated yourself for breaking up with Zuko but you had no choice.

It was two months ago and you were walking around the palace. Thanks to your father's close relationship with the Fire Lord, you spent your whole life within the palace walls. You grew up with Azula and Zuko and your families were close as well. It wasn't until Zuko returned from his banishment that the both of you began your relationship but decided to keep it a secret as he still had a lot to prove to his father. Zuko wanted to prove he was focused and determined and if Ozai found out he was seeing you, Zuko would be right back where he started before leaving to capture the Avatar.

Unfortunately, your fears came true and Ozai discovered your secret relationship. You were on your way home after sneaking into Zuko's room and as you made your way to the throne room until you heard voices. You recognized one to be Ozai's and the other Azula's.

"Your brother appears to be distracted these days." Ozai's voice boomed throughout the room. " Well it's because he's with his little girlfriend most of the time." Azula replied

"Girlfriend?!" Ozai fires back and you gulp. "Yes, your favorite general's daughter." There was a hint of disgust in Azula's voice which made your blood boil. Despite being "friends" with Azula, it was obvious she looked down on you along with Mai and Tai Lee.

"First, Zuko questions me, now he's frolicking with that girl instead of focusing on his duties as Fire Prince." Ozai growls and you heard his footsteps walk back and forth as he paced around his throne. "He has to be taught a lesson that boy."

"I couldn't agree more, father." You could almost see the smirk on Azula's face at the tone of her voice. "I wonder...does Zuko really need his other eye?" Your heart dropped. His father was about to punish Zuko again...because of you. Your memory shot back to the moment Ozai burned Zuko's face in their Agni Kai. You remember burying your face in your hands while trying to shut out Zuko's screams. .

"Bring him here." Ozai commanded. You don't know what came over you, but you found yourself running into the throne room.

Azula and Ozai both stared at you and Azula chuckled. "Don't hurt him." You were surprised at your own voice coming out. "And why shouldn't I? He's being careless and has to be taught a lesson."

"I'll end it." Your voice shook as you were being stared down by the two of them. "Would that even do anything?" Azula rolled her eyes as she lazily observed her fingers.

"It will. You'll see...it was my idea to start a relationship. Not his. If you're going to punish someone...punish me." Azula raised an eyebrow at your suggestion and looked towards Ozai who began to think.

"Not necessary." Ozai stated and Azula frowned. "Your father is an important ally of mine, wouldn't want to upset him."

The room fell silent as the three of you stared at one another. "I suppose...if you end your relationship with my son...that will do for now." Your shoulders dropped in relief.

"But, I don't care if you're together or not, if he upsets me in any way again I won't hold back." Ozai turned his back and left the room. Azula smirked at you and followed him out.

You were lying in bed that night and couldn't sleep. Your mind was racing with thoughts of Zuko and how you were going to end it. You heard the window open and the sound of familiar footsteps making its way to your bed.

Before Zuko could slip in next to you, you immediately turned away from him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he chuckled but you refused to answer.

"I don't need you anymore." You spat out and he stammered back. "What do you mean you don't need me anymore?!"

You buried your head in your covers, trying not to look at him. "I mean, I don't need you anymore, Zuko. I'm done."

"Done?! W-what do you mean done—did something happen?" you heard his footsteps come over to your side of the bed and you huffed.

He lifted the covers over your face and you had no choice but to look at him.

Zuko's eyes were a mixture of sadness and confusion and you chocked out a sob. He slowly brought his hands to your face, but you swatted it. Knowing exactly what to say to get him to leave, to leave you for good. "I can't be with a coward." Zuko stumbled back after this. You knew about his never-ending torment about betraying Iroh out of fear of his father. How he barely slept every night thinking about his uncle sitting in his cell, about how he was scared to do the right thing because he would lose his honor in his family again. "W-what?" Zuko was farther from you now, sad eyes staring into your like daggers. You were fighting the urge to break right there, tell him everything you knew about his father's warning, but you had to protect him. "You left Iroh to rot in a cell. You can't even stand up against your father and you're a disgrace to the Fire Nation. What kind of future is that?" You said coldly, biting your tongue to fight back the tears that were fighting to come out. "

"Do you really mean it?" His voice broke and you were dying to apologize to him, to tell him you thought he was so much more than what he thought of himself, that he was one of the few genuinely good people here, but you had to do this to protect him.

"Yes. I hate you, Zuko...I didn't realize it till now but...I'm embarrassed of you. Being with you...makes me hate myself too." You stated, face blank. Zuko's face dropped. You've never seen him like this, so empty, like he lost all the hope he had in the world. You wanted to reach out to him, you did...but he was gone before you could.

You'd see him in State events but never spoke, and the one time he had to greet you out of courtesy it was like he was talking to a stranger.

Now, here you are somewhere in the forest, looking for him. You heard from one of the guards who was loyal to you that combustion man was able to track Team Avatar near the mountains next to the refugee camps. He told you that he got his scent and was close by.

You heard voices and crouched by the bush. You saw a figure by the river and crawled closer to see who it was. It was a girl, probably your age dressed in blue who was doing laundry. This must be the water bender you thought. Mai and Ty Lee would tell you stories about their time chasing the Avatar and reuniting with Zuko.

Deciding to confront her and ask where Zuko was you began to walk towards her. Her shoulders tensed at the sound of footsteps behind. The girl whipped her head around and her eyes grew wide. Before you could speak, she was shooting water in your direction. "HEY!" You dodged, but she kept going. Grunting in frustration, you began shooting fire back at her.

You were fighting for a while now until suddenly, a boomerang was flying next to your head which caused you to duck.

There was a boy in blue running towards you with a smaller girl in green running next to him.

The girl stomped her foot on the ground and rocks in the shape of bars began to form around you but you were able to roll out of the way. The water bender was about to attack once more but then you heard your name being called behind you.

"Y/N?" You froze and your heart dropped. You haven't heard Zuko's voice in so long and you swore you almost crumbled right there. Slowly, you turned around and faced him for the first time in months. "W-what are you doing here?" he asked, and you couldn't answer. The Avatar arrived and the whole group was staring at you.

You couldn't speak. You didn't know what to say to him and time just stopped. Your eyes never left Zuko and he was staring right back at you.

"Who is she?!" The water bender asked as you and Zuko continued to look at each other.

"Y/N." Was all Zuko said which caused everyone to look at one another in confusion except the guy with the boomerang. "Oh...is she the one you were telling me about?" Zuko blushed in embarrassment but walked towards you.

"I'm sorry, I'm lost...who is she?" The Avatar asked.

"Zuko's ex-girlfriend." Boomerang guy attempted to whisper but failed as everyone heard him. The water bender stared at you curiously while the earth bender huffed and stuck up her nose.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" Zuko was in front of you now and your heartbeat was rising. You missed him. All you wanted was to kiss him right then and there, but you knew whatever you two had was over. Before you could reply, you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Zuko. The rest of the team was too busy waiting what would happen that they didn't notice combustion man's arrival.

Combustion man's eyes turned red and he smirked, the eye in the middle of his head started to glow and you knew he was about to attack.

"LOOK OUT!" You shouted and shoved Zuko to the side before Combustion man could strike.

The rest of the group were on the floor from the explosion except the Avatar who was on a tree.

"WHO IS THAT?!" Boomerang guy yelled above the explosion.

Looking down, you realized you fell on top of Zuko. Your eyes met his and you noticed his expression change to somewhat of realization. He looked like he was putting the pieces of a puzzle together while looking at you and he was frozen. Combustion Man tried to attack Zuko again but you pulled him away.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Boomerang guy yelled once more. Spotting the boomerang attached to his waist, you created a plan.

"AVATAR!" You yelled and he looked down at you from the tree. "Distract him!" He looked at you with confusion. You realized they didn't trust you yet, still being in your Fire Nation clothes, they still weren't sure what side you were on. "Come on! Do it!" You yelled and he nodded.

"BOOMERANG GUY!" You shouted once more and he looked at you in fear. "When the Avatar has him distracted, throw your boomerang at the eye on his forehead, it will block his chi."

"Why should I listen to you?! You were just attacking my sister!" he yelled back. "GOSH SOKKA JUST DO IT! THIS IS NOT THE TIME!" The earth bender yelled and Sokka jumped back in shock. "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!"

The Avatar shot an air ball at Combustion Man which caused him to stumble. While he was caught off guard, Sokka threw his boomerang hitting him directly on the eye.

Combustion Man grunted in pain but suddenly lost control and shot an explosion to the nearby mountain. Suddenly the rocks began to shake and immediately rolled down the mountain and crushed him.

The whole group sighed but Zuko was still looking at you. Suddenly, you felt rock squeeze around your wrists. Looking down, your wrists were bound in handcuffs made of rocks.

"Seriously?! I just saved your lives!" You yelled but the group continued to stare at you. "Yeah, but you were attacking Katara when we got here." The earth bender stated.

"SHE ATTACKED ME FIRST!" But they weren't having it. You looked at Zuko and his expression changed. He looked deep in thought as he stared back at you.

"Come on...just let me go and I'll be out of here." You whispered still looking at him. "We still don't know why you're here. You could be a spy." You rolled your eyes at the small girl.

"If I as a spy I would have let you all be killed by Combustion Man." You stated.

"That makes sense..." Katara nodded slowly but earth bender was still not having it.

"Still. It's risky to let you go, you're coming with us." She announced and began to walk away. Sokka grabbed your elbow and began to lead you behind her.

Zuko wasn't moving for a moment, watching the scene unfold like it was a movie. "Zuko...are you coming?" The Avatar asked. Zuko nodded slowly began to follow.

The earth bender, who you learned was called Toph made you a makeshift cell in their campsite. Rolling your eyes as you watched them enter their tents to go to bed, you sunk down and sat on the ground.

You started to drift off to sleep until you heard the door of your cell open. Slowly opening your eyes, you look up to see Zuko.

Your lips part in surprise as you slowly stand up to stare at him.

"What do you want?" You finally gained the courage to speak to him.

The Zuko in front of you is a different one than the one you left. The broken Zuko. The Zuko you hurt. Now, all you see are his golden eyes pouring into yours, mixed with anger and determination.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his tone was serious.

"Your friends put me in here! I don't wanna stay in this dumb cell—"

"No. Why are you here?!" He almost yelled at you, but he kept his voice low enough so he wouldn't wake the others.

"I don't know what you mean—"

"Bull Shit." Zuko interrupted but moved closer to you. "I don't know what you want me to say—"

"Do you still hate me?" His question caught you off guard. Unlike last time, there was no sadness in his voice, now, it felt like he was challenging you.

"Zuko—"

"Did you come here to protect me? I know you knew about Combustion Man." You looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. You didn't know why you were being so difficult. It wasn't like Ozai or Azula were here. But you felt immense guilt for what you said to him, you didn't deserve him.

"When you broke up with me...there was something else right? You were just saying all of those things to protect me?!" Zuko was angry. He had every right to be, for you to just show up here, and not even telling him the real reason why you came.

"I'm not stupid, alright? I know combustion man is an assassin under my father! I know he was here to kill me...and after everything, you show up out of nowhere...I know you were here for me!" He was yelling now but you refused to budge.

"You made me think all this time you hated me! I thought the person I loved the most in this world hated me! For months I couldn't get you out of my head and it was torture seeing you around the palace looking like you didn't care! And you won't even tell me the real reason why you're here?" You looked at him in shock but still refused to speak and he shouted in frustration.

"Y/N...tell me right now why you're here—"

"Yes. I still hate you." Was all you said. You didn't though. You loved him. You were so proud of him for finally standing up to his father and carving his own destiny, but you didn't want to cause him anymore pain. You wanted him to continue being the man he was meant to be...even without you. You felt like you would bring him down, that you didn't deserve Zuko. You wanted to leave, to finally leave him, for good.

"No you don't." His voice was hard and his eyes didn't leave yours. "Zuko, what do you want from me?" You asked and he sighed.

"Do you really hate me?" He asked once more but he took a step closer to you and you backed away.

"YES! God, Zuko I don't know how many times I have to tell you! I hate—"

Before you could finish, Zuko's lips were on yours. Your eyes widened in surprise but as soon as his arms snaked around your waist, you melted around him.

You missed this. The feeling of his lips on yours. His touch. The way he clung to you like his life depended on it.

"No you don't." Was all he said when he pulled away. You were out of breath, and you looked up at him. The hard expression he had was replaced with tender eyes and you felt tears forming.

"H-how'd you know?" Your voice cracked as Zuko began to gently wipe the tears on your face.

"Your eyes tell." Was all he said and before you could speak, his lips were on yours again.

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 5 years ago

Text

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London. However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor. Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas. Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother. Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off. Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there. Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world. Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever. They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother). Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition. Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating. Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other. However, their answers were always the same. Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more. Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything. Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest. His entire body glistens with water from the shower. Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat. Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes. Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times. The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times. But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child. Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror. She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did. Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up? Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman? Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach. Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago? That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed. Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before. She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child. She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did. Woke up a bit early, though. Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right. Brunch. They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before. Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked. I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No. You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love. It’s fine, promise. I don’t mind that you saw. I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes. There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone. The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night. Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted. There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London. Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together. You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through. Harry’s already on the plane. So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life. She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks. She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes. She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago. The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug. One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States. I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone. And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon. I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six. Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first. You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely. Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV. When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first. It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second. They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous. And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them. They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent. His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer? Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says. Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes. Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him. She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now. And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time. While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal. While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple. He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out. Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out. We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard. Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job. I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini. However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency. Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning. She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you. Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water. Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day. You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love. At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry. The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do. She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool. Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only. I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right. Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah. I’m not very good, though. Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha. High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly. To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now. I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N. That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core. Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone. She gets drunk fast and high faster. She’s always down for a laugh. And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah. Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly. She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face. Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that. Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul. Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her. He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall. Did you two ever…?”

“What? Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah. I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun. But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip. Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes. His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter. Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why. You usually tell me everything. You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright. I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater. Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it. Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No. I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall. She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her. Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done. The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry. Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers. He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders. Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless. The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other. But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again. Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly. It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout. His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face. His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later. It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone. Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface. There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon. Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth. She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah. They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing. He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah. Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk. They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know. I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face. Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching. I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching. It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass. You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge. He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that. If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair. She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping. The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else. He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching. Intimate touching. And…being touched intimately.”

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah. I miss that too. Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair. You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass. Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions. And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too. That’s always nice. I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H. Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control. Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah. I’m more like that, I think. I usually let someone else decide. But I like the in-between, too. Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah. I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you. Kind of like…a breathlessness. And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know. I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice. I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually. But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine. What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee. He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me. And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H. That’s good. That’s…brave. You’re not afraid of how you feel. Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth. She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position. His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks. His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university. We were together for two years. That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really? No one else? No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know. I didn’t love any of them. I was…infatuated. But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark. Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment. He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah. Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left. Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry. We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you. And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression. His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it. I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites. She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink. You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not. I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other. They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry. But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before? Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them. Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose. Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms. She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her. Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so. Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice. He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it. This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls. She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this. She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side. What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry. You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it. I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No. Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am! Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters. She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose. Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish. When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face. There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them. It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right? Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah. I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done. Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan. Not right now, at least. It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random. I want sex, but I want to be…intimate. Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No. It would be nice, but no. That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares. I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah. Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks. And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…? I mean…”

“I—yeah. I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that. We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild. If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged. His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly. His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions. However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this. Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly. His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch. His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah. Good. But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck. If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck. He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body. Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him. She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now. Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something. And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more. She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed. Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly. If anything, she thinks, it’s worse. She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was. She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love. Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch. Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others. She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore. She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles. She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish. He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm. Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance. His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed. His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own. Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose. Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm. Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath. He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach. His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once. She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body. When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones. She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair. She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular. Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching. She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts. Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him. However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know. I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah. It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you. I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves. Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day. I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking. I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you. And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do. I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends. This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless. You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods. She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away. Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement. Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation. This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate. Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top. His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before. Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time. Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark. She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side. Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again. This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure. With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious. His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that. Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction. Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them. Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence. She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep. Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple. He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger. The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth. He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad. Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed. Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top. When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there. In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes. She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair. She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down. Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair. She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry. Just relax, yeah? It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center. When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties. Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure. Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her. YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt. His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can. Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him. However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth. He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H. I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before. Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes. Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness. He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again. She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently. She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H. I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours. Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you. Feel your weight. Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between. He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them. He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between. I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling. A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before. Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete. He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up. While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her. This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her. Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer. As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her. As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop. Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible. Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication. Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language. When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being. When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge. He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you. Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her. He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again. He can’t think of anything else to say. He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her. She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance. It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are. Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one. The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm. Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring. And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom. Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes. Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed. He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again. She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know. Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later. His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H. Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry. Of course it’s Harry. It’s always been Harry. In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry. She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm. Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover. A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers. She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time. He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same. If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually. I made your drinks. And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No. I don’t. Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it. It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms. So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment. It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead. Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H. Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach. Not right now. And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N. I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out. Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl. You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always. Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades. Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost. I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll make it work. I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H. I do. I need you. I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this. I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No. It feels right. Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it. At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent. Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t. But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N. I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something. I’ve loved it. I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will. I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah. It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying! We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah. We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating? You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay. Nope. Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love. Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body. He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together. One less record for you.”

“Good. Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

#feedback is appreciated and use a condom kids #harry styles oneshot #bestfriend!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles preference #one direction imagine #one direction preference #one direction fic #one direction fanfiction #one direction #best friend!harry sty;es #watermelon sugar #watermelon sugar music video #fine line album

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Note

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

#matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg oneshot #mgg x reader

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stephspurs · 4 years ago

Text

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Wow - the response i received in a little under 24 hours since i posted the first taste of part 1 has truly bowled me over! I wasn't expecting that reaction & tbh i would have been happy if 2 people wanted to read this story hahaha! So, i've been writing in the background & the first few parts have already been proofed and are ready to go. HOWEVER! I am open to your suggestions so please please let me know what you think and how you want to see Amelia's story play out. As far as i'm concerned, this fic is as much yours as it is mine! So please enjoy this first part, in its entirety, and let me know your thoughts! Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 1 | prima parte

warnings; none - maybe a bit of angst? (what sibling rivalry doesn't have a bit of angst)

word count; 1978 words

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Sunday 25/07 5pm AEST. Updates will be twice weekly at this stage. Probably Wednesday’s and Sundays from next week!!

link to fic masterlist here

The world of football, no matter how big it may seem, is as tight as a close-knit family. Whether its management staff, senior players, scouts, academy players, business developers, medical team, groundskeeper - everyone knows someone who knows someone else involved in the sport. For Amelia White, it was a family affair.

Having grown up with her father as a senior tactical analyst for many different clubs throughout his career, and an older brother currently playing for Brighton in the Premier League, there was no opportunity for her to escape the fanaticism of the sport. It was what her household lived and breathed, football. Most would think that, with her brother being as successful as he is now, her childhood was shadowed by her brother's success but that's not the case. She capitalised on her ability to think both logically and creatively, and absorbed all of the information her father could give her as if she was a sponge, to establish a name of her own in the sport and advance her career in the sport. At the age of 21 she upped and left the comforts of her home in West London, accepted a position at Juventus within their graduate program & worked her way up the ranks to be their youngest tactical analyst by the age of 24.

So far in her career, the support of her mother, father & brother were unmatched by any. They were all so proud of her for making her own name, proving herself and succeeding in one of the most competitive football leagues in the world. She was smart, tactful, both meticulous and ruthless in her approach to her career and the success of her players. Because after all, they were her players. She worked day in and day out, studying them and their opponents, drafting performance plans and set pieces for every possible outcome of the play, so that they could perform at their best. They had her trust and faith, and she had theirs. This is probably what her family was most proud of, and wished her every success, until she was appointed as a tactical analyst for the Italian National Team for the upcoming Euro 2020 tournament. Which happened to be the same tournament that her brother had received his call up to the Three Lions. Which was the current level at which her father was a senior tactical analyst for the English National Team. The Euro 2020 Tournament was about to be a real family affair...

10 July 2021

It had been 2 months since she last had any contact with her family. 3 months ago, Amelia signed a contract with the Federcalcio, the governing body of football in Italy, to become the Azzurri’s tactical analyst for the foreseeable European Football Championship. In turn, her silky signature at the bottom of the agreement, also constituted a digital and physical contact ban with members of her family that were also involved with the tournament...her father and her brother.

At the time of the contract, and against her better judgement, Amelia hadn’t told her family of her opportunity. She knew her father would be proud, but her brother would be bitter. Her mother was switzerland, completely neutral and rooting for both of her children - but that's not how football works. No matter your role you have a job to do, and you do everything you can to make sure it is your team that lifts the trophy at the end of the tournament. So, on May 23rd her family congratulated her for another successful season at Juventus, and unbeknownst to them, said goodbye for the next 2 months. Until the day before the final match of the tournament, Italy v. England.

Her heart dropped when England won their semi final match against Denmark. She wanted nothing more than for her brother to be happy and for her father to succeed, but she didn’t want to have to go up against them in the final. Ultimately, she knew they were good, but she also knew that she could hold her own and compete with the best. Having a close relationship with her brother, up until this period, meant that she often paid attention to the premier league. This was a major benefit to her as she had already started analysing the azzurri’s opponents. It was her job to know what foot Raheem Sterling preferred to pass with, what direction Declan Rice preferred to take the ball up the field, what direction of receiving the ball did Harry Maguire struggle the most with. So that's how she spent the three days between matches, solidifying her knowledge of her opponents & predicting the plays her dad would be instructing the English team to complete, to attempt to outperform the Italians. However nothing would prepare her for the knock on her suite door, or for what was on the other side…

_____________________________________________________________

“Ciao Amelia, vieni con me per favore. abbiamo organizzato una visita supervisionata con tuo fratello prima della finale di domani sera. sorpresa!” (hi amelia, come with me please. we have arranged a supervised visit with your brother prior to the final tomorrow night. surprise!). I stood there in shock staring at one of my players & closest friends, Federico Bernardeschi. I was a person who didn't enjoy spontaneity, who thrived off of preparation and organisation. I needed the opportunity to overthink every situation so that I could prepare for every possible outcome. This was not my idea of a good time. Of course I missed my brother, but I know just how volatile he can be. Nevertheless, I grabbed my jacket and shoved my sneakers on before following Fede down the hall and into a blacked out van that was waiting to take me to St. George’s Park for my family reunion.

Upon arriving, and after a stern pep talk from Fede (who was my appointed supervisor for the visit - not sure I would say he was the most responsible choice but he did talk some sense into me) I walked into the main entrance and saw my father leaning against the reception desk waiting for me.

“Papa!!” I called as I walked over to him, ready to smother him with my love and affection. My father, Dean White, and I had as good of a relationship as possible, being that he was always heavily involved with my brother Ben’s footballing career as well as his own. I think when I came along, my father didn't know how to be a girl dad, so he took my mothers advice and just involved me like he would Ben. I was glad that I would be seeing him first, and he would be taking me to see my no-doubt pissed off brother.

“Dad, this is Fede, one of my players”

“Ciao Dean, it’s very nice to meet you but i am also her bodyguard for this evening” Fede introduced himself to my father and they exchanged pleasantries. I had a look around the foyer of the facility until I heard my name brought up in conversation.

“Amelia, come on. The boys are just over here. I don’t think you have long before heading back to your camp” My dad called to me. Boys? As in...more than just my brother?

“Hahaha that's funny dad, just show me to his room and we can have our screaming match there. Should only be about 20 or so minutes”

“Ben’s not in his room, we have a recreation room for the players and staff to lounge about and relax in. Pretty sure he’ll be in there. Come on, you’ve never been scared of your brother before. Why start now?” Before I knew it, Dad was leading us through some doors and into a large common area with bean bags, pool tables and couches - all occupied by current first team members of the English National Football team.

“Dean mate, don’t normally see you down here after 7pm. Oh look at that, someone let the trash in.” A loud mouthed player, that I used to adore as if he was my own brother, calls out as he notices us enter the room. And just like that, I shake off my nerves, stand in front of my taller & more argumentative bodyguard, relax my shoulders and stare into the eyes of Kyle Walker - daring him to challenge me and push me further.

“Relax Kyle, Benjamin White - your sister is here to see you.” Dad cut Kyle off. I didn’t need him to defend me against Kyle’s harsh comments, I could defend myself.

“Wow, I thought hell would freeze over before I got the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, I didn't realise hell would look quite like seeing you in that shade of blue.” My brother, Ben, spoke bitterly at me as he approached me from the other side of the room. This, coupled with Walker’s exclamation earlier, got the attention of the majority of the players scattered about.

“Ben, if you let me explain in private I'm sure you will be able to understand why things had to be this way” I tried to reason with him. Letting go of my always-defensive guard and pleading with my big brother to open his mind to see my side of the story.

“As if I would even talk to you right now, the night before the final, you’re probably here to try and get some insider information. Boys make sure you don’t say anything to her, she’s as sly as they come” Ben’s words were as sharp as a knife - but I knew what I had to say would cut him deeper.

“Ok that's enough! You are ridiculous! What did you expect me to do? Not take the job because you’re my brother? This is my career we are talking about here” I challenged him. “If you think for one second i stopped supporting you then you must be even more stupid than i thought. Of course this isn't the ideal situation, I'm proud of you for reaching a final but I'm just as proud of myself for doing the same thing.” I got progressively closer to my brother, who stood there with his hands beside himself, unable to get a word in.

“I came tonight to wish you good luck, to tell you I loved you, to give you a hug and tell you to stay safe and play smart. Whilst I still wish all of this for you, I now want you to know that I want you to play your best so I can be better than you. I can show you exactly how good at my job I am. I want you to know that no matter what way you play the ball, I'll be right there waiting for you. I am prepared for this, I hope you are too - so that it will feel that much more sweet when we beat you” I sneered at my older brother, who at this point, is quite visibly feeling a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

I take a step back, let out a breath and shake the tension from my shoulders. Breaking eye contact with my brother, I look briefly - yet confidently - at the other players in the room and take a step back. I turned to my dad, who was looking at me solemnly, as though he wasn’t happy with my outburst but understood it came from a place of frustration with my sibling. Walking up, giving him a kiss on the cheek and wishing him luck, I turned to look at Fede and began to walk to the door. This interaction with my brother, although supposed to be a nice moment shared between siblings, has only gone and motivated me to be at my best tomorrow, to prepare my players to go to war and to come out the other side victorious.

Part 2 | seconda parte

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skellebonez · 4 years ago

Note

The prompt you wrote with baby MK was extremely cute, but it also gave me an idea that wouldn't leave my brain: Imagine that same situation, but with Mei and Macaque. This is an open prompt, you can do with this whatever you like!

MK isn’t the only one who gets to have this kind of curse/ailment anymore! And I can’t resist putting this in the Cursed AU specifically, simply because I love the idea of this Macaque being confronted face first with the fact he actually cares. Even if it happens 200 times.

"What in the absolute hell are we supposed to do now?" Macaque groaned out, looking around the both of them for any indication of an escape that didn't involve him leaving Mei behind. Which was looking slimmer and slimmer if he didn’t want her to be in more physical danger than she already was. So. Stranded it was.

"I can still help!" Mei insisted, crossing her arms and standing her ground with a wide smirk. "I'm not powerless you know!"

"Never said you were, Jade," Macaque acknowledged instantly, tensing for a half moment when he realized how much he had to be attached to say something like that so fast. He forced himself to relax once again, no point in adding more fuel to the fire of worry that laid between them. "This just makes things complicated."

Oh yeah... complicated, that was one way to put it, definitely. If Macaque was being generous. And ignoring the fact that Mei wasn’t even 4 feet tall... and 4 years old. Physically.

Macaque was supposed to be on official mystic monkey business alone. Or at least that’s what he told Mei and MK to hopefully keep them out of his fur, but apparently Mei had other ideas. Like sneaking onto the private boat he had paid for to be taken to this secluded island far out into the ocean undetected, much farther than Mount Huaguo was. How she managed to sneak past security he may never know, now would he know how she managed to stay hidden for their 7 hour journey, and he would never admit that he was genuinely impressed.

He genuinely had not known she joined him until after the boat left, leaving them both stranded for at least the next 24 hours.

Horray.

Things had actually been going pretty ok, for the most part, after she had made herself known. In actuality Macaque was here to hunt down a specific item of his he had left behind on the island years ago, nothing really world shattering just... important to him. He knew that it would be safe here when he left it, the island as uninhabited and out of the way for humans to come to as it was.

But he also knew many powerful demons occasionally used this island as a hiding ground for when they were injured or planning something, against the owner’s wishes. And unfortunately one such demon just happened to be there on the one day of the while year he planned on coming.

That demon was deader than anything else on this island at the moment. Macaque hadn’t tried to kill him, not really, but they had lobbed something at him that Mei jumped in front of and he reacted on instinct.

If the thing had hit him in the first place they would probably be just fine. A decade and a half off his life span was nothing, unless it was set to a specific age in which... well, he was already able to do most of what he could do as a child so they still probably would have been ok. And hopefully she would be, if his memory served this particular demon was talented only in making temporary cursed and potions... mostly.

He hoped.

“Are you certain using your powers won’t hurt you?” Macaque asked, staring down at the short girl before him.

“I don’t think so?” Mei said with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve kinda had them for as long as I remember so... probably not.”

“Let’s not take that chance,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking around the beach. There was nothing for him to use, no emergency radio or boat. The best they had found on their entire search was a dinky little shelter. “It looks like our best bet would be to hunker down in that building and wait until mid day tomorrow for the boat to return. Provided there aren’t any more demons around we should be fine...”

“I can build a fire!” Mei proclaimed, running off before Macaque could even hope to catch her.

Something pulled in his chest, a protective thrum that he hadn’t felt since... since his journey with MK, but was becoming increasingly common the more time he spent training Mei. And he hadn’t felt that for so long he had forgotten what it felt like when it happened then, so unfamiliar with the desire to protect his old home and monkey friends of Mount Huaguo.

He would never admit even to himself that that feeling was “caring”. At least not yet.

“Jade, get back here!” Macaque yelled, moving to rush off after her before she came barreling back herself with armfuls of sticks and pine cones.

“I got everything we need!” She laughed and threw everything down in front of the building, looking around. “Did you see any rocks?”

“I know how to build a fire,” Macaque said softly, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “We probably don’t even need one.”

“Aw, but this is like a camping trip now!” Mei said, flailing her arms in the direction of the sticks. “I’ve even got marshmallows in my backpack!”

“Why did you bring m-never mind,” Macaque groaned, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. “OK. We’ll build a fire.”

It had gone better than hoped, actually. Macaque was able to start the fire with ease and Mei had apparently thought ahead enough that she’s brought the ingredients to make something called s’mores. Macaque had never seen them before, either they were new or they were a foreign treat, but MK had mentioned them to him on their journey and he had to admit... they were nice.

He just wished the gooey marshmallow didn’t stick to his fur so bad.

“And then MK did something that made the clone glow gold and explode into a bazillion pieces of hair!” Mei said, sweeping her arms out as she finisher her story. “And that’s how MK created and saved me from Porty Clone.”

“Sound like MK’s clones had quite the variety to them,” Macaque said with a smile. He’d relaxed over the evening, the normal sounds of the island confirming to him that it was just the two of them now and that at the very least they were safe from attack for the moment. “No wonder he’s careful not to overuse them.”

“Yeah, but Porty was pretty fun until he went overboard,” Mei replied, words cutting off with a yawn and a shiver as the wind picked up. “What time is it?”

Macaque looked up, watching the moon and the stars. “Late enough that it would be best to get some rest. We don’t want to miss the boat after all.”

“Hey, you only paid them half so they better come looking for you if you don’t show up!” She laughed out, making her way into the building as Macaque dumped sand on the fire to douse it. Just in case, don’t need the island catching fire with the wind. “ So uh... what are you going to tell them about... me?”

“That I came here looking for you,” he said plainly, shutting the door behind them. The moonlight shone through the windows of the shelter, giving them just enough light to see the one sad little cot it housed, right next to the massive stock of canned food they had also raided for dinner. He pulled the blanket on the cot back, grimacing at the dust on the blanket but satisfied with the condition of everything under it. He went outside to shake it out and make it usable again. “They know I was looking for something and that’s all they need to know.”

“What were you looking for anyway, Hot Topic?” Mei asked after a moment, watching Macaque make the bed again. “And how do you... know about this place?”

“... it’s mine, actually,” he said quietly, looking around the sad shelter. Unfurnished, cold and empty, with only the island itself and non-perishable food for survival. “I haven’t been back in a long time and most know to stay away, but sometimes demons don’t care. I was looking for something... unimportant.”

“It must have been important if you came all this way to find it,” Mei said, yawning again and rubbing her eyes.

“Ok, that’s enough of that!” Macaque exclaimed, hoping his glamor was hiding the embarrassed flush of his ears at her accusation. “Time for sleep!”

Without giving her a second to protest Macaque grabbed her around the waist with his tail and deposited her under the now clean enough blanket before forcibly tucking her in.

“Hey!” She protested, scowling at him once her arms were free. “I can’t sleep yet!”

“Why not?” Macaque chanced, wondering if he was going to regret this.

“You never told me a story.”

“... huh?”

“At the camp fire!” Mei insisted, leaning over the bed to grab her backpack and hold it to herself like it was a stuffed animal (which wasn’t hard since it was... basically a hollow stuffed dragon anyway). “I told you a bunch of stories about me and MK and Piggy and Tangy and Sandy and you didn’t tell me anything about you and the Monkey King! So spill one, I’m not going to sleep until you do!”

Macaque wanted to say no, wanted to glare at Mei until she just went to sleep through sheer exhaustion, wanted to walk out of the building and just stand guard at the door instead... but he kept looking into her teeny tiny 4 year old glower and he couldn’t help but sigh in defeat.

“Fine...” He said after a moment, moving to sit at the head of the bed. He watched as Mei smiled widely, making herself comfortable. “Let’s see... where should we begin... How about the time Wukong thought it would be a good idea to challenge the whole island to 1 on 1 combat for the title of king because he was bored, long before his proper training?”

“That sounds like him,” Mei said, smiling into her backpack with another yawn as she closed her eyes. “Yeah... tell that one.”

“OK, so this was only a little while after he jumped through the waterfall...”

And Macaque went on and on, giving much more detail than necessary, watching as Mei slowly relaxed until she eventually nodded off before the story even got close to the ending.

Which was... probably good for Macaque, to be honest.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the item he had come here to find. It was simple, all things considered. A little carved crown, made from wood and preserved carefully through the years, far too small for his head and more of a bracelet. Wukong had made it for him when their own duel, the final one of the whole island, ended in a draw all those centuries ago. A show of how they could, maybe, rule the mountain together one day. He’d left it here so long ago that he worried it would have been destroyed or fallen apart over time.

Apparently Wukong knew a little something about what he was doing back then after all.

Macaque smiled, slipping it back into his pocket as he slid off the bed to sit against it, all six ears fluttering out to listen to the island around them. Just in case.

Mei slept mostly soundly behind him and if she started to whine in the beginnings of a nightmare and he turned around to soothe her and whisper that he was there and she was alright well... that would be something to talk about if she remembered it.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #deage fic #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #cursed au #dad macaque #i couldn't help adding in a little idea i had with him and wukong at the end #since this is pretty much non-canon to the au anyway

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emerald-chaos · 4 years ago

Text

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

273 notes · View notes

deadfloweremojii · 4 years ago

Text

Every Morning Felt the Same

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Slight Yuki x F!Reader

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: Angst

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: akito being akito

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 3884

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

I wrote this a while ago and I had no idea how long it was until now! After starting the final season I came back to it and spiffed it up a little and well... here it is!

Feel free to send requests!

Fic below the cut

I was walking to school as I normally do; listening to music. Left turn, right turn, wait at the light. Every morning felt the same. However ever since the beginning of this year I have started coming out of my shell. As unapproachable the girls have made Yuki Sohma we have somehow become rather good friends. It was awkward at first but I’ve gotten used to the staring from the “Prince Yuki Fan Club” garbage. It wasn’t as if I liked him, we were just close friends. I have gotten to know him and his friends over the last few months. Yuki and his cousin Kyo have a very interesting dynamic to say the least. It seems as if they are cat and mouse, but the mouse always outsmarts the cat.

It was finally time to go home; I could be considered lucky in that regard. I am an exchange student. I have my own student apartment that the school pays for me to live in. It can get fairly lonely on the weekends or during breaks. I’m fairly introverted and only really talk to Yuki and Co. during the school day. My japanese can be pretty rough at times, but I understand enough to get by. With winter break coming up I was preparing to celebrate New Years by myself like I have the past few years. It’s just not worth it to go home for the holidays; the break is too short to make the price tag worth it. I almost have grown to love being by myself; after a long day at school the silence is calming.

My normal path home is fairly straightforward, but the idea of the upcoming holiday clouded my mind. I had somehow ended up walking past my usual turn without realizing and continued on into the forest on the outskirts of the town. A cold gust of air brought me out of my trance; I looked around wildly unfamiliar with my surroundings. As I turned on my heels to go back the way I came; to my utter disbelief a white snake blocked my path.

Now I didn’t hate snakes, but I admired them from afar or held well handled pets. Very unlike any snake, or wild animal, I’ve ever seen it slithered up to me. I didn’t want to startle it, on the off chance it’s hungry so I stood as still as possible gripping my school bag against my chest. A cool scaly feeling enveloped my calf, as the snake slithered up it. I gripped my eyes shut, praying it just went away after realizing I was not edible. Then it dawned on me, it was below freezing, and snakes are cold blooded… and I’m warm blooded… NOW I'M A SPACE HEATER FOR A SNAKE!

I couldn’t help the yelp that escaped my lips as I felt the snake take refuge under my shirt. Whether it be divine intervention or my (un)lucky day a man came walking toward me on the frozen path. He was dressed in a simple yukata with shaggy black hair. He looked at me calmly and then to my… chest? HE’S LOOKING AT MY BOOBS! I looked down as I saw a little snake head pop up. He’s looking at the snake… Why is the snake looking back at him?

“I see you got yourself into a situation” the man laughed. He didn’t seem to be speaking to me, but almost to the snake?

“Yes, uh… please help” I whispered. I didn’t want to bother the snake for fear of it biting me. In my awkward fear I happened to answer in english instead of japanese. The man tilted his head, and I just assumed he didn’t understand me. I opened my mouth to repeat myself, but he cut me off.

“You’re y/n, right?” He said back in perfect english. “Yuki’s friend from school”. He talks about me?

“Yes, sir.” I said. “Is there any way you can help me? I switched the conversation back to japanese. It always felt rude to make someone accommodate me, even if I wasn't the best speaker.

“Come down the road to the house with me. I can help you better there” He chuckled. “And don’t worry about how you speak. Do what is most comfortable.”

We trotted along the path rather slowly, I did not want the snake to fall or worse. It was only a couple minutes. We exchanged pleasantries. The man was Shigure-san Yuki and Kyo’s uncle who they lived with. From my time being friends with them I’ve only really heard Tohru mention him a few times. I never really hear the boys talk about their family, it seems to be a touchy subject.

We finally arrived at the house. It was pretty nice considering it was in the middle of the woods. As we got inside the snake slithered down my leg and decided that the house was his now. I relaxed my tense muscles. I guess I didn’t have to stay very long. I looked around, still standing in the entryway. I noticed Kyo sitting at the low table and I smiled politely at him. He looked up when he heard the commotion.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, shocked. It seems visitors are not abundant here. “What did you do to her?!” he yelled at Shigure-san.

“Nothing! Why would I do anything to one of Yuki’s beloved friends?” Shigure shrugged off.

“Oh, um there was a snake…” I started. Yuki had just entered the room. He looked up when he heard the word snake.

“A snake here is it now, y/n-san?” he looked around… angrily? “What did it look like?” He blurted. I wasn’t very used to Yuki not being calm and collected. This was definitely a change of pace for him. I guess he really doesn’t like snakes. As I was about to open my mouth to answer, another boisterous man with long silver hair burst into the room

“Yuki-kun! Have you missed me? I wanted to come visit you but it was so cold! Without this fine lady I would have never made it” he swoons. The man walked over to me and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the house, my shoes left in the entryway.

“Aw sweet, y/n-chan” He started, bringing my hand up to his mouth to kiss it. “Thank you so much for your kind nature! Without you I would surely have been left for dead”

Dead? I thought. I don’t recognize him, he kind of looks like Yuki. I don’t think I’ve ever met him. How does he know my name? The only thing I carried here was…

“The snake.” I whispered. I looked up to see familiar yellow orbs. “You… you were the s..snake” I stammered. “How is that even possible, humans can’t be snakes, snakes are snakes” I gripped my hair in my hands as I thought how this could ever be possible.

“My sweet love, don’t grip your beautiful hair” he said as he went to grab my hands. Both Yuki and Kyo shoved themselves between me and the strange man.

“Don’t touch her” Yuki said sternly. He shoved me behind him. I lost my balance and fell into his back. I heard a pop and a cloud of smoke appeared as I fell into nothing. In front of me was a little silver… rat?

“What?” I gasped. At this point I just assumed I was dreaming. “Are you supposed to be Yuki-kun now? I guess you are kind of cute.” I whispered as I scooped up the little thing. Kyo turned to Shigure- san.

“Look what you caused?” He yelled. “And you” he turned to the other man. “What the hell were you thinking?!” Shigure sighed. Looking at the man with his hand scratching his head.

“Well Ayame, I guess we got into an even worse situation” He laughs.

…..

“A curse?” I whisper. The Sohma’s had explained everything to me. I finally now realize more than I did before. Why Yuki was so shy, how Tohru acted when I talked about their home life. Why Kyo always seemed on edge. All of this bewildered me.

“So now what?” I asked shyly. “I promise I won’t say anything to anyone of course! I… I just don’t really know what to say” I looked down into my lap.

“Time to call Hatori I guess,” Shigure-san said as he stood up. Everyone had a solemn look on their face.

“Who is that?” I asked slightly afraid. “Am… am I going to die?” I looked up nervously into Shigure-sans eyes as mine began to water. “I… I promise, please” Tears begin to fall down my cheeks. Tohru, who had come home in the middle of this, offered me a tissue.

“Of course not y/n-chan” He said looking down seriously. “We just can’t have people knowing is all.” Ayame-san caressed my face and wiped away my tears.

“Do not worry, not a pretty little hair on your head will be harmed” He whispered to me. Yuki snatched me away from him.

“This is your fault to begin with.” Yuki said sternly. “Without your whole scheme we would have never been in this mess” This continues on for a while, Yuki being mad at what I now learned is his older brother, and Ayame begging Yuki to forgive him while still being a strange sort of arrogant. I just sat with Tohru, watching the whole thing unfold. Kyo had gone out shortly after this began, Tohru mentioned a Sensei so I assume it was martial art practice of some sort. Ayame-san turned to me and Tohru.

“I have an excellent idea” He sang out, almost twirling over to the two of us. “If we pretend to be together, there is a chance it will be okay!”

“T...Together? What do you mean by that?” I looked up at him, my eyes still a little puffy from before. “Like dating?” Shigure-san just walked back into the room as those words left my mouth.

“Who are you dating now? Ayame? So scandalous!” He wiggled. Yuki facepalmed, fed up with everything.

“You can’t think that’s possibly a good idea.” Yuki sighed. “First of all, I don’t want you anywhere near her, and second you’re almost twice her age. That would never work”

“An apprentice with benefits then!” Ayame hoisted me up and twirled me around. His arm wrapped around my shoulder but not enough to where our bodies were touching. His hand picked my chin up to look at him.

“Look at those sad e/c eyes.” he sighed. “You need some excitement in your life” He whispered in my ear. Yuki pulled me away from his clutches and looked into my eyes.

“Don’t listen to him.” He warned. His eyes were filled with pain. I wondered if this had happened to him before. Tohru seemed to know and be fine, so why couldn't I?

“I don’t want to lose my friends” My eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know what to do, I don't want to hurt you or your family, and I don’t want to lose you” I sob. I couldn't think straight enough to worry about japanese or anything for that matter. “I’ll do anything to just not be alone again”

The room was silent apart from my sniffling. The mood shifted to a depressing tone. Reality had sunk in. The Shomas realized either they try this or let this girl forget. I looked up over everyone.

“I’ll try anything”

…..

Over the last month going to work with Ayame-san was almost tiring. Although he seemed like an airhead, there is definitely something going on in his head that I just can’t guess. I assume it comes with his whole family dynamic. Although I was supposed to be his assistant, I feel like he was holding out for the whole “pretending to be dating” thing. Thank god he couldn’t touch me without becoming a snake; although that did happen a few times. Ayame-san as often as he could would be sure to “teach me” and “guide me” to what I needed to do. Mine-san seemed to keep him in check when we were in the studio, but when we had to run errands it was definitely towing the line.

Yuki always asked if I was okay first thing every morning before homeroom, and walked me home after I was done with Ayame-san every night. I assured him everything was fine. I didn’t want to lose my friends. It wasn’t that bad, it could be annoying at times but I feel like I learned a lot about myself and how to sew; so that's a plus.

One particular night after my apprenticeship, Mine-san pulled me aside. “y/n-chan, you’re doing really well. Most girls would have run for the hills by now!” she laughed. “You’ve gone from this shy little thing, to a young woman who can hold her own!”

“y/n-Chan!” rang out a familiar sing-song voice. Ayame-san waltzed out of the studio. “Do you think you can do me a favor?!” He sang out.

“I guess it depends on what it is exactly, Ayame-san.” I huff looking down the road seeing Yuki walking towards us.

“Well, I’ve been called to the estate. I was wondering if you would like to join me. Shigure said I should bring you!” He grabbed onto my arm and gave me puppy dog eyes. “You can meet Hatori!” Ayame chirped.

“Well I guess I can. If you really want me too” I said as Yuki neared closer. “I'll see you tomorrow then Ayame-san.” I called out as I ran towards Yuki.

“What was that about?” Yuki questioned as we walked towards my apartment. I hopped onto a small wall lining the sidewalk. With my arms out for balance I continued in front of him, spinning on the balls of my feet and walking backwards while facing him.

“He invited me to the estate with him and Shigure-san.” I replied, stopping in my tracks. “I said I would go.” I looked down at him nervously.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea y/n-san?” He looked up at me. He looked rather worried. I was starting to think that saying yes may not have been my brightest idea.

…..

The Saturday morning sun crept into my apartment window. I knew today was going to be… interesting. Shigure-san was nice enough to let me come over in the morning to figure everything out. Ayame-san told me he would have something for me to wear for dinner. Seeing his tastes in clothing it probably was not going to be fun.

When I arrived at the house, it was as rambunctious as always. Yuki and Kyo were lost in one of their usual arguments. They didn’t notice that I entered the house. Shigure-san looked up from his paper and smiled in my direction.

“Good morning, y/n-chan.” he chimed. The two boys looked over in the midst of fighting. I’ve seen them argue but I’ve never seen them fight. Both boys were breathing heavily; sweat rolling down their foreheads. This was rather surprising, Yuki is normally so calm, and collected. Over the past month I’ve learned more about him and my friends. Spending more time with him has made our friendship stronger. Although, it seems to be different now. Yuki has expressed his distrust of his brother. He has even started walking me to the shop, and even to school since my apartment is on the way. I’ve enjoyed spending more time with him… almost more than before. I shook my head at this thought.

“Is everything okay?” He asks endearingly, giving me a smirk. “Ready for your date with Ayame-san?” I blushed bright red at that comment.

“Uh… well… I didn’t think of it that way” I stammered. I brought my hand up to the back of my head, rubbing it sheepishly. Yuki snapped his head over to Shigure-san.

“No way, is that what he thinks is going to work” He seethed. “She never would have agreed to that if those were the terms. Isn't that right y/n-san?” Yuki looked at you sincerely.

“Well I… I wasn’t aware of that. I just assumed it was to meet Hatori-san” I looked down at my feet.

“Don’t worry kids” Shigure-san said as he resumed his paper “It’s just a ploy to allow y/n-chan to the Sohma estate.”

“So I have to pretend I’m dating Ayame-san in order to go?” I looked at Shigure. “Why did no one tell me” I huffed. He looked up at me and smiled.

“Because you wouldn’t have agreed otherwise”

…..

After a “fun” day at the Sohma house it was finally time. Ayame-san arrived with a bag with my name on it to wear. I looked inside; it looked like the pieces of a kimono. I looked up at him.

“I’ve never worn one before… I’m not sure how” I said shyly. Ayame-san snaked an arm around my shoulders.

“That’s okay my love, I can help you put it on for you.” he said coyly. Shigure-san also stood up. “What about me?” he added. Yuki came to my side and took my hand. He dragged you away from the men and up the stairs.

“Or I guess he could.” Shigure-san said defeatedly.

I have never been upstairs in the house before. It wasn't anything special, just everyone's rooms. Yuki still hasn’t said anything as he basically dragged me to his...room. I’m in his room. Those “Prince Yuki” bitches would pay thousands to be in my shoes right now.

“You can change here if you want.” He said shyly. Yuki looked away and blushed. “Tohru isn’t here, otherwise you’d be in her room.”

“I… I don’t know how to put it on” I stammered. “I need help” I looked down at my feet. Yuki took his hand under my chin and pointed it up. His gray eyes looking into my e/c ones.

“I’ll try my best.” He smiled. “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed, Ayame should have known better. It was definitely one of his tricks.”

Yuki left the room to allow me to get the under clothes on. Once I was done I let him back in. The kimono almost felt like a large sweater. The material was soft and airy. Yuki with his cheeks dusted red, reached around me to gather the material in the way it needed to be. He tied a sort of belt near my waist to gather the fabric. It was not as difficult as I thought it would have been, but I would not have been able to do it correctly myself.

“Thank you, Yuki-san” I said as I pinned my hair up. I looked over at him and smiled brightly.

“Anytime y/n-san” he smiled back blush still sprinkling his cheeks.

…..

The Shoma Estate was huge. I felt like a small child as we approached. Shigure and Ayame walked in front of me, laughing about something or other. My nerves were boiling up, Kyo mentioned how intimidating it can be, especially if you looked out of place. Shigure-san looked back at me and noticed I was staring at the ground. He nudged Ayame-san's arm and pointed back at me. He twirled around towards me and latched onto my arm.

“You’re my date! You should at least look happy” He sang out. I looked around to see some women walking, giving me a disapproving glare.

“I guess I’m just nervous” I squeak. “This place is kind of intimidating” Shigure-san fell into step with us.

“Don’t worry y/n-chan” Shigure-san said “Everything will be alright in the end” He smiled. We arrived at the place we were supposed to meet. It was such a large house. I don’t think I’ve seen one this large since moving from the states. Once we entered, a man greeted us in the entryway.

“Ah Hatori!” Ayame-san said. “How are you! I’ve missed you!” he cried out as he went to hug him. Hatori side stepped and Ayame fell to the floor.

“I assume you’re y/n-chan” Hatori-san said to me.

“Yes, sir” I replied with a bow. Hatori shuffled us into the house and into a traditional dining room. Ayame-san and I sat down together. Hatori stopped Shigure in the doorway.

“Shigure, do you really think this is okay?” Hatori whispered.

“I sure hope so.” He replied.

…..

Dinner went well. It was just the four of us. I was so worried that there was going to be a huge amount of people. I’m so glad there wasn’t. The three men had been drinking, however Hatori-san seemed to be the only one with any sense left. Shigure and Ayame were being as loud as ever, saying risque things towards me.

As we were getting ready to leave, I heard a crash through the house. The sliding door was slammed open and a thin figure was hanging on to the door frame. Hatori immediately jumped to his feet and walked over to the person. The light in the hallway was off so it was hard to see. Shigure-san almost seemed to sober up as this was happening and got up and walked into the other room.

“Let me see her.” the person said as they clawed at the door frame. It looked like they could barely stand. Their robe falling off their shoulder allowed me to see just how thin they were. I shuffled back on the floor only stopping when I hit the wall.

“Let me see her.” they said again menacingly. Hatori-san looked over to me, there was pain in his eyes. I understood he couldn’t do much to stop them.

My heart raced as they came over. They grabbed my face leaving nail marks on my cheeks. My eyes started to water. I had no idea what was going on let alone what to do.

“What’s your name?” they seethed

“y/n” I squealed out meekly.

“You know they don’t like you. They never will. You should just stop trying” they dropped my face and I fell to my knees. I couldn’t stop the tears. Yuki burst through the door and looked on in horror.

“You’re right.” I whispered. Their words resonated with me. I wasn’t part of their world. They had so much more on their plate with Tohru already. They don’t need to worry about me. The person said something to Hatori that I didn’t understand and left the room. Yuki looked at me with tears in his eyes as he crouched in front of me. My tears fell like waterfalls as I cried into my hands.

“I’m so sorry, y/n-san. You should have never been a part of this,” he whispered as he grabbed my hands. “I really did like you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I’ll never forget you” he kissed my forehead.

Hatori helped me get to my feet and brought me into another room. I closed my eyes as I wiped the tears away.

…..

I was walking to school as I normally do; listening to music. Left turn, right turn, wait at the light. Every morning felt the same.

#fruits basket #fruits basket the final #fruits basket angst #yuki sohma #kyo sohma #yuki x reader #yuki angst #momiji sohma #tohru honda #fruits basket 2019 #akito sohma #furuba

149 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

Messed up

*gif is not mine*

Kinktober day 5 - face sitting

Note - This is a sequel to past self. But can be read as a stand alone as well I think. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Summary - Steve messed up and he's determined to make it upto you.

Warnings - 18+ only please, smut (m/f), daddy kink, age gap.

Pairing - Nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 3.4k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

“No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

You weren’t used to being told no, at least not after you used your secret weapon, if he was anything like his best pal it has to work. Blinking and fluttering your lashes you broke out your Disney princess eyes, “Buck buck, please let me braid your hair,” you cooed.

He stared at you, his lips pressed in a thin line, “Fine,” he sighed finally, giving in.

You squealed, running off to your bedroom to get a brush.

“I remember I used to braid my friends hair at sleepovers, it was such fun,” you said, dividing a strand of his hair in three parts, one over the other, “Before I got my powers anyway, after that they’d all just be scared of me...” you trailed off.

“Steve’s excited to see you,” he told you after a beat of silence.

He had only been living with you for a week or so, it was surprising how close he already felt to you. You had a certain vulnerability that made him want to protect you. That and it was obvious how far gone Steve was for you. You were down so he had to say something to cheer you up.

“Wait what?” your hands stopped, “He’s coming here?”

“Yeah, he left yesterday. Should be here this evening. He wanted it to be a surprise.”

You took a sharp breath, remembering how he had so cruelly rejected you and sent you off to Wakanda just so he wouldn’t have to deal with you.

He abandoned you.

“I don’t want to meet him. I’ll stay over at Shuri’s, she wanted to have a girls night anyway,” you grumbled.

After you had gushed your love for them, baking brownies in your jammies and talking about boys while watching chick flicks, she seemed curious and fascinated, wanting to try one with you.

He hummed at that. He knew something had went down between the two of you, Steve said so himself, ‘I have a lot to make up for.’ He was curious as to how his clueless friend had messed up, but it wasn’t his place to ask.

Which is why he brought Steve to the cottage he shared with you. Listening to him talking about all the missions in Europe and Russia, how he was excited to see you, how he had missed him terribly. Bucky told him he spends his time taking care of his new goat and his beautiful cat. They often keep him occupied.

“Y/N said that I’m ‘totally a cat person’,” his lips curling up at how you had helped him pick a name for her.

“Hm, that’s true. Are you... you live with her... are you two close?” Steve stumbled over his words, his jaw clenching as he stared his dear friend down. He was more than happy to see him, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the thought of you getting too cosy with him.

“In a way,” he smirked. “She’s a bit upset with you, just a heads up.”

“Yeah, I know, I deserve it,” he hung his head.

His palms shaky as they both entered the small cottage, going over what he would say to you. You were sitting on the couch in the, your feet propped up on it as you flipped through a magazine.

“You’re home early,” you smiled as you looked up at him. Your sweet smile turning into a frown when you saw him.

“Hey there, doll,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

You slapped the magazine on the couch, standing to your feet, your arms over your chest. “Captain,” you spat

His heart ached at that. He knew you were upset but to have you be so hostile to him, he didn’t know if he could take it.

He could easy handle being tortured by hydra agents but not this.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Bucky interrupted you both before taking off to find his cat, who knew where Alpine had wandered off to this time.

You both stood awkwardly, a few feet away from each other while you looked anywhere but his eyes, refusing to even look at him.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Fine, I guess,” you mumbled, finally looking up, “as fine as I can be after being shrugged off like yesterday’s news.”

“Honey,” he took a step towards you but then stopped in his tracks when you backed away. “I’m sorry, I made a terrible mistake. I.. just couldn’t deal with my feelings, I thought I’d be taking advantage of you.”

You scoffed, “Taking advantage of me? Really? I’m not a child! I can decide for myself what’s good for me and what’s not.”

“I know that now. But... you’re so young and I’m supposed to be looking out for you and helping you,” he tried to reason with you while you shook your head in disbelief.

“Right, because you’re Captain America. Everyone should just do whatever you say. You always know what’s best, unlike us mere mortals,” you rolled your eyes.

He was in front of you in just two long strides, his brows furrowed and his patience running thin. “I’m not Captain America anymore,” he reminded you as he inhaled your soothing scent.

“You’ll always be Captain America he’s a part of you. And I’ll... never be good enough for you.” You stared at the henley stretched out over his broad chest, willing yourself to resist the urge to hug him. Him standing so close to you, you could inhale his unique scent you had grown to love so much.

“What?” he frowned. “Where did you get that idea?” It was absolutely ludicrous. He would have to pay a visit to whoever it was that said that to you.

“It’s the truth... that’s why you don’t want me. And I don’t blame you.” Why would someone like him be interested in you anyway.

“Doll,” he cupped your cheeks, tilting you’d head up to make you look at him, “I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you. I mean look at me.”

You arched a brow, giving him a once over before looking at his blue orbs again, his strong jaw covered in a thick beard, long locks that feel so silky in your hands, “You look like you belong on the cover of GQ, and before you have to ask, I’ll spell it out for you, since you’re like a thousand years old - GQs a magazine with pretty people on it.”

“I didn’t always look like this. I used to be very small, smaller than you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled. “I’ve seen pictures, you were adorable.”

“Would you believe me if I told you a secret?”

“Yeah...” you’d believe him if he told you the sky was falling. Steve never lied.

“I love you,” he confessed as your jaw dropped, “I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. And I might not deserve you but if you consider me worthy of you, then I’d... like to have you.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “Wh - really? Nobody’s ever said that to me,” you blinked as tears started welling up in your eyes.

“I love you more than life itself. And I have a feeling that we will end up together,” he grinned.

“Well, don’t get too cocky now, I haven’t said yes yet,” you slapped his chest.

He grazed his fingers over your knuckles before holding your smaller hand in his, “So? What do you think?”

“I think... if you hurt me again I’ll punch you so hard. And my punches are much better now, thanks to Bucky, he’s been teaching me lots of stuff.”

“Never,” he shook his head, “I’d never hurt you. You’re so precious,” he kissed your knuckles.

“And you’d never leave me again,” you wanted it to be a fierce demand but your pout made it more of a needy request.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again. We’re partners. Captain America is gone. It’s just you and me now,” he promised.

You blinked your tears away, standing on your tippy toes to place a lingering kiss to his soft plump lips.

Smiling as you pulled away, you grabbed his hand, leading him to your bedroom.

“Where are we going, doll?” he chuckled, holding onto your hips and pulling your back against his chest, attacking your neck with a flurry of kisses, unable to keep his hands off of you for even a moment.

Your squirmed in his hold, “To the bedroom. Just in case Bucky comes back,” you let out a giggle when he blew a raspberry in the crook of your neck, which then quickly turned into a moan as he sucked a mark on it.

Somehow, you managed to drag him to your small bedroom, if he had his way you’d have fucked in the hallway.

Straddling his lap on your twin bed, which looked much smaller now, what with a super soldier on top of it.

Kissing him deeply, you pulled away, breathless but only to say, “I love you, too, this is just too good to be true,” you heaved.

“A lot of unbelievable things have been happening to me lately,” he pulled you back, groaning into your mouth as you rolled your hips against his crotch. Looking at you sternly, “Doll,” he warned you.

“Please,” you whined, humping his growing erection through his jeans and your thin shorts, you could feel your panties getting wet with your arousal. “I want you, so bad,” you kept rolling your hips till he stopped you by digging his fingers in them.

“This is not how it’s done... I’m supposed to take you out on dates and buy you flowers and chocolates - ” he choked on a moan as you palmed him through his pants.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he gritted, snaking his fingers in your short shorts, he brushed his fingers over your weeping folds. “You want me?” he asked as you desperately nodded your head. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

You gulped, looking into his eyes and opening your mouth to answer him, his intense gaze intimidating you as you hid your face in his neck, “You know...”

“What?” he asked again, “I’m like over a thousand years old, I’m rusty, you have to tell me,” he teased you, swirling your juices around on your soft petals.

He wasn’t rusty. He had been with 'you' just a week ago, only it wasn’t you. This would be your first time with him but not his with you. It was still strange, he couldn’t really wrap his head around it or bring himself to care.

“I want you... to.. to make love to me,” you said.

“You know I would never say no to you, sweetheart,” he kissed your hair, retracting his hand from your shorts he sucks your juices off his fingers, you taste the same.

You helped him as he rolled your shorts and your panties down your legs, pulling your tank top up and tossing it away. You fumbled, making yourself small and covering yourself up with your arms. But he wasn’t having any of it, he pinned your hands behind your back, latching onto your nipple.

“I’m...,” you gasped as he bit your hardened bud, bunching his henley up in your hand, “you’re wearing too making clothes,” you complained.

“Then why don’t you help me take them off, doll?”

Your eager hands pulled him out his pesky clothes, hiding his magnificent physique from you. You had seen him shirtless a handful of times, while dressing his wounds, but you always stared at him in awe. He did look like he was made in a laboratory.

You knelt before him, between his legs, eager to find out if he tastes as good as he looks.

He tried to stop you but you swatted his hands away, “You’ll hurt your knees, doll,” he reasoned.

You snorted, wrapping your hand around his thick girth, “I thought we were partners. I won’t have you treat me like I’m some damsel in distress again.”

He pouted, pulling at your kiss swollen bottom lip with his thumb, “That’s too bad because I’m always going to take care of you, especially now that I’m your man.”

You rolled your eyes, he really was getting ahead of himself, he’ll have to do a lot more to prove himself before you accept him as ‘your man’.

But you decide to let that go for now, instead focusing on his cock glistening with precum, peaking your tongue out to taste some of it and swirling your tongue around on his bulbous head.

“Don’t tease, doll,” he groaned, holding onto the back of your head, not really pushing but to urge you to take more of him because he was at the end of his rope, feeling as if he’d burst right there.

You pushed away at his hand, “I’m in control,” you stated, “no touching till I say so. Is that understood?”

He didn’t care, he just wanted you to stop your cruelty and put your mouth on him so he simply nodded, not knowing if he could actually keep the promise.

With a victorious smile you wrapped your mouth around his head, leisurely sucking on it, moaning at the taste of him before taking in as much as you could, pumping the rest of his length, fondling his balls with the other hand.

He was about to touch your perky breasts, but then remembered your ridiculous ‘no touching' rule so he ran a hand through his head hair, wiping the sheen of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

“God that mouth of yours,” he growled when you pulled him out with a loud ‘pop’.

A string of saliva connecting your lips to him, “I want you to come in my mouth,” you instructed.

“You want to swallow daddys cum?” he couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the incredulous look on his face.

“Who would’ve known... Steven 'golden boy’ Rogers, of all people...” you shook your head, a small smile on your face as you thought about the times you had called him that in your head while rubbing one out to the thought of him.

You pressed your lips to the vein on the underside of his cock, sucking on it, “You’re going to come in my mouth, daddy, and stay there until I swallow all of it,” you told him, if only to remind him that you were in control, even if he ‘convinced' you to call him that.

You lightly scraped your teeth over his length before swallowing around him, gagging a bit as you tried to take more of him, but it seemed impossible to fit him whole no matter how hard your tried.

“I’ll try,” he teased, releasing a shaky exhale, his balls tightening in your palm as he held onto the sheets, painting the back of your throat with ropes of his spend.

You swallowed all of him, suckling on his length till you felt him softening in your mouth, you opened your mouth to show him, “Told you I’d swallow it all,” you licked your lips, just in case you missed anything.

“You’re such a good girl.” He praised, cupping your head and leaning down to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. Easily picking you up and flipping you so that you were on your back, he spread your thighs, licking his lips as he caught a glimpse of your cunt. “What do you want to do now, sweetheart?” he asked again.

You whimpered, mumbling nonsense but you knew, once Steve set his mind to something it was impossible to convince him otherwise. He was really gonna make you say it out loud. “I want your mouth on me,” you turned your head to the side, shutting your eyes, completely flustered.

He dove in for his prize, giving your bundle of nerves a soft kiss before smearing your juices around your cunt with his fingers, prodding one at your entrance he plunged it in, your walls hugging it so wonderfully, “You’re so tight, all for me...” he blew a breath of air on it, kissing the soft patch of hair on top of your mould.

You were much too delirious to think of anything but his fingers teasing you, his lips pressing butterfly kisses to your thighs, his hands massaging your titts, but you vaguely heard him call out your name.

“What?” you rasped, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Come, sit on my face. You said you wanted to be in control,” he shrugged.

“Wh - what... do you even know how that works?” you heaved. You had never done something like that before, while it sounds enticing, it would be impractical... maybe...

“I thought they had like two sex positions in the forties. The missionary, and uh...”

He shushed you, “I’ve never been a prude, you should know that by now,” lying on his back, he felt his dick hardening again and aching for any kind of attention from you, but he’d have to take care of you first.

“Come here...” He held onto your hips, pulling you up till you were over his mouth, “Take what you need, doll.”

You hummed, running your drenched pussy over his face, a shiver went up your spine at the feel of his coarse bread on your sensitive skin, “I can’t,” you mewled.

“Yes, you can, doll. Come on, be good for your daddy,” he spurred you on.

Taking a deep breath, you held onto the headboard, arching your back as he wrapped his mouth around your bundle of nerves, you started grinding your hips over him, soon getting accustomed and even liking the burn his glorious beard gave you.

“I’m gonna... come, daddy,” your voice breathy, your hand massaging your breast as you gushed around his beard.

You held onto the board, trying to catch your breath, your other hand in his long locks as he kept lapping you up.

You shuddered as you crawled down his body, hovering over his hard cock which was pressing against his taut stomach. You spread your lips with your fingers, peaking up to see him looking at you with dark, lust ridden eyes, coating him in your juices by running your clit up and down his length.

It was too much for your sensitive clit to be rubbing against the velvety skin of his cock but not nearly enough for him.

He digs his nails into your hips, growling, “Get on with it,” he held onto the base of his length, nudging your lips aside before plunging into your heat.

“Oh,” you gulped, trying to sink your hips down on him but even after all that preparation he was too big for you.

“You’re so small, doll,” he smiled, noticing your evident struggle as he caressed your cheek, his eyes fixed on you trying to take him in, “is it too hard?”

You nodded, “I can still do it though,” still so eager to please him...

“You don’t have to. You’ve done so much already, you must be tired.”

You opened your mouth, to argue that he was the one who had taken a long journey to get here, but he circled a hand around your waist, bringing you down, flush against his chest.

“You just lay there and let me do the work, okay, sweetheart?” you whimpered but nodded with your cheek pressed to his heart as he thrusted deep into you.

“Okay, daddy, I’ll try,” you murmured, tears streaming down your cheek when he brushed against your sweet spot.

He stopped his hips when he heard you son, “You all right, doll?” he asked, looking down at you.

“Yes, it’s just so good, please don’t stop,” you requested.

And he had promised to never say no to you so he kept fucking up into your tight hole, whispering sweet words to you, telling you just how good you were at taking him, how well you were doing.

“My one and only,” he kissed your head as you cried into his chest, clenching around his cock. Triggering his own climax as he came inside you, staying inside you even after he was done.

Content with knowing that you’ll be his forever.

As long as he doesn’t fuck up again...

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to join the taglist.

I guess that was cheating because the face sitting was just a small part of it😅😅 But I hope you still liked it! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated💖💖 I'll try to write one more part with jealous endgame!Steve.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #kinktober #marvel kinktober

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